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Tra.

What is he, Biondello?

Bion.

Master, a mercantant, or a pedant,

I know not what, but formal in apparel,

In gait and countenance surely like a father.

Luc.

And what of him, Tranio?

Tra.

If he be credulous, and trust my tale,

I’ll make him glad to seem Vincentio,

And give assurance to Baptista Minola,

As if he were the right Vincentio.

Take [in] your love, and then let me alone.

[Exeunt Lucentio and Bianca.]

Enter a Pedant.

Ped.

God save you, sir!

Tra.

And you, sir! you are welcome.

Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?

Ped.

Sir, at the farthest for a week or two,

But then up farther, and as far as Rome,

And so to Tripoli, if God lend me life.

Tra.

What countryman, I pray?

Ped.

Of Mantua.

Tra.

Of Mantua, sir? marry, God forbid!

And come to Padua, careless of your life?

Ped.

My life, sir? How, I pray? for that goes hard.

Tra.

’Tis death for any one in Mantua

To come to Padua. Know you not the cause?

Your ships are stay’d at Venice, and the Duke,

For private quarrel ’twixt your Duke and him,