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Put finger in the eye, and she knew why.

Bian.

Sister, content you in my discontent.

Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe;

My books and instruments shall be my company,

On them to look and practice by myself.

Luc.

Hark, Tranio, thou mayst hear Minerva speak.

Hor.

Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?

Sorry am I that our good will effects

Bianca’s grief.

Gre.

Why will you mew her up,

Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,

And make her bear the penance of her tongue?

Bap.

Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv’d.

Go in, Bianca.

[Exit Bianca.]

And for I know she taketh most delight

In music, instruments, and poetry,

Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,

Fit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,

Or, Signior Gremio, you, know any such,

Prefer them hither; for to cunning men

I will be very kind, and liberal

To mine own children in good bringing-up,

And so farewell. Katherina, you may stay,

For I have more to commune with Bianca.

Exit.

Kath. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not? What, shall I be appointed hours, as though (belike) I knew not what to take and what to leave? Ha!