No More Learning

God give him joy!
TRANIO. Ay, and he'll tame her.
BIANCA. He says so, Tranio.
TRANIO. Faith, he is gone unto the taming-school.
BIANCA. The taming-school! What, is there such a place?
TRANIO. Ay, mistress; and Petruchio is the master,
That teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long,
To tame a shrew and charm her chattering tongue.

Enter BIONDELLO

BIONDELLO. O master, master, have watch'd so long
That I am dog-weary; but at last I spied
An ancient angel coming down the hill
Will serve the turn.
TRANIO.
What is he, Biondello?
BIONDELLO. Master, a mercatante or a pedant,
I know not what; but formal in apparel,
In gait and countenance surely like a father.
LUCENTIO. And what of him, Tranio?
TRANIO. 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

PEDANT. God save you, sir!
TRANIO. And you, sir; you are welcome.
Travel you far on, or are you at the farthest?
PEDANT. 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.
TRANIO.