To strive for that which resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholar in the schools;
I’ll not be tied to hours nor ‘pointed times,
But learn my lessons as I please myself.
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down:
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles;
His lecture will be done ere you have tuned.
Lucentio, “hic est,” son unto Vincentio of Pisa,
“Sigeia tellus,” disguised thus to get your love;
“Hic steterat,” and that Lucentio that comes
a-wooing, “Priami,” is my man Tranio, “regia,”
bearing my port, “celsa senis,” that we might
beguile the old pantaloon.
‘A re,’ to Plead Hortensio’s passion;
‘B mi,’ Bianca, take him for thy lord,
‘C fa ut,’ that loves with all affection:
‘D sol re,’ one clef, two notes have I:
‘E la mi,’ show pity, or I die.”
Call you this gamut? tut, I like it not:
Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice,
To change true rules for old inventions.