Act 2 — SCENE II.
Reading edition
The Country. A Hall in Charomonte's House.
Enter Bernardo, Caponi, and Petruchio.
Bern. Is my lord stirring?
Cap. No; he's fast.
Pet. Let us take, then, Our morning draught. Such as eat store of beef, Mutton, and capons, may preserve their healths With that thin composition call'd small beer, As, 'tis said, they do in England. But Italians, That think when they have supp'd upon an olive, A root, or bunch of raisins, 'tis a feast, Must kill those crudities rising from cold herbs, With hot and lusty wines.
Cap. A happiness Those tramontanes[70] ne'er tasted.
Bern. Have they not Store of wine there?
Cap. Yes, and drink more in two hours Than the Dutchmen or the Dane in four and twenty.
Pet. But what is 't? French trash, made of rotten grapes, And dregs and lees of Spain, with Welsh metheglin, A drench to kill a horse! But this pure nectar, Being proper to our climate, is too fine To brook the roughness of the sea: the spirit Of this begets in us quick apprehensions, And active executions; whereas their Gross feeding makes their understanding like it: They can fight, and that's their all. [They drink.
Enter Sanazarro and Servani.
Sanaz. Security Dwells about this house, I think; the gate's wide open, And not a servant stirring. See the horses Set up, and clothed.
Serv. I shall, sir. [Exit.
Sanaz. I'll make bold To press a little further.
Bern. Who is this, Count Sanazarro?
Pet. Yes, I know him. Quickly Remove the flagon.
Sanaz. A good day to you, friends. Nay, do not conceal your physic; I approve it, And, if you please, will be a patient with you.
Pet. My noble lord. [Drinks.
Sanaz. A health to yours. [Drinks.] Well done! I see you love yourselves, and I commend you; 'Tis the best wisdom.
Pet. May it please your honour To walk a turn in the gallery, I'll acquaint My lord with your being here. [Exit.
Sanaz. Tell him I come For a visit only. 'Tis a handsome pile this. [Exit.
Cap. Why here is a brave fellow, and a right one; Nor wealth nor greatness makes him proud.
Bern. There are Too few of them; for most of our new courtiers, (Whose fathers were familiar with the prices Of oil and corn, with when and where to vent them, And left their heirs rich, from their knowledge that way,) Like gourds shot up in a night, disdain to speak But to cloth of tissue.
Enter Charomonte in a nightgown, Petruchio following.
Char. Stand you prating, knaves, When such a guest is under my roof! See all The rooms perfumed. This is the man that carries The sway and swing of the court; and I had rather Preserve him mine with honest offices, than—— But I'll make no comparisons. Bid my daughter Trim herself up to the height. Which way went he?
Cap. To the round gallery.
Char. I will entertain him As fits his worth and quality, but no further. [Exeunt.