Mort.... for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute.
For 'ravishing division,' see the remarks on the third of the foregoing passages, the speech of Juliet about the lark's song [p. [28]].
The Lute leads us quite easily from Musical Instruments and Technical Terms to the second division.
II
Musical Education
The following passages give a lively picture of what a music-master might have to put up with from young ladies of quality.
Shrew. II, i, 142. Re-enter Hortensio with his head broken.
Bap. How now, my friend? why dost thou look so pale?
Hor. For fear, I promise you, if I look pale.
Bap. What, will my daughter [Kate] prove a good musician?
Hor. I think, she'll sooner prove a soldier:
Iron may hold her, but never lutes.
Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her to the lute?
Hor. Why, no, for she hath broke the lute to me.
I did but tell her she mistook her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When, with a most impatient, devilish spirit,
"Frets call you these?" quoth she; "I'll fume with them;"
And with that word she struck me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way;
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a pillory, looking through the lute,
While she did call me rascal fiddler,
And, twangling Jack, with twenty such vile terms,
As had she studied to misuse me so.