LUCENTIO.
Then we are rid of Licio.
TRANIO.
I’ faith, he’ll have a lusty widow now,
That shall be woo’d and wedded in a day.
BIANCA.
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, running.
BIONDELLO.
O master, master! I 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.