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.
What countryman, I pray?