Take you your instrument, play you the whiles. His lecture will be done ere you have tuned.
Hic ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am 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.
“Gamut I am, the ground of all accord: 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.