Poetry Moment

BAPTISTA. ... Bianca, get you in;And let it not displease thee, good Bianca,For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl.KATHERINA. A pretty peat! it is bestPut finger in the eye, an she knew why.BIANCA. Sister, content you in my discontent.Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe;My books and instruments shall be my company,On them to look, and practise by myself.LUCENTIO. Hark, Tranio, thou mayst hear Minerva speak!HORTENSIO. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange?Sorry am I that our good will effectsBianca's grief.GREMIO. Why will you mew her up,Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell,And make her bear the penance of her tongue?BAPTISTA. Gentlemen, content ye; I am resolv'd.Go in, Bianca. Exit BIANCAAnd for I know she taketh most delightIn music, instruments, and poetry,Schoolmasters will I keep within my houseFit to instruct her youth. If you, Hortensio,Or, Signior Gremio, you, know any such,Prefer them hither; for to cunning menI will be very kind, and liberalTo mine own children in good bringing-up;A