And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale Blows you to Padua
And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale
Blows you to Padua here from old Verona?
Such wind as scatters young men through the world
To seek their fortunes farther than at home,
Where small experience grows. But in a few,
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me:
Antonio, my father, is deceased,
And I have thrust myself into this maze,
Happily to wive and thrive, as best I may.
Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to see the world