Gre.

You may go to the devil's dam: your gifts are so good, here is none will hold you. Our love is not so great, Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly out. Our cake's dow on both sides. Farewel; yet for the love I bear my sweet Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit man to teach her that wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father.

Hor.

So will I, Signior Gremio: but a word, I pray; tho' the nature of our quarrel never yet brook'd parle, know now upon advice, it toucheth us both, that we may yet again have access to our fair mistress, and be happy rivals in Bianca's love, to labour and effect one thing 'specially.

Gre.

What's that, I pray?

Hor.

Marry Sir, to get a husband for her sister.

Gre.

A husband! a devil.

Hor.

I say a husband.

Gre.

I say a devil. Think'st thou, Hortensio, tho' her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell?

Hor.

Tush, Gremio; tho' it pass your patience and mine to endure her ^{a note}loud alarms, why, man, there be good fellows in the world, an a man could light on them, would take her with all her faults, and mony enough.

Gre.

I cannot tell; but I had as lief take her dowry with this condition, to be whip'd at the high-cross every morning.

Hor.

'Faith, as you say, there's small choice in rotten apples: come, since this bar in law makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly maintain'd, 'till by helping Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband, we set his youngest free for a husband, and then have to't afresh. Sweet Bianca! happy man be his dole; he that runs fastest gets the ring; how say you, Signior Gremio?

Gre.

I am agreed, and would I had given him the best horse in Padua to begin the wooing that would throughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid the house of her. Come on.