Bp.
Now in good sadness, son Petruchio,
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.

Pet.
Well, I say no; and therefore for assurance,
Let's each one send unto his wife, and he
Whose wife is most obedient to come first,
When he doth send for her, shall win the wager.

Hor.
Content, what wager?

Luc.
Twenty crowns.

Pet.
Twenty crowns!
I'll venture so much on my hawk or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my wife.

Luc.
A hundred then.

Hor.
Content.

Pet.
A match, 'tis done.

Hor.
Who shall begin?

Luc.
That will I.
Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me.

Bion.
I go. [Exit.

Bap.
Son, I'll be your half, Bianca comes.

Luc.
I'll have no halves: I'll bear it all my self.

Re-enter Biondello.
How now, what news?

Bion.
Sir, my mistress sends you word
That she is busie, and cannot come.

Pet.
How? she's busie, and cannot come: is that an answer?

Gre.
Ay, and a kind one too:
Pray God, Sir, your wife send you not a worse.

Pet.

I hope better.

Hor.

Sirrah Biondello, go and intreat my wife to come to me forthwith.

Pet.

Oh ho! intreat her! nay then she needs must come.

Hor.
I am afraid, Sir, do what you can, Enter Biondello.
Yours will not be intreated: now, where's my wife?

Bion.
She says you have some goodly jest in hand,
She will not come: she bids you come to her.

Pet.
Worse and worse, she will not come!
Oh vile, intolerable, not to be indur'd:
Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress,
Say I command her to come to me. [Exit Gru.

Hor.
I know her answer.

Pet.
What?

Hor.
She will not.

Pet.
The fouler fortune mine, and there's an end.

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