O, O, Petruchio! Tranio hits you now. LUCENTIO. I thank thee for that gird, good Tranio. HORTENSIO. Confess, confess; hath he not hit you here? PETRUCHIO. 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess; And, as the jest did glance away from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. BAPTISTA. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. PETRUCHIO. 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 at first when he doth send for her, Shall win the wager which we will propose. HORTENSIO. Content. What's the wager? LUCENTIO. Twenty crowns. PETRUCHIO. Twenty crowns? I'll venture so much of my hawk or hound, But twenty times so much upon my wife. LUCENTIO. A hundred then. HORTENSIO. Content. PETRUCHIO. A match! 'tis done. HORTENSIO. Who shall begin? LUCENTIO. That will I. Go, Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. BIONDELLO. I go. Exit BAPTISTA. Son, I'll be your half Bianca comes. LUCENTIO. I'll have no halves; I'll bear it all myself. Re-enter BIONDELLO How now! what news? BIONDELLO. Sir, my mistress sends you word That she is busy and she cannot come. PETRUCHIO. How! She's busy, and she cannot come! Is that an answer? GREMIO. Ay, and a kind one too. Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. PETRUCHIO. I hope better. HORTENSIO. Sirrah Biondello, go and entreat my wife To come to me forthwith. Exit BIONDELLO PETRUCHIO. O, ho! entreat her! Nay, then she must needs come. HORTENSIO. I am afraid, sir, Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. Re-enter BIONDELLO Now, where's my wife? BIONDELLO. She says you have some goodly jest in hand: She will not come; she bids you come to her. PETRUCHIO. Worse and worse; she will not come! O vile, Intolerable, not to be endur'd! Sirrah Grumio, go to your mistress; Say I command her come to me. Exit GRUMIO HORTENSIO. I know her answer. PETRUCHIO. What? HORTENSIO. She will not. PETRUCHIO. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end. Re-enter KATHERINA