Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were true Pet. Now for my life Hortentio feares his Widow Wid. Then neuer trust me if I be affeard Petr. You are verie sencible, and yet you misse my sence: I meane Hortentio is afeard of you Wid. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round Petr. Roundlie replied Kat. Mistris, how meane you that? Wid. Thus I conceiue by him Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that? Hor. My Widdow saies, thus she conceiues her tale Petr. Verie well mended: kisse him for that good Widdow Kat. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round, I praie you tell me what you meant by that Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew, Measures my husbands sorrow by his woe: And now you know my meaning Kate. A verie meane meaning Wid. Right, I meane you Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecting you Petr. To her Kate Hor. To her Widdow Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down Hor. That's my office Petr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad. Drinkes to Hortentio. Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes? Gre. Beleeue me sir, they But together well Bian. Head, and but an hastie witted bodie, Would say your Head and But were head and horne Vin. I Mistris Bride, hath that awakened you? Bian. I, but not frighted me, therefore Ile sleepe againe Petr. Nay that you shall not since you haue begun: Haue at you for a better iest or too Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to shift my bush, And then pursue me as you draw your Bow. You are welcome all. Exit Bianca. Petr. She hath preuented me, here signior Tranio, This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not, Therefore a health to all that shot and mist Tri. Oh sir, Lucentio slipt me like his Gray-hound, Which runs himselfe, and catches for his Master Petr. A good swift simile, but something currish Tra. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for your selfe: 'Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baie Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio Hor. Confesse, confesse, hath he not hit you here? Petr. A has a little gald me I confesse: And as the Iest did glaunce awaie from me, 'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right Bap. Now in good sadnesse sonne Petruchio, I thinke thou hast the veriest shrew of all Petr. Well, I say no: and therefore sir assurance, Let's each one send vnto 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 Hort. Content, what's the wager? Luc. Twentie crownes Petr. Twentie crownes, Ile venture so much of my Hawke or Hound, But twentie times so much vpon my Wife Luc. A hundred then Hor. Content Petr. A match, 'tis done Hor. Who shall begin? Luc. That will I. Goe Biondello, bid your Mistris come to me Bio. I goe. Enter.