_Gru._ Knock at the gate! O heavens! Spake you not these words plain, 'Sirrah, knock me here, rap me here, knock me well, and knock me soundly'? And come you 40 now with, 'knocking at the gate'? _Pet._ Sirrah, be gone, or talk not, I advise you. _Hor._ Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's pledge: Why, this's a heavy chance 'twixt him and you, Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant Grumio. 45 And tell me now, sweet friend, what happy gale Blows you to Padua here from old Verona? _Pet._ 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, 50 Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me: Antonio, my father, is deceased; And I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may: Crowns in my purse I have and goods at home 55 And so am come abroad to see the world. _Hor._ Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife? Thou'ldst thank me but a little for my counsel: And yet I'll promise thee she shall be rich 60 And very rich: but thou'rt too much my friend, And I'll not wish thee to her. _Pet._ Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as we Few words suffice; and therefore, if thou know One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife, 65 As wealth is burden of my wooing dance, Be she as foul as was Florentius' love, As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd As Socrates' Xanthippe, or a worse, She moves me not, or not removes, at least, 70 Affection's edge in me, were she as rough As are the swelling Adriatic seas: I come to wive it wealthily in Padua; If wealthily, then happily in Padua. _Gru._ Nay, look you, sir, he tells you flatly what his mind 75 is: why, give him gold enough and marry him to a puppet or an aglet-baby; or an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, though she have as many diseases as two and fifty horses: why, nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal. _Hor._ Petruchio, since we are stepp'd thus far in, 80 I will continue that I broach'd in jest. I can, Petruchio, help thee to a wife With wealth enough and young and beauteous, Brought up as best becomes a gentlewoman: Her only fault, and that is faults enough, 85 Is that she is intolerable curst And shrewd and froward, so beyond all measure, That, were my state far worser than it is, I would not wed her for a mine of gold. _Pet._ Hortensio, peace! thou know'st not gold's effect: 90 Tell me her father's name and 'tis enough; For I will board her, though she chide as loud As thunder when the clouds in autumn crack.