_Bap._ Content you, gentlemen: I will compound this strife: 'Tis deeds must win the prize; and he, of both, That can assure my daughter greatest dower 335 Shall have my Bianca's love. Say, Signior Gremio, what can you assure her? _Gre._ First, as you know, my house within the city Is richly furnished with plate and gold; Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands; 340 My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry; In ivory coffers I have stuff'd my crowns; In cypress chests my arras counterpoints, Costly apparel, tents, and canopies, Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl, 345 Valance of Venice gold in needlework, Pewter and brass and all things that belong To house or housekeeping: then, at my farm I have a hundred milch-kine to the pail, Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls, 350 And all things answerable to this portion. Myself am struck in years, I must confess; And if I die to-morrow, this is hers, If whilst I live she will be only mine. _Tra._ That 'only' came well in. Sir, list to me: 355 I am my father's heir and only son: If I may have your daughter to my wife, I'll leave her houses three or four as good, Within rich Pisa walls, as any one Old Signior Gremio has in Padua; 360 Besides two thousand ducats by the year Of fruitful land, all which shall be her jointure. What, have I pinch'd you, Signior Gremio? _Gre._ Two thousand ducats by the year of land! My land amounts not to so much in all: 365 That she shall have; besides an argosy That now is lying in Marseilles' road. What, have I choked you with an argosy? _Tra._ Gremio, 'tis known my father hath no less Than three great argosies; besides two galliasses, 370 And twelve tight galleys: these I will assure her, And twice as much, whate'er thou offer'st next. _Gre._ Nay, I have offer'd all, I have no more; And she can have no more than all I have: If you like me, she shall have me and mine. 375 _Tra._ Why, then the maid is mine from all the world, By your firm promise: Gremio is out-vied. _Bap._ I must confess your offer is the best; And, let your father make her the assurance, She is your own; else, you must pardon me, 380 If you should die before him, where's her dower? _Tra._ That's but a cavil: he is old, I young. _Gre._ And may not young men die, as well as old?