Ant. Thou art my nephew,
And thou hast wit; 'tis fit thou should'st have land too.
Tell me no more, how thou hast cheated me,
I do perceive it, and forgive thee for 't;
Thou shalt have all I have, and I'll be wiser.
Lio. I thank you, sir. Brother Petrucio,
This to your comfort; that is my sister,
Whom formerly you did abuse in love,
And you may be glad your lot is no worse.
Pet. I am contented; I'll give a good wit
Leave to abuse me at any time.
Lor. When he cannot help it.
Gas. This 'tis
To be so politic and ambitious, son.
Pet. Nay, father, do not you aggravate it too.
Lor. Well, signor,
You must pardon me, if I bid joy to you;
My daughter was not good enough for you.
Pet. You are tyrannous.
Enter Leonardo.
Leo. Save you, gallants.