BAPTISTA.
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;
If you should die before him, where’s her dower?
TRANIO.
That’s but a cavil; he is old, I young.
GREMIO.
And may not young men die as well as old?
BAPTISTA.
Well, gentlemen,
I am thus resolv’d. On Sunday next, you know,
My daughter Katherine is to be married;
Now, on the Sunday following, shall Bianca
Be bride to you, if you make this assurance;
If not, to Signior Gremio.
And so I take my leave, and thank you both.
GREMIO.
Adieu, good neighbour.
[Exit Baptista.]
Now, I fear thee not:
Sirrah young gamester, your father were a fool
To give thee all, and in his waning age
Set foot under thy table. Tut! a toy!
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy.
[Exit.]
TRANIO.
A vengeance on your crafty wither’d hide!
Yet I have fac’d it with a card of ten.
’Tis in my head to do my master good:
I see no reason but suppos’d Lucentio
Must get a father, call’d suppos’d Vincentio;
And that’s a wonder: fathers commonly
Do get their children; but in this case of wooing
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my cunning.
[Exit.]