HORTENSIO.
Confess, confess; hath he not hit you here?
PETRUCHIO.
A has a little gall’d me, I confess;
And as the jest did glance away from me,
’Tis ten to one it maim’d you two outright.
BAPTISTA.
Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all.
PETRUCHIO.
Well, I say no; and therefore, for assurance,
Let’s each one send unto 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.
HORTENSIO.
Content. What’s the wager?
LUCENTIO.
Twenty crowns.
PETRUCHIO.
Twenty crowns!
I’ll venture so much of my hawk or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my wife.
LUCENTIO.
A hundred then.
HORTENSIO.
Content.
PETRUCHIO.
A match! ’tis done.