HORTENSIO.
That she's the chosen of Signior Hortensio.
TRANIO.
Softly, my masters! If you be gentlemen,
Do me this right; hear me with patience.
Baptista is a noble gentleman,
To whom my father is not all unknown;
And were his daughter fairer than she is,
She may more suitors have, and me for one.
Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers;
Then well one more may fair Bianca have;
And so she shall: Lucentio shall make one,
Though Paris came in hope to speed alone.
GREMIO.
What!this gentleman will out-talk us all.
LUCENTIO.
Sir, give him head; I know he'll prove a jade.
PETRUCHIO.
Hortensio, to what end are all these words?
HORTENSIO.
Sir, let me be so bold as ask you,
Did you yet ever see Baptista's daughter?
TRANIO.
No, sir, but hear I do that he hath two,
The one as famous for a scolding tongue
As is the other for beauteous modesty.
PETRUCHIO.
Sir, sir, the first's for me; let her go by.
GREMIO.
Yea, leave that labour to great Hercules,
And let it be more than Alcides' twelve.
