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Petruchio

I swear I'll cuff you if you strike again.

Katherina

So may you lose your arms.     
If you strike me, you are no gentleman,
And if no gentleman, why then no arms.    

Baptista

Say, Signor Gremio, what can you assure her?

Gremio

First, as you know, my house within the city
Is richly furnishèd with plate and gold,
Basins and ewers to lave her dainty hands, 
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,    
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,    
Six-score fat oxen standing in my stalls,    
And all things answerable to this portion.    
Myself am struck in years, I must confess;    
And if I die tomorrow, this is hers,
If, whilst I live, she will be only mine.

Baptista

Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.    

Tranio

'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you;
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

Baptista

The gain I seek is quiet in the match.    

Gremio

No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.

Gremio

Was ever match clapped up so suddenly?    

Baptista

Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant's part,
And venture madly on a desperate mart.    

Tranio

'Twas a commodity lay fretting by you;
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

Petruchio

Father, 'tis thus. Yourself and all the world
That talked of her have talked amiss of her.    
If she be curst, it is for policy,    
For she's not froward, but modest as the dove;    
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn;    
For patience she will prove a second Grissel,
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity;
And to conclude, we have 'greed so well together,
That upon Sunday is the wedding-day.

Katherina

I'll see thee hanged on Sunday first.

Katherina

If you strike me, you are no gentleman,
And if no gentleman, why then no arms.    

Petruchio

A herald, Kate? O, put me in thy books!

Katherina

What is your crest, a coxcomb?

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