GRUMIO.
O! this woodcock, what an ass it is.

PETRUCHIO.
Peace, sirrah!

HORTENSIO.
Grumio, mum! God save you, Signior Gremio!

GREMIO.
And you are well met, Signior Hortensio.
Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola.
I promis'd to enquire carefully
About a schoolmaster for the fair Bianca;
And by good fortune I have lighted well
On this young man; for learning and behaviour
Fit for her turn, well read in poetry
And other books, good ones, I warrant ye.

HORTENSIO.
'Tis well; and I have met a gentleman
Hath promis'd me to help me to another,
A fine musician to instruct our mistress:
So shall I no whit be behind in duty
To fair Bianca, so belov'd of me.

GREMIO.
Belov'd of me, and that my deeds shall prove.