So will I, Signior Gremio. But a word

Hortensio
So will I, Signior Gremio. But a word, I
pray. Though the nature of our quarrel yet never
brooked parle, know now upon advice, it toucheth
us both (that we may yet again have access to our
fair mistress and be happy rivals in Bianca’s love) to
labor and effect one thing specially.
Gremio
What’s that, I pray?
Hortensio
Marry, sir, to get a husband for her sister.
Gremio
A husband? A devil!
Hortensio
I say “a husband.”

Faith, as you say, there’s small choice in
rotten apples.

Gremio
I say “a devil.” Think’st thou, Hortensio,
though her father be very rich, any man is so very a
fool to be married to hell?
Hortensio
Tush, Gremio. Though it pass your patience
and mine to endure her loud alarums, why,
man, there be good fellows in the world, an a man
could light on them, would take her with all faults,
and money enough.
Gremio
I cannot tell. But I had as lief take her dowry
with this condition: to be whipped at the high cross
every morning.
Hortensio
Faith, as you say, there’s small choice in
rotten apples. But come, since this bar in law
makes us friends, it shall be so far forth friendly
maintained till by helping Baptista’s eldest daughter
to a husband we set his youngest free for a
husband, and then have to ’t afresh. Sweet Bianca!
Happy man be his dole! He that runs fastest gets the
ring. How say you, Signior Gremio?
Gremio
I am agreed, and would I had given him the
best horse in Padua to begin his wooing that would
thoroughly woo her, wed her, and bed her, and rid
the house of her. Come on.