as clear as roses newly washed with dew. If she will not
speak a word, I will praise the eloquence of her language; and if she
bids me leave her, I will give her thanks as if she bid me stay with
her a week." Now the stately Katherine entered, and Petruchio first
addressed her with "Good morrow, Kate, for that is your name, I hear."
Katherine, not liking this plain salutation, said disdainfully, "They
call me Katherine who do speak to me." "You lie," replied the lover;
"for you are called plain Kate, and bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate
the Shrew; but, Kate, you are the prettiest Kate in Christendom, and
therefore, Kate, hearing your mildness praised in every town, I am
come to woo you for my wife."

A strange courtship they made of it. She in loud and angry terms
shewing him how justly she had gained the name of Shrew, while he
still praised her sweet and courteous words, till at length, hearing
her father coming, he said, (intending to make as quick a wooing as
possible) "Sweet Katherine, let us set this idle chat aside, for your
father has consented that you shall be my wife, your dowry is agreed
on, and whether you will or no, I will marry you."

And now Baptista entering, Petruchio told him his daughter had
received him kindly, and that she had promised to be married the next
Sunday. This Katherine denied, saying she would rather see him hanged
on Sunday, and reproached her father for wishing to wed her to such
a mad-cap ruffian as Petruchio. Petruchio desired her father not to
regard her angry words, for they had agreed she should seem reluctant
before him, but that when they were alone he had found her very fond
and loving; and he said, "Give me your hand, Kate; I will go to Venice
to buy you fine apparel against our wedding-day. Provide the feast,
father, and bid the wedding guests. I will be sure to bring rings,
fine array, and rich clothes, that my Katherine may be fine; and kiss
me, Kate, for we will be married on Sunday."

On the Sunday all the wedding guests were assembled, but they waited
long before Petruchio came, and Katherine wept for vexation to think
that Petruchio had only been making a jest of her. At last however he
appeared, but he brought none of the bridal finery he had promised
Katherine, nor was he dressed himself like a bridegroom, but in
strange disordered attire, as if he meant to make a sport of the
serious business he came about; and his servant and the very horses
on which they rode w