orship bespoke;" on which Petruchio
began to storm afresh, saying the cap was moulded in a porringer, and
that it was no bigger than a cockle or walnut shell, desiring the
haberdasher to take it away and make it bigger. Katharine said, "I will
have this; all gentlewomen wear such caps as these."--"When you are
gentle," replied Petruchio, "you shall have one too, and not till then."
The meat Katharine had eaten had a little revived her fallen spirits,
and she said, "Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak, and speak I
will: I am no child, no babe; your betters have endured to hear me say
my mind; and if you cannot, you had better stop your ears." Petruchio
would not hear these angry words, for he had happily discovered a better
way of managing his wife than keeping up a jangling argument with her;
therefore his answer was, "Why, you say true; it is a paltry cap, and I
love you for not liking it."--"Love me, or love me not," said Katharine,
"I like the cap, and I will have this cap or none."--"You say you wish
to see the gown," said Petruchio, still affecting to misunderstand her.
The tailor then came forward and showed her a fine gown he had made for
her. Petruchio, whose intent was that she should have neither cap nor
gown, found as much fault with that. "O mercy, Heaven!" said he, "what
stuff is here! What, do you call this a sleeve? it is like a
demi-cannon, carved up and down like an apple tart." The tailor said,
"You bid me make it according to the fashion of the times;" and
Katharine said, she never saw a better fashioned gown. This was enough
for Petruchio, and privately desiring these people might be paid for
their goods, and excuses made to them for the seemingly strange
treatment he bestowed upon them, he with fierce words and furious
gestures drove the tailor and the haberdasher out of the room; and then,
turning to Katharine, he said, "Well, come, my Kate, we will go to your
father's even in these mean garments we now wear." And then he ordered
his horses, affirming they should reach Baptista's house by dinner-time,
for that it was but seven o'clock. Now it was not early morning, but the
very middle of the day, when he spoke this; therefore Katharine ventured
to say, though modestly, being almost overcome by the vehemence of his
manner, "I dare assure you, sir, it is two o'clock, and will be
supper-time before we get there." But Petruchio meant that she should be
so completely subdued, that she should assen