“I assure you, sir, it is almost two o’clock; it will be supper-time before we get there.”
“It shall be seven o’clock before I get to horse,” declared Petruchio. “Look, whatever I speak or do, or think to do, you are always crossing me! I will not go to-day, and before I do, it shall be whatever time I say it is.”
Petruchio’s determined will at last gained the day, and Katharine learned that it was useless to attempt to battle with him. When in their journey to her father’s house he chose to say it was the moon shining in the sky, she had to agree that it was the moon, although everyone could see it was the sun; and then, when he declared immediately that it was the blessed sun, she had also to change her statement and say it was the sun.
“What you will have it named, even that it is,” she said, quite tired out by his strange freaks, “and so it shall be so for Katharine.”
“Petruchio, go your way, the field is won,” said his friend Hortensio, who was with them.
When matters had come to this point with the haughty Katharine, there was not much fear that she would resume her old imperious ways.
It may be remembered that, when Katharine’s father ordered his younger daughter Bianca to keep in seclusion till a husband had been found for Katharine, he had provided schoolmasters to divert her tedious hours. Two of her suitors had contrived to get into the house under the guise of masters of music and poetry, and one of them—Lucentio—she presently married, while the other—Hortensio—found consolation in a wealthy widow. To the wedding feast came Petruchio and Katharine, Hortensio and his wife, with many other guests, and during the meal a rather hot discussion sprang up as to the amiability of some of the ladies present. Petruchio remarked that his friend Hortensio was afraid of his wife, whereupon that lady retorted that he who is giddy thinks the world goes round, meaning by this that Petruchio was afraid of his own wife. Katharine was indignant at this, and even the gentle Bianca plunged rather sharply into the argument. After the ladies had retired from table the gentlemen still continued the discussion. Petruchio said the jest had glanced away from him, and had probably hurt Lucentio and Hortensio worse.
“Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio,” said Baptista, “I think you have the veriest shrew of all.”