No man, "I wis," is "half-way to her heart
But if he were, doubt not her care should be
To comb his noddle with a three-legg'd stool,
And paint his face, and use him like a fool."
Here's Katharine—but where's Petruchio?
"What! shall I be appointed hours, as though, belike
I knew not what to take, and what to leave, ha!"
There speaks the sweet-faced shrew, and takes to-day
What she will leave to-morrow. Yet she shines
In the description of Hortensio.