See how the Gallic Katharine in her fume,
Flouting all mastery, flouncing uncontrolled
In furious anger, flings the shattered lute,
Unstrung, aside, as did the Paduan shrew,
Spurning all government—till Petruchio came!
"Come, come you wasp; i' faith you are too angry!"
So, in Petruchio's words, say France's friends.
Whilst foes and half-allies look doubtful on,
From the chill Eastward or more genial North,
Wondering what stable faith, in love or hate,