he was a witty and most happy-tempered humourist, and withal so wise, and of such a true judgment, that he well knew how to feign a passionate and furious deportment, when his spirits were so calm that he himself could have laughed merrily at his own angry feigning, for his natural temper was careless and easy; the boisterous airs he assumed when he became the husband of Katherine being but in sport, or, more properly speaking, affected by his excellent discernment, as the only means to overcome in her own way the passionate ways of the furious Katherine.

A courting then Petruchio went to Katherine the shrew, and first of all he applied to Baptista, her father, for leave to woo his gentle daughter Katherine, as Petruchio called her, saying archly, that having heard of her bashful modesty and mild behaviour, he had come from Verona to solicit her love.  Her father, though he wished her married, was forced to confess Katherine would ill answer this character, it being soon apparent of what manner of gentleness she was composed, for her music-master rushed into the room to complain that the gentle Katherine, his pupil, had broken his head with her lute, for presuming to find fault with her performance; which, when Petruchio heard, he said, “It is a brave wench; I love her more than ever, and long to have some chat with her;” and hurrying the old gentleman for a positive answer, he said, “My business is in haste, signior Baptista, I cannot come every day to woo.  You knew my father.  He is dead, and has left me heir to all his lands and goods.  Then tell me, if I get your daughter’s love, what dowry you will give with her.”  Baptista thought his manner was somewhat blunt for a lover; but being glad to get Katherine married, he answered that he would give her twenty thousand crowns for her dowry, and half his estate at his death:  so this odd match was quickly agreed on, and Baptista went to apprise his shrewish daughter of her lover’s addresses, and sent her in to Petruchio to listen to his suit.

In the mean time Petruchio was settling with himself the mode of courtship he should pursue:  and he said, “I will woo her with some spirit when she comes.  If she rails at me, why then I will tell her she sings as sweetly as a nightingale; and if she frowns, I will say she looks 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.”