Baptista had provided a sumptuous marriage-feast, but when they returned from church, Petruchio, taking hold of Katherine, declared his intention of carrying his wife home instantly; and no remonstrance of his father-in-law, or angry words of the enraged Katherine, could make him change his purpose; he claimed a husband’s right to dispose of his wife as he pleased, and away he hurried Katherine off:  he seeming so daring and resolute that no one dared attempt to stop him.

Petruchio mounted his wife upon a miserable horse, lean and lank, which he had picked out for the purpose, and himself and his servant no better mounted, they journeyed on through rough and miry ways, and ever when this horse of Katherine’s stumbled, he would storm and swear at the poor jaded beast, who could scarce crawl under his burthen, as if he had been the most passionate man alive.

At length, after a weary journey, during which Katherine had heard nothing but the wild ravings of Petruchio at the servant and the horses, they arrived at his house.  Petruchio welcomed her kindly to her home, but he resolved she should have neither rest nor food that night.  The tables were spread, and supper soon served; but Petruchio, pretending to find fault with every dish, threw the meat about the floor, and ordered the servants to remove it away, and all this he did, as he said, in love for his Katherine, that she might not eat meat that was not well dressed.  And when Katherine weary and supperless retired to rest, he found the same fault with the bed, throwing the pillows and bed-clothes about the room, so that she was forced to sit down in a chair, where if she chanced to drop asleep, she was presently awakened by the loud voice of her husband, storming at the servants for the ill-making of his wife’s bridal-bed.

The next day Petruchio pursued the same course, still speaking kind words to Katherine, but when she attempted to eat, finding fault with every thing that was set before her, throwing the breakfast on the floor as he had done the supper; and Katherine, the haughty Katherine, was fain to beg the servants would bring her secretly a morsel of food, but they being instructed by Petruchio replied, they dared not give her any thing unknown to their master.  “Ah,” said she, “did he marry me to famish me?  Beggars that come to my father’s door have food given them.  But I, who never knew what it was to intreat for any thing, am starved for want of food, giddy for want of sleep, with oaths kept waking, and with brawling fed, and that which vexes me more than all, he does it under the name of perfect love, pretending that if I sleep or eat it were present death to me.”  Here her soliloquy was interrupted by the entrance of Petruchio:  he, not meaning she should be quite starved, had brought her a small portion of meat, and he said to her, “How fares my sweet Kate?  Here, love, you see how diligent I am, I have dressed your meat myself.  I am sure this kindness merits