of the room:  and then, turning to Katherine, he said, “Well, come, my Kate, we will go to your father’s even in these mean garments we now wear.”  And then he ordered his horses, affirming they should reach Baptista’s house by dinner-time, for that it was but seven o’clock.  Now it was not early morning, but the very middle of the day, when he spoke this; therefore Katherine ventured to say, though modestly, being almost overcome by the vehemence of his manner, “I dare assure you, sir, it is two o’clock, and will be supper-time before we get there.”  But Petruchio meant that she should be so completely subdued, that she should assent to every thing he said, before he carried her to her father; and therefore, as if he were lord even of the sun, and could command the hours, he said it should be what time he pleased to have it, before he set forward; “For,” said he, “whatever I say or do, you still are crossing it.  I will not go to-day, and when I go, it shall be what o’clock I say it is.”  Another day Katherine was forced to practise her newly-found obedience, and not till he had brought her proud spirit to such a perfect subjection, that she dared not remember there was such a word as contradiction, would Petruchio allow her to go to her father’s house; and even while they were upon their journey thither, she was in danger of being turned back again, only because she happened to hint it was the sun, when he affirmed the moon shone brightly at noonday.  “Now, by my mother’s son,” said he, “and that is myself, it shall be the moon, or stars, or what I list, before I journey to your father’s house.”  He then made as if he were going back again; but Katherine, no longer Katherine the Shrew, but the obedient wife, said, “Let us go forward, I pray, now we have come so far, and it shall be the sun, or moon, or what you please, and if you please to call it a rush candle henceforth, I vow it shall be so for me.”  This he was resolved to prove, therefore he said again, “I say, it is the moon.”  “I know it is the moon,” replied Katherine.  “You lie, it is the blessed sun,” said Petruchio.  “Then it is the blessed sun,” replied Katherine; “but sun it is not, when you say it is not.  What you will have it named even so it is, and so it ever shall be for Katherine.”  Now then he suffered her to proceed on her journey; but further to try if this yielding humour would last, he addressed an old gentleman they met on the road as if he had been a young woman, saying to him, “Good morrow, gentle mistress;” and asked Katherine if she had ever beheld a fairer gentlewoman, praising the red and white of the old man’s cheeks, and comparing his eyes to two bright stars; and again he addressed him, saying, “Fair lovely maid, once more good day to you!” and said to his wife, “Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty’s sake.”  The now completely vanquished Katherine quickly adopted her husband’s opinion, and made her speech in like sort to the old gentleman, saying to him, “Young