The plan that Petruchio had had the shrewdness to invent he had strength of will to carry out. It was absolutely useless for the fiery lady to try to overawe him by anger, scorn, ridicule, or insolence. Petruchio ignored all her insulting speeches with the most perfect good-humour, and his own self-possession and satirical remarks reduced her to a state of hopeless fury. The moment she appeared he started by contradicting her, insisted that she was called “Kate,” although she said she was called “Katharine,” and declared that, having heard her mildness praised in every town, her virtues spoken of, and her beauty extolled, he had come to woo her for his wife. It was useless for Katharine to get into a passion and shower abuse on him. The ruder she became, the more charming he pretended to think her. “I find you extremely gentle,” he said. “It was told me you were rough and coy and sullen, but now I find report is a liar; for you are pleasant, playful, extremely courteous; a little slow in speech, but sweet as spring flowers; you cannot frown, you cannot look askance, not bite your lip as angry wenches will; nor does it please you to be cross in talk, but you entertain your suitors with gentle conversation, soft and affable.” This method of treatment was entirely novel to Katharine, and she scarcely knew how to contain herself at such audacity; but the torrent of angry words she poured out had no effect whatever on this determined suitor. He treated her furious speeches as idle chat, and told her calmly that her father had given his consent, the dowry was agreed on, and that, willing or unwilling, he intended to marry her. The beauty of this fiery maiden took his fancy, and the thought of taming her wild nature to his own will filled him with more pleasure than he would have felt at winning a gentle and submissive creature for his wife. When Baptista a few minutes later entered to ask how the courtship was speeding, Petruchio announced that he and Katharine were so well agreed that they were going to be married on the following Sunday. “I’ll see thee hanged on Sunday first,” was Katharine’s wrathful rejoinder; but, all the same, when Sunday arrived the bride was ready, dressed, and waiting for her eccentric bridegroom. The Marriage, and After The bride was ready, the guests were assembled, but the bridegroom still tarried. Petruchio intended to teach Katharine a severe lesson. She had never shown the slightest consideration for anyone else; her proud, overbearing nature had always carried everything before it, and her violent temper had quelled any attempt at argument. But in Petruchio she had met her match. It was his aim to humble her pride thoroughly, and to show her how unpleasant it is for others to have to live with a person who is perpetually flying into a passion.