_church;_] Rann (Tyrwhitt conj.). _church_ Ff Q. [93] [Going. Capell. [101] _I doubt_] _we doubt_ Rowe. _I doubt her_ Pope. SCENE V. _A public road._ _Enter_ PETRUCHIO, KATHARINA, HORTENSIO, _and_ Servants. _Pet._ Come on, i' God's name; once more toward our father's. Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon! _Kath._ The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now. _Pet._ I say it is the moon that shines so bright. _Kath._ I know it is the sun that shines so bright. 5 _Pet._ Now, by my mother's son, and that's myself, It shall be moon, or star, or what I list, Or ere I journey to your father's house. Go on, and fetch our horses back again. Evermore cross'd and cross'd; nothing but cross'd! 10 _Hor._ Say as he says, or we shall never go. _Kath._ Forward, I pray, since we have come so far, And be it moon, or sun, or what you please: An if you please to call it a rush-candle, Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me. 15 _Pet._ I say it is the moon. _Kath._ I know it is the moon. _Pet._ Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun. _Kath._ Then, God be bless'd, it is the blessed sun: But sun it is not, when you say it is not; And the moon changes even as your mind. 20 What you will have it named, even that it is; And so it shall be so for Katharine. _Hor._ Petruchio, go thy ways; the field is won. _Pet._ Well, forward, forward! thus the bowl should run, And not unluckily against the bias. 25 But, soft! company is coming here. _Enter_ VINCENTIO. [_To Vincentio_] Good morrow, gentle mistress: where away? Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, Hast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? Such war of white and red within her cheeks! 30 What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, As those two eyes become that heavenly face? Fair lovely maid, once more good day to thee. Sweet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. _Hor._ A' will make the man mad, to make a woman of him. 35 _Kath._ Young budding virgin, fair and fresh and sweet, Whither away, or where is thy abode? Happy the parents of so fair a child; Happier the man, whom favourable stars Allot thee for his lovely bed-fellow! 40 _Pet._ Why, how now, Kate! I hope thou art not mad: This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd; And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is. _Kath._ Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes, That have been so bedazzled with the sun, 45 That every thing I look on seemeth green: Now I perceive thou art a reverend father; Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking.