Pet.
Come on a god's name, once more tow'rds our father's.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon.

Kath.
The moon! the sun; it is not moon-light now.

Pet.
I say it is the moon that shines so bright.

Kath.
I know it is the sun that shines so bright.

Pet.
Now by my mother's son, and that's my self,
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 crost and crost, nothing but crost!

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:
And if you please to call it a rush candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.

Pet.
I say it is the moon.

Kath.
I know it is the moon.

Pet.
Nay then you lye; it is the blessed sun.

Kath.
Then God be blest, it is the blessed sun.
But sun it is not, when you say it is not,
And the moon changes even as your mind.
What you will have it nam'd, even that it is,
And so it shall be so for Katherine.

Hor.
Petruchio, go thy way, the field is won.

Pet.
Well, forward, forward, thus the bowl should run;

And not unluckily against the bias:
But soft, some company is coming here.

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