Come on, i’ God’s name, once more toward our father’s
Come on, i’ God’s name, once more toward our father’s.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!
The moon? The sun! It is not moonlight now.
I say it is the moon that shines so bright.
I know it is the sun that shines so bright.
Now, by my mother’s son, and that’s myself,
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or e’er I journey to your father’s house.
Go on, and fetch our horses back again.—
Evermore crossed and crossed, nothing but crossed!
Hortensio, to Katherine
Say as he says, or we shall never go.
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.
I say it is the moon.
I know it is the moon.
Nay, then you lie. It is the blessèd sun.
Then God be blest, it is the blessèd 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 named, even that it is,
And so it shall be so for Katherine.