Good morrow, Kate, for that’s your name, I hear.

Petruchio
Good morrow, Kate, for that’s your name, I hear.
Katherine
Well have you heard, but something hard of hearing.
They call me Katherine that do talk of me.
Petruchio
You lie, in faith, for you are called plain Kate,
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst.
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom,
Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate
(For dainties are all Kates)—and therefore, Kate,
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation:
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town,
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded
(Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs),
Myself am moved to woo thee for my wife.