Why, how now, daughter Katherine? In your dumps?

Baptista
Why, how now, daughter Katherine? In your dumps?
Katherine
Call you me daughter? Now I promise you
You have showed a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one half lunatic,
A madcap ruffian and a swearing Jack,
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out.
Petruchio
Father, ’tis thus: yourself and all the world
That talked of her have talked amiss of her.
If she be curst, it is for policy,
For she’s not froward, but modest as the dove;
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn.
For patience she will prove a second Grissel,
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity.
And to conclude, we have ’greed so well together
That upon Sunday is the wedding day.
Katherine
I’ll see thee hanged on Sunday first.