Transcription: Good morrow, Kate. Kate? Well, that's your name, I hear. You must be hard of hearing. They call me Catherine, who you talk of me. You're a liar, Kate, for you are called plain Kate. Oh. That Kate, wild Kate. Sometimes Kate the cursed, but Kate, my dainty Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom. Oh, Kate of my consolation. Have I not heard thy mildest praise in every town? Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, yet not so deeply as belongs to thee. Oh, Kate! Oh, look! Out, are you! Out! In faith I wooed to woo thee for my wife.
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