- Katherina: [throws bouquet to the floor, jumps onto it; at the top of her voice] * I SHALL BE ANGRY ! *
- Petruchio: Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor, for 'tis the *mind* that makes the body rich, and as the sun brakes through the darkest clouds, so honour appeareth in the meanest habit.
- [first lines]
- Grumio: Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua, nursery of arts, I am arrived for fruitful Lombardy, the pleasant garden of great Italy.
- [last lines]
- Petruchio: Come, my Kate, we'll to bed. We three are married, but you two are sped. 'Twas I who won the wager, though you hit the white. And being a winner, God give you - good night!