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I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine.

Bap.

I know not what to say, but give me your hands.

God send you joy, Petruchio, ’tis a match.

Gre., Tra.

Amen, say we. We will be witnesses.

Pet.

Father, and wife, and gentlemen, adieu.

I will to Venice, Sunday comes apace.

We will have rings and things, and fine array;

And kiss me, Kate, we will be married a’ Sunday.

Exeunt Petruchio and Katherine [severally].

Gre.

Was ever match clapp’d up so suddenly?

Bap.

Faith, gentlemen, now I play a merchant’s part,

And venture madly on a desperate mart.

Tra.

’Twas a commodity lay fretting by you;

’Twill bring you gain, or perish on the seas.

Bap.

The gain I seek is, quiet [in] the match.

Gre.

No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch.

But now, Baptista, to your younger daughter;

Now is the day we long have looked for.

I am your neighbor, and was suitor first.

Tra.

And I am one that love Bianca more

Than words can witness, or your thoughts can guess.

Gre.

Youngling, thou canst not love so dear as I.