Scaena Quarta.
Enter Livia, Byancha, Tranio, and Rowland.
Liv.
Then I must be content sir, with my fortune.
Row.
And I with mine.
Liv.
I did not think, a look,
Or a poore word or two, could have displanted
Such a fix'd constancy, and for your end too.
Row.
Come, come, I know your courses: there's no gewgaws,
Your Rings, and Bracelets, and the Purse you gave me,
The money's spent in entertaining you
At Plays, and Cherry-gardens.
Liv.
There's your Chain too.
But if you'l give me leave, Ile weare the haire still;
I would yet remember you.
Bya.
Give him his love wench;
The yong man has imployment for 't.
Tra.
Fie Rowland.
Row.
You cannot fie me out a hundred pound
With this poore plot: yet, let me nere see day more,
If something do not struggle strangely in me.
Bya.
Young man, let me talk with you.
Row.
Wel young woman.
Bya.
This was your Mistris once.
Row.
Yes.
Bya.
Are ye honest?
I see you are young, and hansome.
Row.
I am honest.
Bya.
Why that's wel said: and there's no doubt your judgement
Is good enough, and strong enough to tell you
Who are your foes, and friends: why did you leave her?
Row.
She made a puppy of me.
Bya.
Be that granted:
She must doe so sometimes, and oftentimes;
Love were too serious else.
Row.
A witty woman.
Bya.
Had you lov'd me—
Row.
I would I had.
Bya.
And deerly;
And I had lov'd you so: you may love worse sir,
But that is not materiall.
Row.
I shal loose.
Bya.
Some time or other for variety
I should have cal'd you foole, or boy, or bid you
Play with the Pages: but have lov'd you stil,
Out of all question, and extreamly too;
You are a man made to be loved:
Row.
This woman
Either abuses me, or loves me deadly.
Bya.
Ile tell you one thing, if I were to choose
A husband to mine own mind, I should think
One of your mothers making would content me,
For o' my conscience she makes good ones.
Row.
Lady,
Ile leave you to your commendations:
I am in again, The divel take their tongues.
Bya.
You shall not goe.
Row.
I wil: yet thus far Livia,
Your sorrow may induce me to forgive you,
But never love again; if I stay longer,
I have lost two hundred pound.
Liv.
Good sir, but thus much—
Tra.
Turn if thou beest a man.
Liv.
But one kisse of you;
One parting kisse, and I am gone too.
Row.
Come,
I shall kisse fifty pound away at this clap:
We'l have one more, and then farewel.
Liv.
Farewel.
Bya.
Wel, go thy waies, thou bearst a kind heart with thee.
Tra.
H'as made a stand.
Bya.
A noble, brave young fellow,
Worthy a wench indeed.
Row.
I wil: I wil not. Exit Rowland.
Tra.
He's gone: but shot agen; play you but your part,
And I will keep my promise: forty Angels
In fair gold Lady: wipe your eyes: he's yours
If I have any wit.
Liv.
Ile pay the forfeit.
Bya.
Come then, lets see your sister, how she fares now,
After her skirmish: and be sure, Moroso
Be kept in good hand; then all's perfect, Livia.
Exeunt.