Fifty comedies and tragedies written by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen ; all in one volume, published by the authors original copies, the songs to each play being added.

THE WOMANS PRIZE, OR THE TAMER TAM'D. A Comedy.

The Persons represented in the Play.

• Moroso, an old rich doating Citizen, suitor to Livia.
• ...
  Two Gentlemen, friends to Petruchio.
  • Sophocles,
  • Tranio,
• Petruchio, An Italian Gent. Husband to Maria.
• Rowland, A young Gent. in love with Livia.
• Petronius, Father to Maria and Livia.
• ...
  Two witty servants to Petruchio.
  • Jaques,
  • Pedro
• Doctor,
• Apothecarie,
• Watchmen,
• Porters,

Women.

• ...
  The two masculine daughters of Petronius.
  • Maria, A chaste witty Lady,
  • Livia, Mistriss to Rowland.
• ••iancha, Their Cosin, and Commander in chief.
• ...
  To the relief of the Ladies, of which, two were drunk.
  • City Wives,
  • Countrey Wives,
• Maids.

The Scene London.

PROLOGUE.

LAdies to you, in whose defence and right, Fletchers brave Muse prepar'd her self to fight I battel without blood, 'twas well fought, too, (The victory's yours, though got with much ado.) We do present this Comedy, in which Arivulet of pure wit flows, strong and rich I•• Fancy, Language, and all parts that may Add Grace and Ornament to a merry Play. Which this may prove. Yet not to go too far In promises from this our Female War. We do intreat the angry men would not Expect the mazes of a subtle plot, Set Speeches, high Expressions, and what's worse, In a true Comedy, politick discourse. The end we aim at, is to make you sport; Yet neither gall the City, nor the Court. Hear, and observe his Comique strain, and when Y are sick of melancholy, see't agen. 'Tis no dear Physick since 'twill quit the cost: Or his intentions with our pains, are lost.

Actus Primus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Moroso, Sophocles, and Tranio, with Rosemary, as from a wedding.

M••.

GOd give 'em joy.

Tra.

Amen.

Soph.

Amen, say I too: The pudding's now i'th' proof, alas poor wench. Through what a mine of patience must thou work, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou know'st good hour more?

Tra.

'Tis too true: Certain, Methinks her father has dealt harshly with her, Exceeding harshly, and not like a Father, To match her to this Dragon; I protest I pity the poor Gentlewoman.

Mor.

Methinks now, He's not so terrible as people think him.

Soph.

This old thief flatters, out of meer devotion, To please the Father for his second daughter.

Tra.

But shall he have her?

Soph.

Yes, when I have Rome. And yet the father's for him.

Mor.

I'll assure ye, I hold ••im a good man.

Sop••.

Yes sure a wealthy, But whether a good womans man, is doubtful.

Tra.

Would 'twere no worse.

Mar.

What though his other wife, Out of her most abundant soberness, Out of her daily hue and cries upon him, (For sure she was a rebel) turn'd his temper, And forc'd him blow as high as she? dos't follow He must retain that long since buried Tempest, To this soft Maid?

Soph.

I fear it.

Tra.

So do I too: And so far, that if God had made me woman, And his wife that must be—

Mor.

What would you do, Sir?

Tra.

I would learn to eat coals with an angry Cat, And spit sire at him: I would (to prevent him) Do all the ramping, roaring tricks, a whore Being drunk, and tumbling ripe, would tremble at: There is no safety else, nor moral wisdom. To be a wife, and his.

Soph.

So I should think too.

Tra.

For yet the bare remembrance of his first wife (I tell ye on my knowledge, and a truth too) Will make him start in's sleep, and very often Cry out for Cudgels, Colestaves, any thing; Hiding his breeches out of fear, her Ghost Should walk, and wear 'em yet. Since his first marriage, He is no more the still Petruchio, Than I am Babylon.

Soph.

He's a good fellow, And on my word I love him: but to think A fit match for this tender soul—.

Tra.

His very frown, if she but say her prayers Louder than men talk treason, makes him tinder; The motion of a Dial, when he's testy, Is the same trouble to him as a Water-work; She must do nothing of her self; not eat, Drink, say Sir, how do ye? make her ready, unready, Unless he bid her.

Soph.

He will bury her, Ten pound to twenty shillings, within these three weeks

Tra.

I'll be your half.

Enter Jaques with a pot of Wine.

Mor.

He loves her most extreamly, And so long 'twill be Honey-moon. Now Jaques. You are a busie man I am sure.

Jaq.

Yes certain, This old sport must have eggs,

Sop.

Not yet this ten daies.

Jaq.

Sweet Gentlemen with Muskadel.

Tra.

That's right, Sir.

Mor.

This fellow broods his Master: speed ye Jaques.

Soph.

We shall be for you presently.

Jaq.

Your worships Shall have it rich and neat: and o' my conscience As welcome as our Lady-day: Oh my old Sir, When shall we see your worship run at Ring? That hour, a standing were worth money.

Mor.

So Sir.

Jaq.

Upon my little honesty, your Mistriss, If I have any speculation, must think This single thrumming of a Fiddle, Without a Bow, but even poor sport.

Mor.

Y'are merry.

Ja.

Would I were wise too: so God bless your worship.

Tra.

The fellow tells you true.

Exit Jaq.

Soph.

When is the day man? Come, come, you'll steal a marriage.

Mor.

Nay, believe me: But when her Father pleases, I am ready, And all my friends shall know it.

Tra.

Why no•• now? One charge had serv'd for both.

Mor.

There's reason in't.

Soph.

Call'd Rowland—

Mor.

Will ye walk? They'll think we are lost: Come Gentlemen.

Tra.

You have wip'd him now.

Soph.

So will he never the wench, I hope.

Tra.

I wish it.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Rowland and Livia.

Row.

Now Livia, if you'll go away to night, If your affections be not made of words.

Liv.

I love you, and vou know how dearly Rowland, Is there none near us? my affections ever Have been your servants; with what superstition I have ever Sainted you—

Row:

Why then take this way.

Liv.

'Twill be a childish, and a less prosperous course; Than 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that knows not care: why should we do Our honest and our hearty love such wrong, To over-run our fortunes?

Row.

Then you flatter.

Liv.

Alas, you know I cannot.

Rom.

What hope's left else But flying to enjoy ye?

Liv.

None so far, For let it be admitted, we have time, And all things now in other expectation, My father's bent against us; what but ruine, Can such a by-way bring us? if your fears Would let you look with my eyes, I would shew you, And certain, how our staying here would win us A course, though somewhat longer, yet far surer.

Row.

And then Moroso h'as ye.

Liv.

No such matter For hold this certain, begging, stealing, whoring, Selling, (which is a sin unpardonable) Of counterfeit Cods, or musty English Croacus; Switches, or Stones for th' tooth-ache sooner finds me, Than that drawn Fox Moroso.

Row.

But his money, If wealth may win you—

Liv.

If a Hog may be High Priest among the Jews? his money Rowland? Oh Love forgive me, what faith hast thou? Why, can his money kiss me?

Row.

Yes.

Liv.

Behind, Laid out upon a Petticoat: or graspe me While I cry, Oh good thank you? o'my troth Thou mak'st me merry with thy fear: or lie with me, As you may do? alas, what fools you men are? His mouldy money? half a dozen Riders, That cannot sit, but stampt fast to their Saddles? No Rowland, no man shall make use of me; My beauty was born free, and free I'll give it To him that loves, not buys me. You yet doubt me,

Row.

I cannot say I doubt ye.

Liv.

Goe thy ways, Thou art the prettiest puling piece of passion: Y'faith I will not fail thee.

Row.

I had rather—

Liv.

Prethee believe me, if I do not carry it, For both our goods—

Row.

But—

Liv.

What but?

Row.

I would tell you.

Liv.

I know all you can tell me; all's but this, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 would have me, and lie with me; is't not so?

Row.

Yes.

Liv.

Why you shall; will that content you? Goe.

Row.

I am very loth to goe.

Enter Byancha and Maria.

Liv.

Now o' my conscience Thou art an honest fellow: here's my Sister; Go, prethee go; this kiss, and credit me, E'r I am three nights older, I am for thee: You shall hear what I do. Farewel.

Row.

Farewel.

Exit Rowland.

Liv.

Alas poor fool, how it looks? It would ev'n hang it self, should I but cross it. For pure love to the matter I must hatch it.

Bya.

Nay, never look for merry hour, Maria, If now you make it not; let not your blushes, Your modesty, and tenderness of spirit, Make you continual Anvile to his anger: Believe me, since his first wife set him going, Nothing can bind his rage: Take your own council, You shall not say that I perswaded you. But if you suffer him—

Mar.

Stay, shall I do it?

Bya.

Have you a stomach to't?

Mar.

I never shew'd it.

Bya.

'Twill shew the rarer and the stronger in you. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 do not say I urg'd you.

Mar.

I am perfect, Like Curtius, to redeem my Countrey, I have L••ap'd into this gulph of marriage, and I'll do it. Farewel all poorer thoughts, but spight and anger, Till I have wrought a miracle. Now cosin, •• am no more the gentle, tame Maria; ••••stake me not; I have a new soul in me ••ade of a North wind, nothing but tempest; ••ad like a tempest shall it make all ruin, Till I have run my Will out.

Bya.

This is brave now, If you continue it; but your own Will lead you.

Mar.

Adieu all tenderness, I dare continue; Maids that are made of fears, and modest blushes, V••••w me, and love example.

Bya.

Here is your Sister.

Mar.

Here is the brave old mans love.

Bya.

That loves the young man.

Mar.

I and hold thee there wench: what a grief of heart is't? When Paphos Revels should rowze up old night, To sweat against a Cork; to lie and tell The clock o'th lungs, to rise sport starv'd?

Liv.

Dear Sister, Where have you been, you talk thus?

Mar.

Why at Church, wench; Where I am ti'd to talke thus: I am a wife now.

Liv.

It seems so, and a modest.

Mar.

You are an ass; When thou art married once, thy modesty Will never buy thee pins.

Liv.

'Bless me.

Mar.

From what?

Bya.

From such a tame fool as our cosin Livia?

Liv.

You are not mad.

Mar.

Yes wench, and so must you be, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 none of our acquaintance: mark me Livia; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 indeed fit for our sex: 'Tis bed time. ••ardon me yellow Hymen, that I mean Thine offerings to protract, or to keep fasting 〈◊〉〈◊〉 valiant Bridegroom.

Liv.

Whither will this woman?

Bya.

You may perceive her end.

Liv.

Or rather fear it.

Mar.

Dare you be partner in't?

Liv.

Leave it Maria, I fear I have mark'd too much, for goodness leave it; Divest you with obedient hands, to bed.

Mar.

To bed? no Livia, there are Comets hang Prodigious over that yet; there's a fellow Must yet before I know that heat (ne'r start wench) Be made a man, for yet he is a monster; Here must his head be Livia.

Liv.

Never hope it. 'Tis as easie with a Sive to scoop the Ocean, as To tame Petruchio.

Mar.

Stay: Lucina hear me, Never unlock the treasure of my womb For humane fruit, to make it capable; Nor never with thy secret hand make brief A mothers labor to me; if I do Give way unto my married Husband's Will, Or be a Wife in any thing but hopes, Till I have made him easie as a child, And tame as fear, he shall not win a smile, Or a pleas'd look, from this austerity, Though it would pull another Joynture from him, And make him ev'ry day another man; And when I kiss him, till I have my Will, May I be barren of delights, and know Only what pleasures are in dreams, and guesses.

Liv.

A strange Exordium.

Bya.

All the several wrongs Done by Imperious Husbands to their Wives These thousand years and upwards, strengthen thee: Thou hast a brave cause.

Mar.

And I'll do it bravely, Or may I knit my life out ever after.

Liv.

In what part of the world got she this spirit? Yet pray Maria, look before you truly, Besides the obedience of a wife; Which you will find a heavy imputation, Which yet I cannot think your own, it shews So distant from your sweetness.

Mar.

'Tis I swear.

Liv.

Weigh but the person, and the hopes you have, To work this desperate cure.

Mar.

A weaker subject Would shame the end I aim at, disobedience. You talk too tamely: By the faith I have In mine own noble Will, that childish woman That lives a prisoner to her Husbands pleasure, Has lost her making, and becomes a beast, Created for his use, not fellowship.

Liv.

His first wife said as much.

Mar.

She was a fool, And took a scurvy course; let her be nam'd 'Mongst those that wish for things, but dare not do 'em: I have a new dance for him.

Liv.

Are you of this faith?

Bya.

Yes truly, and will die in't.

Liv.

Why then let's all wear breeches.

Mar.

Now thou com'st near the nature of a woman; Hang these tame hearted Eyasses, that no sooner See the Lure out, and hear their Husbands hollow, But cry like Kites upon 'em: The free Haggard (Which is that woman, that hath wing, and knows it, Spirit and plume) will make an hundred checks, To shew her freedom, sail in ev'ry air, And look out ev'ry pleasure; not regarding Lure, nor quarry, till her pitch command What she desires, making her foundred keeper Be glad to fling out trains, and golden ones, To take her down again.

Liv.

You are learned, Sister; Yet I say still take heed.

Mar.

A witty saying; I'll tell thee Livia, had this fellow tired As many wives as horses under him, With spurring of their patience; had he got A Patent, with an Office to reclaim us, Confirm'd by Parliament; had he all the malice And subtilty of Devils, or of us, Or any thing that's worse than both.

Liv.

Hey, hey boys, this is excellent.

Mar.

Or could he Cast his wives new again, like Bels, to make 'em Sound to his Will; or had the fearful name Of the first breaker of wild women: yet, Yet would I undertake this man, thus single, And, spight of all the freedom he has reach'd to, Turn him and bend him as I list, and mold him Into a babe again; that aged women, Wonting both teeth and spleen, may Master him.

Bya.

Thou wilt be chronicl'd.

Mar.

That's all I aim at.

Liv.

I must confess, I do with all my heart Hate an imperious Husband, and in time Might be so wrought upon.

Bya.

To make him cuckold?

Mar.

If he deserve it.

Liv.

Then I'll leave ye Ladies.

Bya.

Thou hast not so much noble anger in thee.

Mar.

Go sleep, go sleep, what we intend to do, Lies not for such starv'd souls, as thou hast Livia.

Liv.

Good night: the Bridegroom will be with you presently.

Mar.

That's more than you know,

Liv.

If ye work upon him, As you have promised, ye may give example, Which no doubt will be followed.

Mar.

So.

Bya.

Good night: we'll trouble you no further.

Mar.

If you intend no good, pray do no harm.

Liv.

None, but pray for you.

Exit Livia.

Bya.

Cheer wench.

Mar.

Now Byancha, Those wits we have, let's wind 'em to the height. My rest is up wench, and I pull for that Will make me ever famous. They that lay Foundations, are half-builders, all men say.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.

My Master forsooth.

Mar.

Oh how does thy Master? prethee commend me to him.

Jaq.

How's this? my Master stays forsooth.

Mar.

Why let him stay, who hinders him forsooth?

Jaq.

The Revel's ended now, To visit you.

Mar.

I am not sick.

Jaq.

I mean to see his chamber forsooth.

Mar.

Am I his Groom? where lay he last night forsooth?

Jap.

In the low matted Parlour.

Mar.

There lies his way by the long Gallery.

Jaq.

I mean your chamber: y'are very merry Mistriss.

Mar.

'Tis a good sign I am sound hearted Jaques: But if you'll know where I lie, follow me; And what thou seest, deliver to thy Master.

Bya.

Do gentle Jaques.

Exeunt.

Ja.

Ha, is the wind in that door? By'r Lady we shall have foul weather then: I do not like the shuffling of these women, They are mad beasts, when they knock their heads together: I have observ'd them all this day; their whispers, One in anothers ear, their signs and pinches, And breaking often into violent laughters: As if the end they purpos'd were their own. Call you this weddings? Sure this is a knavery, A very trick, and dainty knavery, Marvellous finely carried, that's the comfort: What would these women do in ways of honor? That are such Masters this way? Well, my Sir Has been as good at finding out these toys, As any living; if he lose it now, At his own peril be it. I must follow.

Exi••

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Servants with Lights, Petruchio, Petronius,, Moroso, Tranio, and Sophocles.

Pet.

You that are married, Gentlemen; have at ye For a round wager now.

Soph.

Of this nights Stage?

Petru.

Yes.

Soph.

I am your first man, a pair of Gloves of twenty shilling••

Petru.

Done: who takes me up next? I am for all bet••

Mor.

Well lusty Lawrence, were but my night now, Old as I am, I would make you clap on Spurs, But I would reach you, and bring you to your trot too: I would Gallants.

Petru.

Well said good Will; but where's the staff boy, ha Old father Time, your hour-glass is empty.

Tra.

A good tough train would break thee all to pieces; Thou hast not breath enough to say thy prayers.

Petron.

See how these boys despise us. Will you to bed son This pride will have a fall.

Petru.

Upon your daughter; But I shall rise again, if there be truth In Eggs, and butter'd Parsnips.

Petro.

Will you to bed son, and leave talking? To morrow morning we shall have you look, For all your great words, like St. George at Kingston, Running a foot-back from the furious Dragon, That with her angry tail belabours him For being lazie.

Tra.

His courage quench'd, and so far quench'd —

Petru.

'Tis well Sir. What then?

Soph.

Fly, fly, quoth then the fearfuldwarfe; Here is no place for living man.

Petru.

Well my masters, if I do sink under my busine•• as I find 'tis very possible, I am not the first that has m•• carried; So that's my comfort, what may be done wit•• out impeach or waste, I can and will do.

Enter Jaques.

How now, is my fair Bride a bed?

Jaq.

No truly, Sir.

Petron.

Not a bed yet? body o' me: we'll up and •• her: here's a coil with a Maiden-head, 'tis not intail'd, it?

Petru.

If it be, I'll try all the Law i'th' Land, but I'll it off: let's up, let's up, come.

Jaq.

That you cannot neither.

Petru.

Why?

Jaq.

Unless you'll drop through the Chimney like a D•• or force a breach i'th' windows: you may untile the ho•• 'tis possible.

Petru.

What dost thou m••an?

Jaq.

A moral, Sir, the Ballad will express it:

The wind and the rain, has turn'd you back again,

And you cannot be lodged there. The truth is, all the d••

Are baracadoed; not a Cathole, but holds a murd'rer i••

She's victuall'd for this month.

Petru.

Art not thou drunk?

Soph.

He's drunk, he's drunk; come, come, let's up.

Jaq.

Yes, yes, I am drunk: ye may go up, ye may ••tlemen, but take heed to your heads: I say no more.

Soph.

I'll try that.

Petron.

How dost thou say? the door fast lock'd fellow

Jaq.

Yes truly Sir, 'tis lock'd, and guarded too; two as desperate tongues planted behind it, as e'er yet ••ter'd: they stand upon their honors, and will not give

without strange composition, I'll assure you; marching a ••ay with their Pieces cockt, and Bullets in their mouths, will not satisfie them.

Petru.

How's this? how's this? they are—

Is there another with her?

Jaq.

Yes marry is there, and an Enginier.

Mar.

Who's that for Heavens sake?

Jaq.

Colonel Byancha, she commands the works: Spi••••la's but a Ditcher to her, there's a half-moon: I am but a poor man, but if you'll give me leave, I'll venture a years wages, draw all your force before it, and mount your ablest Piece of battery, you shall not enter it these three nights yet.

Enter Sophocles.

Petru.

I should laugh at that good Jaques.

Soph.

Beat back again, she's fortified for ever.

Jaq.

Am I drunk now, Sir?

Soph.

He that dares most, go up now, and be cool'd.

I have scap'd a pretty scowring.

Petru.

What are they mad? have we another Bedlam?

They do not talke I hope?

Soph.

Oh terribly, extreamly fearful, the noise at London-bridge is nothing near her.

Petru.

How got she tongue?

Soph.

As you got tail, she was born to't.

Petru.

Lock'd out a doors, and on my wedding night?

Nay, and I suffer this, I may goe graze:

Come Gentlemen, I'll batter; are these virtues?

Soph.

Do, and be beaten off with shame, as I was: I went up, came to th'door, knock'd, no body answer'd; knock'd lo••der, yet heard nothing: would have broke in by force; when suddainly a Water-work flew from the window with such violence, that had I not duck'd quickly like a Fryer, ••••••ra quis nescit? The chamber's nothing but a meer Ostend, in every window Pewter Cannons mounted, you'll quickly ••••d with what they are charg'd, Sir.

Petru.

Why then tantara for us.

Soph.

And all the lower Works lin'd sure with small shot, long tongues with Fire-locks, that at twelve score blank hit to the heart: now and ye dare go up.

Enter Maria and Byanca above.

Mar.

The window opens, beat a parley first; I am so much amaz'd, my very hair stands.

Petron.

Why how now Daughter: what intrench'd?

Mar.

A little guarded for my safety, Sir.

Petru.

For your safety Sweet-heart? why who offends you? I come not to use violence.

Mar.

I think you cannot, Sir, I am better fortified.

Petru.

I know your end, You would fain reprieve your Maiden-head A night, or two.

Mar.

Yes, or ten, or twenty, or say an hundred; Or indeed, till I list lie with you.

Soph.

That's a shrewd saying from this present hour, I never will believe a silent woman. When they break out they are bonfires.

Petro.

Till you list, lie with him? why who are you Madam?

Bya.

That trim Gentlemans wife, Sir.

Petru.

Cry you mercy, do you command too?

Mar.

Yes marry does she, and in chief.

Bya.

I do command, and you shall go without: (I mean your wife, for this night)

Mar.

And for the next too wench, and so as'tfol wols

Petr••.

Thou wilt not, wilt 'a?

Mar.

Yes indeed dear father, A••d till he seal to what I shall set down, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 any thing I know for ever.

Soph.

Indeed these are Bug-words.

Tra.

You hear Sir, she can talk, God be thanked.

Petru.

I would I heard it not, Sir.

Soph.

I find that all the pity bestow'd upon this woman, Makes but an Anagram of an ill wife, For she was never virtuous.

Petru.

You'll let me in I hope, for all this jesting.

Mar.

Hope still, Sir.

Petron.

You will come down I am sure.

Mar.

I am sure I will not.

Petron.

I'll fetch you then.

Bya.

The power of the whole County cannot, Sir, Unless we please to yield, which yet I think We shall not; charge when you please, you shall Hear quickly from us.

Mor.

Bless me from a chicken of thy hatching, Is this wiving?

Petru.

Prethee Maria tell me what's the reason, And doe it freely, you deal thus strangely with me? You were not forc'd to marry, your consent Went equally with mine, if not before it: I hope you do not doubt I want that mettle A man should have to keep a woman waking; I would be sorry to be such a Saint yet: My person, as it is not excellent, So 'tis not old, nor lame, nor weak with Physick, But well enough to please an honest woman, That keeps her house, and loves her Husband.

Mar.

'Tis so.

Petru.

My means and my conditions are no shamers Of him that owes 'em, all the world knows that, And my friends no reliers on my fortunes.

Mar.

All this I believe, and none of all these parcels I dare accept against; nay more, so far I am from making these the ends I aim at, These idle outward things, these womens fears, That were I yet unmarried, free to choose Through all the Tribes of man, I'll take Petruchio In's shirt, with one ten Groats to pay the Priest, Before the best man living, or the ablest That e'er leap'd out of Lancashire, and they are right ones.

Petron.

Why do you play the fool then, and stand prating Out of the window like a broken Miller!

Petru.

If you will have me credit you Maria, Come down, and let your love confirm it.

Mar.

Stay there, Sir, that bargain's yet to make.

Bya.

Play sure wench, the Pack s in thine own hand.

Soph.

Let me die lowsie, if these two wenches Be not brewing knavery to stock a Kingdom.

Petru.

Why this is a Riddle: I love you, and I love you not.

Mar.

It is so: And till your own experience do untie it, This distance I must keep,

Petru.

If you talk more, I am angry, very angry.

Mar.

I am glad on't, and I will talk.

Petru.

Prethee peace, Let me not think thou art mad. I tell thee woman, If thou goest forward, I am still Petruchio.

Mar.

And I am worse, a woman that can fear Neither Petruchio Furius, nor his fame, Nor any thing that tends to our allegeance; There's a short method for you, now you know me.

Petru.

If you can carry't so, 'tis very well.

Bya.

No, you shall carry it, Sir.

Petru.

Peace gentle Low-bel.

Petron.

Use no more words, but come down instantly, I charge thee by the duty of a child.

Petru.

Prethee come Maria, I forgive all.

Mar.

Stay there; That duty, that you charge me by (If you consider truly what you say) Is now another man's, you gave't away I' th' Church, if you remember, to my Husband: So all you can exact now, is no more But only a due reverence to your person,

Which thus I pay: Your blessing, and I am gone To bed for this night.

Petron.

This is monstrous: That blessing that St. Dunstan gave the Devil, If I were neer thee, I would give thee — Pull thee down by th' nose.

By.

Saints should not rave, Sir; A little Rubarb now were excellent.

Petru.

Then by that duty you owe to me Maria, Open the door, and be obedient: I am quiet yet.

Mar.

I do confess that duty, make your best on't.

Petru.

Why give me leave, I will.

Bya.

Sir, there's no learning An old stiff Jade to trot, you know the moral.

Mar.

Yet as I take it, Sir, I owe no more Than you owe back again.

Petru.

You will not Article? All I owe, presently, let me but up, I'll pay.

Mar.

Y'are too hot, and such prove Jades at length; You do confess a duty, or respect to me from you again: That's very near, or full the same with mine?

Petru.

Yes.

Mar.

Then by that duty, or respect, or what You please to have it, go to bed and leave me, And trouble me no longer with your fooling; For know, I am not for you.

Petru.

Well, what remedy?

Petron.

A sine smart Cudgel. Oh that I were near thee.

Bya.

If you had teeth now, what a case were we in?

Mor.

These are the most authentique Rebels, next Tyrone, I ever read of.

Mar.

A week hence, or a fortnight, as you bear you, And as I find my Will observ'd, I may, With intercession of some friends, be brought May be to kiss you; and so quarterly To pay a little Rent by composition, You understand me?

Soph.

Thou Boy thou.

Petru.

Well there are more Maids than Maudlin, that's my comfort.

Mar.

Yes, and more men than Michael.

Petru.

I must not to bed with this stomach, and no moat Lady.

Mar.

Feed where you will, so it be sound and wholsome, Else live at Livery, for I'll none with you.

By.

You had best back one of the Dairy Maids, they'll carry. But take heed to your girths, you'll get a bruise else.

Petru.

Now if thou wouldst come down and tender me: All the delights due to a marriage-bed, Study such kisses as would melt a man, And turn thy self into a thousand Figures, To add new flames unto me, I would stand Thus heavy, thus regardless, thus despising Thee, and thy best allurings: all the beauty That's laid upon your bodies, mark me well, For without doubt your mind's are miserable, You have no Masques for them: all this rare beauty, Lay but the Painter and the Silk-worm by, The Doctor with his Dyets, and the Tailor, And you appear like flea'd Cats, not so handsome.

Mar.

And we appear like her that sent us hither, That only excellent and beauteous nature; Truly our selves for men to wonder at, But too divine to handle; we are Gold, In our own natures pure; but when we suffer The husbands stamp upon us, then allays, And base ones of you men are mingled with us, And make us blush like Copper.

Petru.

Then, and never Till then are women to be spoken of, For till that time you have no souls I take it: Good night: come Gentlemen; I'll fast for this night, But by this hand, well; I shall come up yet?

Mar.

No.

Petru.

There will I watch thee like a wither'd Jury, Thou shalt neither have meat, Fire, nor Candle, Nor any thing that's easie: do you rebel so soon? Yet take mercy.

By.

Put up your Pipes: to bed Sir, I'll assure you A months siege will not shake us.

Moro.

Well said Colonel.

Mar.

To bed, to bed Petruchio: good night Gentlemen. You'll make my Father sick with sitting up: Here you shall find us any time these ten days, Unless we may march off with our contentment.

Petru.

I'll hang first.

Mar.

And I'll quarter if I do not, I'll make you know, and fear a wife Petruchio, There my cause lies. You have been famous for a woman-tamer, And bear the fear'd-name of a brave Wife-breaker: A woman now shall take those honors off, And tame you; nay, never look so bigg, she shall believe me, And I am she: what think ye; good night to all, Ye shall find Centinels.

By.

If ye dare sally.

Exeunt above.

Petro.

The devil's in 'em, ev'n the very devil, the down-right devil.

Petru.

I'll devil 'em: by these ten bones I will: I'll bring it to the old Proverb, no sport no pie:—taken dow•• i'th' top of all my speed? this is fine dancing: Gentlemen stick to me. You see our Freehold's touch'd, and by thi•• light, we will beleagure 'em, and either starve 'em out, or make 'em recreant.

Petro.

I'll see all passages stopt, but those about 'em: If the good women of the Town dare succor 'em, We shall have wars indeed.

Soph.

I'll stand perdue upon 'em.

Mor.

My Regiment shall lie before.

Jaq.

I think so. 'tis grown too old to stand.

Petru.

Let's in, and each provide his tackle, We'll fire 'em out, or make 'em take their pardons: Hear what I say on their bare knees— Am I Petruchio, fear'd, and spoken of, And on my wedding night am I thus jaded?

Exeunt om••

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Rowland and Pedro at several doors.

Row.

Now Pedro?

Ped.

Very busie Master Rowland.

Row.

What haste man?

Ped.

I beseech you pardon me, I am not mine own man.

Row.

Thou art not mad?

Ped.

No; but believe me, as hasty—

Row.

The cause good Pedro?

Ped.

There be a thousand Sir; you are not married?

Row.

Not yet.

Ped.

Keep your self quiet then.

Row.

Why?

Ped.

You'll find a Fiddle That never will be tun'd else: from all women —

Exi••

Row.

What alls the fellow tro? Jaques?

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.

Your friend Sir. But very full of business.

Row.

Nothing but business? Prethee the reason, is there any dying?

Jaq.

I would there were Sir.

Row.

But thy business?

Jaq.

I'll tell you in a word, I am sent to lay An Imposition upon Souse and Puddings. Pasties, and penny Custards, that the women May not relieve you Rebels: Fare ye well, Sir.

Row.

How does my Mistriss?

Jaq.

Like a resty jade.

She's spoil'd for riding.

Exit Jaques.

Row.

What a devil ail they?

Enter Sophocles.

Custards, and penny Pasties, Fools and Fiddles, What's this to th' purpose? Oh well met.

Soph.

Now Rowland. I cannot stay to talk long.

Row.

What's the matter? Here's stirring, but to what end? whither goe you?

Soph.

To view the Works.

Row.

What Works?

Soph.

The womens Trenches.

Row.

Trenches? are such to see?

Soph.

I do not jest, Sir.

Row.

I cannot understand you.

Soph.

Do not you hear In what state of quarrel the new Bride Stands with her Husband?

Row.

Let him stand with her, and there's an end.

Soph.

It should be, but by'r Lady She holds him out at Pikes end, and desies him, And now is fortifi'd, such a Regiment of Rutters Never defied men braver: I am sent To view their preparation.

Row.

This is news Stranger, than Arms in the air: you saw not My gentle Mistriss?

Soph.

Yes, and meditating Upon some secret business, when she had found it She leap'd for joy, and laugh'd, and straight retir'd To shun Moroso.

Row.

This may be for me.

Soph.

Will you along?

Row.

No.

Soph.

Farewel.

Exit Sophocles.

Row.

Farewel, Sir. What should her musing mean, and what her joy in't, ••f not for my advantage? stay ye; may not

Enter Livia at one door, and Moroso at another, hearkning.

That bob-tail jade Moroso, with his Gold, His gew-gaudes, and the hope she has to send him Quickly to dust, excite this? here she comes, And yonder walks the Stallion to discover: Yet I'll salute her: save you beauteous Mistriss.

Liv.

The Fox is kennell'd for me: save you Sir.

Row.

Why do you look so strange?

Liv.

I use to look Sir Without examination.

M••r.

Twenty Spur-Royals for that word.

Row.

Belike then The object discontents you?

Liv.

Yes it does.

Row.

Is't come to this? you know me, do you not?

Liv.

Yes, as I may know many by repentance.

Row.

Why do you break your faith?

Liv.

I'll tell you that too, You are under age, and no band holds upon you.

M••r.

Excellent wench.

Liv.

Sue out your understanding, And get more hair to cover your bare knuckle; (For boys were made for nothing, but dry kisses) And if you can, more manners.

M••r.

Better still.

Liv.

And then if I want Spanish Gloves, or Stockings, A ten pound Wastecoat, or a Nag to hunt on, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 may be I shall grace you to accept 'em.

Row.

Farewel, and when I credit women more, ••ay I to Smithfield, and there buy a Jade, ••And know him to be so) that breaks my neck.

Liv.

Because I have known you, I'll be thus kind to you; ••••rewel, and be a man, and I'll provide you, ••••••ause I see y'are desperate, some staid Chamber-maid. That may relieve your youth with wholsome doctrine.

Mor.

She's mine from all the world: ha wench?

Liv.

Ha Chicken? —

gives him a box o'th' ear, and Ex.

Mor.

How's this? I do not love these favors: save you.

Row.

The devil take thee —

wrings him by th' nose.

Mor.

Oh!

Row.

There's a Love-token for you: thank me now.

Mor.

I'll think on some of ye, and if I live, My nose alone shall not be plaid withal.

Exit.

Actus Secundus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Petronius, and Moroso.

Petro.

A Box o' th' ear do you say?

Mor.

Yes sure, a sound one, Beside my nose blown to my hand; if Cupid Shoot Arrows of that weight, I'll swear devoutly, H'as sued his Livery, and is no more a boy.

Petro.

You gave her some ill language?

Mor.

Not a word,

Petro.

Or might be you were fumbling?

Mor.

Would I had Sir. I had been a forehand then; but to be baffl'd, And have no feeling of the cause

Petro.

Be patient, I have a medicine clapt to her back will cure her.

Mor.

No sure it must be afore, Sir.

Petro.

O' my conscience, When I got these two wenches (who till now Ne'r shew'd their riding) I was drunk with Bastard, Whose nature is to form things like it self Heady, and monstrous: did she s••ight him too?

Mor.

That's all my comfort: a meer Hobby-horse She made child Rowland: s'foot she would not know him, Not give him a free look, not reckon him Among her thoughts, which I held more than wonder, I having seen her within's three days kiss him. With such an appetite as though she would eat him.

Petro.

There is some trick in this: how did he take it;

Mor.

Ready to cry; he ran away.

Petro.

I fear her. And yet I tell you, ever to my anger, She is as tame as innocency; it may be This blow was but a favour.

Mor.

I'll be sworn 'twas well tied on then.

Petro.

Goe too, pray forget it, I have bespoke a Priest: and within's two hours I'll have ye married; will that please you?

Mor.

Yes.

Petro.

I'll see it done my self, and give the Lady Such a sound exhortation for this knavery I'll warrant you, shall make her smell this month on't.

Mor.

Nay good Sir be not violent.

Petro.

Neither —

Mor.

It may be Out of her earnest love there grew a longing (As you know women have such toys) in kindness, To give me a box o'th' ear, or so.

Petro.

It may be.

Mor.

I reckon for the best still: this night then I shall enjoy her.

Petro.

You shall handsel her.

Mor.

Old as I am, I'll give her one blow for't Shall make her groan this twelve-month,

Petro.

Where's your Joynture?

Mor.

I have a Joynture for her.

Petro.

Have your Council perus'd it yet?

Mor.

No Council but the night, and your sweet daughter,

Shall e'r peruse that joynture.

Petro.

Very well, Sir.

Moro.

I'll no demurrers on't, nor no rejoynders. The other's ready seal'd.

Petro.

Come then let's comfort My Son Petruchio, he's like little Children That loose their baubles, crying ripe.

Mor.

Pray tell me, Is this stern woman still upon the flaunt Of bold defiance?

Petro.

Still, and still she shall be, Till she be starv'd out, you shall see such justice, That women shall be glad after this tempest, To tie their husbands shooes, and walk their horses.

Mor.

That were a merry world: do you hear the rumor? They say the women are in insurrection, And mean to make a—

Petro.

They'll sooner Draw upon walls as we do: Let 'em, let 'em, We'll ship 'em out in Cuck-stools, there they'll sail As brave Columbus did, till they discover The happy Islands of obedience. We stay too long, Come.

Mor.

Now St. George be with us.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Livia alone.

Liv.

Now if I can but get in handsomely, Father I shall deceive you; and this night For all your private plotting I'll no wedlock; I have shifted sail, and sind my Sisters safety A sure retirement; pray to heaven that Rowland Do not believe too far, what I said to him, For you old Foxcase forc'd me, that's my fear. Stay, let me see, this quarter sierce Petruchio Keeps with his Myrmidons, I must be suddain, If he seize on me, I can look for nothing But Marshal-Law; to this place have I scap'd him; Above there.

Enter Maria and Byancha above.

Mar.

Chevai'a.

Liv.

A friend.

By.

Who are you?

Liv.

Look out and know.

Mar.

Alas poor wench, who sent thee? What weak fool made thy tongue his Orator? I know you come to parly.

Liv.

Y'are deceiv'd, Urg'd by the goodness of your cause, I come To do as you do.

Mar.

Y'are too weak, too foolish, To cheat us with your smoothness: do not we know Thou hast been kept up tame?

Liv.

Believe me.

Mar.

No, prethee good Livia Utter thy Eloquence somewhere else.

By.

Good Cosin Put up your Pipes; we are not for your palate Alas we know who sent you.

Liv.

O' my word —

By.

Stay there; you must not think your word, Or by your Maidenhead, or such Sunday oaths, Sworn after Even-Song, can inveigle us To los•• our hand-fast: did their wisdoms think That sent you hither, we would be so foolish, To entertain our gentle Sister Sinon, And give her credit, while the wooden Jade Petruchio stole upon us: no good Sister, Go home, and tell the merry Greeks that sent you, Ilium shall burn, and I, as did Aeneas, Will on my back, spite of the Myrmidons, Carry this warlike Lady, and through Seas Unknown, and unbeliev'd, seek out a Land, Where like a race of noble Amazons We'll roo•• our selves, and to our endless glory Live, and despise base men.

Liv.

I'll second ye.

By.

How long have you been thus?

Liv.

That's all one, Cosin, I stand for freedom now.

By.

Take heed of lying; For by this light, if we do credit you, And find you tripping, his infliction That kill'd the Prince of Orange, will be sport To what we purpose,

Liv.

Let me feel the heaviest.

Mar.

Swear by thy Sweet-heart Rowland (for by your maiden-head, I fear 'twill be too late to swear) you mean Nothing but fair and safe, and honourable To us, and to your self.

Liv.

I swear.

By.

Stay yet, Swear as you hate Moroso, that's the surest, And as you have a certain fear to sind him Worse than a poor dry'd Jack, full of more aches Than Autumn has; more knavery, and usury, And foolery, and brokery, than dogs-ditch: As you do constantly believe he's nothing But an old empty bag with a grey beard, And that Beard such a bob-tail, that it looks Worse than a Mares tail eaten off with Fillies: As you acknowledge that young handsome wench That lies by such a Bilboa blade that bends With ev'ry pass he makes, to th' hilts, miserable, A dry Nurse to his Coughs. a fewterer To such a nasty fellow, a robb'd thing Of all delights youth looks for: and to end, One cast away on course beef, born to brush That everlasting Cassock that has worn As many Servants out, as the Northeast passage Has consum'd Sailors: if you swear this, and truly Without the reservation of a gown Or any meritorious Petticoat, 'Tis like we shall believe you.

Liv.

I do swear it.

Mar.

Stay yet a little; came this wholsome motion (Deal truly Sister) from your own opinion, Or some suggestion of the Foe?

Liv.

Nev'r fear me, For by that little faith I have in Husbands, And the great zeal I bear your cause, I come Full of that liberty you stand for, Sister.

Mar.

If we believe, and you prove recreant, Livia, Think what a maim you give the noble Cause We now stand up for: Think what women shall, An hundred years hence, speak thee, when examples Are look'd for, and so gr••at ones, whose relations, Spoke as we do 'em wench, shall make new customs,

By.

If you be false, repent, go home, and pray, And to the serious women of the City Confess your self; bring not a sin so hainous To load thy soul to this place: mark me Livia, If thou be'st double, and betray'st our honors, And we fail in our purpose: get thee where There is no women living, nor no hope There ever shall be.

Mar.

If a Mothers daughter, That ever heard the name of stubborn husband Find thee, and know thy sin.

By.

Nay, if old age, One that has worn away the name of woman, And no more left to know her by, but railing, No teeth, nor eyes, nor legs, but wooden ones Come but i'th' wind-ward of thee, for sure she'll smell the••

Thou'lt be so rank, she'll ride thee like a night-Mare, And say her Prayers back-ward to undo thee: She'll curse thy meat and drink, and when thou marriest, Clap a sound spell for ever on thy pleasures.

Mar.

Children of five year old, like little Fairies, Will pinch thee into motley: all that ever Shall live, and hear of thee, I mean all women, Will (like so many furies) shake their keys; And toss their flaming distaffs o'r their heads, Crying revenge: take heed, 'tis hideous: Oh 'tis a fearful office, if thou hadst (Though thou be'st perfect now) when thou cam'st hither, A false imagination, get thee gone, And as my learned Cosin said, repent, This place is sought by soundness.

Liv.

So I seek it, Or let me be a most despis'd example.

Mar.

I do believe thee, be thou worthy of it. You come not empty?

Liv.

No, here's Cakes, and cold meat, And Tripe of proof: behold, here's Wine and Beer, Be suddain, I shall be surpriz'd else.

Mar.

Meet at the low parlour door, there lies a close way: What fond obedience you have living in you, Or duty to a man before you enter, Fling it away, 'twill but defile our Off'rings.

By.

Be wary as you come,

Liv.

I warrant ye.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter three Maids.

1 Mai.

How goes your business Girls?

2.

A foot, and fair.

3.

If fortune favour us: away to your strength, The Countrey Forces are arriv'd, be gone, We are discover'd else.

1.

Arm, and be valiant.

2.

Think of our cause.

3.

Our Justice.

1.

'Tis sufficient.

Exeunt.

Scaene Quarta.

Enter Rowland and Tranio at several doors.

Tra.

Now Rowland?

Row.

How doe you?

Tra.

How dost thou man? Thou look'st ill:

Bow.

Yes, pray can you tell me Tranio, Who knew the devil first?

Tra.

A woman.

Row.

So. Were they not well acquainted?

Tra.

May be so, For they had certain Dialogues together.

Row.

He sold her fruit, I take it?

Tra.

Yes, and Cheese That choak'd all mankind after.

Row.

Canst thou tell me Whether that woman ever had a faith After she had eaten?

Tra.

That's a School-question

Row.

No, 'Tis no question, for believe me Tranio, That cold fruit after eating bre••d naught in her But windy promises, and chollick vows That broke out both ways.

Row.

Thou hast heard I am sure Of Esculapius, a far famed Surgeon, One that could set together quarter'd Traitors And make 'em honest men.

Tra.

How dost thou Rowland?

Row.

Let him but take, (if be dare do a cure Shall get him fame indeed) a faithless woman, There will be credit for him, that will speak him, A broken woman Tranio, a base woman, And if he can cure such a rack of honor Let him come here, and practice.

Tra.

Now for honors sake, Why what ail'st thou Rowland?

Row.

I am ridden Tranio. And spur-gall'd to the life of patience (Heaven keep my wits together) by a thing Our worst thoughts are too noble for, a woman.

Tra.

Your Mistriss has a little frown'd it may be?

Row.

She was my Mistriss.

Tra.

Is she not?

Rdw.

No Tranio. She has done me such disgrace, so spitefully So like a woman bent to my undoing, That henceforth a good horse shall be my Mistriss, A good Sword, or a Book: and if you see her, Tell her I beseech you, even for love sake.—

Tra.

I will Rowland.

Row.

She may s••oner Count the good I have thought her, Our old love and our friend••hip, Shed one true tear, mean one hour constantly, Be old and honest, married, and a maid, Than make me see her more, or more believe her: And now I have met a messenger, farewel Sir.

Exit.

Tra.

Alas poor Rowland, I will do it for thee: This is that dog Moroso, but I hope To see him cold i'th' mouth first, e'r he enjoy her: I'll watch this young man, desperate thoughts may seize him, And if my purse or council can, I'll ease him.

Exit.

Scaena Quinta.

Enter Petruchio, Petronius, Moroso, and Sophocles.

Petru.

For look you Gentlemen, say that I grant her, Out of my free and liberal love, a pardon, Which you, and all men else know, she deserves not, (Teneatis amici) can all the world leave laughing?

Petro.

I think not.

Petru.

No by—they cannot; For pray consider, have you ever read, Or heard of, or can any man imagine. So stiff a Tom-boy, of so set a malice, And such a brazen resolution, As this young Crab-tree? and then answer me, And mark but this too friends, without a cause, Not a foul word come cross her, not a fear, She justly can take hold on, and do you think I must sleep out my anger, and endure it, Sow pillows to her ease, and lull her mischief? Give me a Spindle first: no, no my Masters, Were she as fair as Nell-a-Greece, and housewife, As good as the wise Sailors wife, and young still, Never above fifteen, and these tricks to it, She should ride the wild Mare once a week, she should, (Believe me friends she should) I would tabor her, Till all the Legions that are crept into her, Flew out with fire i'th' tails.

Soph.

Methinks you err now, For to me seems, a little sufferance Were a far surer cure.

Petru.

Yes, I can suffer, Where I see promises of peace and amendment.

Mor.

Give her a few conditions.

Petru.

I'll be hanged first.

Petron.

Give her a Crab-tree Cudgel.

Petru.

So I will; And after it a flock-bed for her bones. And hard eggs, till they brace her like a Drum, She shall be pamper'd with — She shall not know a stool in ten months, Gentlemen.

Soph.

This must not be.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.

Arm, arm, out with your weapons, For all the women in the Kingdom's on ye;

Enter Pedro.

They swarm like wasps, and nothing can destroy 'em, But stopping of their hive, and smothering of 'em

Ped.

Stand to your guard, Sir, all the devils extant Are broke upon us like a cloud of thunder; There are more women marching hitherward, In rescue of my Mistriss, than e'er turn'd tail At Sturbridge Fair, and I believe, as fiery.

Jaq.

The forlorn-hope's led by a Tanner's wife, I know her by her Hide, a desperate woman: She flead her Husband in her youth, and made Raynes of his Hide to ride the parish. Take 'em all together, They are a genealogy of Jennets, gotten And born thus by the boisterous breath of Husbands; They serve sure, and are swift to catch occasion, (I mean their soes or Husbands) by the forelocks, And there they hang like favours; cry they can But more for Noble spight, than fear: and crying Like the old Giants that were foes to heaven, They heave ye stool on stool, and fling main Pot-lids Like massie Rocks, dart Ladles, tossing Irons, And Tongs like Thunderbolts, till over laid, They sall beneath the weight; yet still aspiring At those Emperious Godheads that would tame 'em. There's ne'r a one of these, the worst and weakest, (Chuse where you will,) b••t dare attempt the raising, Against the soveraign peace of Puritans, A May-pole and a Morris, maugre mainly Their zeal, and Dudgeon-daggers: and yet more, Dares plant a stand of batt'ring Ale against 'em, And drink 'em out o'th' parish.

Soph.

Lo you fierce Petruchio, this comes of your impatience.

Ped.

There's one brought in the Bears against the Canons Of the Town, made it good, and fought 'em.

Jaq.

Another to her everlasting fame, erected Two Ale-houses of ease: the Quarter-Sessions Running against her roundly; in which business Two of the disanullers lost their night-caps: A•• third stood excommunicate by the cudgel; The Constable, to her eternal glory, Drunk hard, and was converted, and she victor.

Ped.

Then are they victualed with Pies and Puddings, (The trappings of good Stomachs) noble Ale The true defender, Sausages, and smoak'd ones, If need be, such as serve for Pikes; and Pork, (Better the Jews ne'r hated:) here and there A bottle of Metheglin, a stout Britain That will stand to 'em; what else they want, they war for.

Petru.

Come to council.

Soph.

Now you must grant conditions, or the Kingdom Will have no other talke but this.

Petron.

Away then, and let's advise the best.

Soph.

Why do you tremble?

Mor.

Have I liv'd thus long to be knockt o'th' head, With half a Washing-beetle: pray be wise, Sir.

Petru.

Come, something I'll do, but what it is, I know not.

Soph.

To Council then, and let's avoid their follies. Guard all the doors, or we shall not have a Cloak left.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia:

Enter Petronius, Petruchio, Moroso, Sophocles, and Tranio.

Petro.

I am indifferent, though I must confess, I had rather see her carted.

Tra.

No more of that, Sir.

Soph.

Are ye resolv'd to give her fair conditions? 'Twill be the safest way.

Petru.

I am distracted, Would I had run my head into a halter When I first woo'd her: if I offer peace, She'll urge her own conditions, that's the devil.

Soph.

Why, say she do?

Petru.

Say, I am made an Ass, then; I know her aim: may I, with reputation (Answer me this) with safety of mine honor, (After the mighty manage of my first wife, Which was indeed a fury to this Filly, After my twelve strong labours to reclaim her, Which would have made Don Hercules horn mad, And hid him in his Hide) suffer this Cicely? E're she have warm'd my sheets, e're grappell'd with me, This Pinck, this painted Foist, this Cockle-boat, To hang her Fights out, and defie me friends, A well known man of war? if this be equal, And I may suffer, say, and I have done?

Petron.

I do not think you may.

Tra.

You'll make it worse, Sir.

Soph.

Pray hear me good Petruchio: but ev'n now, You were contented to give all conditions, To try how far she would carry: 'Tis a folly, (And you will find it so) to clap the curb on, E're you be sure it proves a natural wildness, And not a forc'd. Give her conditions, For on my life this trick is put into her,

Petron.

I should believe so too.

Soph.

And not her own.

Tra.

You'll find it so.

Soph.

Then if she flownder with you, Clap spurs on, and in this you'll deal with temperance, Avoid the hurry of the world.

Tra.

And loose.

Musick above.

Mor.

No honor on my life, Sir.

Petru.

I will do it.

Petron.

It seems they are very merry.

Enter Jaques.

Petru.

Why Heaven hold it.

Mor.

Now Jaques?

Jaq.

They are i'th' flaunt, Sir.

Soph.

Yes we hear 'em.

Jaq.

They have got a stick of Fiddles, and they firk it, In wondrous ways, the two grand Capitano's, (They brought the Auxiliary Regiments) Dance with their coats tuckt up to their bare breeches, And bid the Kingdom kiss 'em, that's the burden; They have got Metheglin, and audacious Ale; And talk like Tyrants.

Petron.

How knowest thou?

Jaq.

I peept in At a loose Lansket.

SONG.

A Health for all this day To the woman that bears the sway And wears the breeches; Let it come, let it come. Let this health be a Seal, For the good of the Common-weal the woman shall wear the breeches. Let's drink then and laugh it And merrily merrily quaff it And tipple, and tipple a round here's to thy fool, and to my fool. Come, to all fools though it cost us wench, many a pound.

Tra.

Hark.

Petro.

A Song, pray silence.

All the Women above. Citizens and Countrey women.

M••r.

They look out.

Petru.

Good ev'n Ladies.

Mar.

Good you good ev'n Sir.

Petru.

How have you slept to night?

Mar.

Exceeding well Sir.

Petru.

Did you not wish me with you?

Mar.

No, believe me, I never thought upon you.

Cun.

Is that he?

Bya.

Yes.

Cun.

Sir?

Soph.

She has drank hard, mark her Hood.

Cun.

You are—

Soph.

Learnedly drunk, I'll hang else: let her utter.

Cun.

And I must tell you, viva voce friend, A very foolish fellow.

Tra.

There's an Ale figure.

Petru.

I thank you Susan Brotes.

Cit.

Forward Sister.

Cun.

You have espoused here a hearty woman, A comly, and courageous.

Petru.

Well, I have so.

Cun.

And to the comfort of distressed damsels, Women out-worn in wedlock; and such vessels, This woman has defied you.

Petru.

It should seem so.

Cun.

And why?

Petru.

Yes, can you tell?

Cun.

For thirteen causes.

Petru.

Pray by your patience Mistriss.

Cit.

Forward Sister.

Petru.

Do you mean to treat of all these?

Cit.

Who shall let her?

Petro.

Do you hear, Velvet hood, we come not now To hear your doctrine

Cun.

For the first, I take it, ••t doth divide it self into seven branches.

Petru.

Hark you good Maria, Have you got a Catechiser here?

Tra.

Good zeal.

Soph.

Good three pil'd predication, will you peace, And hear the cause we come for?

Cun.

Yes bob-tails We know the cause you come for, here's the cause, But never hope to carry her, never dream Or flatter your opinions with a thought Of base repentance in her.

Cit.

Give me Sack, By this, and next strong Ale.

Cun.

Swear forward Sister.

Cit.

By all that's cordial, in this place we'll bury Our bones, fames, tongues, our triumphs and all That ever yet was chronicl'd of woman; But this brave wench, this excellent despiser, This bane of dull obedience, shall inherit His liberal Will, and march off with conditions Noble, and worth her self.

Cun.

She shall Tom Tilers, And brave ones too, my Hood shall make a Hearse-cloth, And I'll lie under it like Jone o' Gaunt, E'r I go less, my Distaff stuck up by me, For the eternal Trophy of my conquests; And loud fame at my head with two main bottles, Shall fill to all the world the glorious fall Of old Don Gillian.

Cit.

Yet a little further, We have taken Arms in rescue of this Lady; Most just and Noble: if ye beat us off Without conditions, and we recant, ••se us as we deserve; and first degrade us ••f all our antient chambring: next that The Symbols of our secresie, silk Stockings, Hew of our heels; our petticoats of Arms Tear off our bodies, and our Bodkins break Over our coward heads.

Cun.

And ever after To make the tainture most notorious, At all our Crests, videlicet our Plackets. Let Laces hang, and we return again Into our former titles, Dary-maids.

Petru.

No more wars: puissant Ladies, shew conditions And freely I accept 'em.

Mar.

Call in Livia; She's in the Treaty too.

Enter Livia above.

Mor.

How, Livia?

Mar.

Hear you that Sir? There's the conditions for ye, pray peruse 'em.

Petron.

Yes, there she is: 't had been no right rebellion, Had she held off; what think you man?

Mor.

Nay nothing. I have enough o'th' prospect: o' my conscience, The worlds end, and the goodness of a woman Will come together.

Petron.

Are you there sweet Lady?

Liv.

Cry you mercy Sir, I saw you not: your blessing.

Petron.

Yes, when I bless a jade, that stumbles with me. How are the Articles?

Liv.

This is for you Sir; And I shall think upon't.

Mor.

You have us'd me finely.

Liv.

There's no other use of thee now extant, But to be hung up, Cassock, Cap, and all, For some strange monster at Apothecaries.

Petron.

I hear you whore.

Liv.

It must be his then Sir, For need will then compel me.

Cit.

Blessing on thee.

Petron.

There's no talking to 'em; How are they Sir?

Petru.

As I expected: Liberty and clothes,

Reads.

When, and in what way she will: continual moneys, Company, and all the house at her dispose; No tongue to say, why is this? or whether will it; New Coaches, and some buildings, she appoints here; Hangings, and Hunting-horses: and for Plate And Jewels for her private use, I take it, Two thousand pound in present: then for Musick, And women to read French;

Petron.

This must not be.

Petru.

And at the latter end a clause put in, That Livia shall by no man be importun'd. This whole month yet, to marry.

Petron.

This is monstrous.

Petru.

This shall be done, I'll humor her awhile: If nothing but repentance and undoing Can win her love, I'll make a shift for one.

Soph.

When ye are once a bed, all these conditions Lie under your own seal.

Mar.

Do you like 'em?

Petru.

Yes. And by that faith I gave you 'fore the Priest I'll ratifie 'em.

Cun.

Stay, what pledges?

Mar.

No, I'll take that oath; But have a care you keep it.

Cit.

'Tis not now As when Andrea liv'd.

Cun.

If you do juggle, Or alter but a Letter of these Articles We have set down the self-same persecution.

Mar.

Mistrust him not.

Petru.

By all my honesty—

Mar.

Enough, I yield.

Petron.

What's this Inserted here?

Soph.

That the two valiant women that commanded here Shall have a Supper made 'em, and a large one, And liberal entertainment without grudging, And pay for all their soldiers.

Petru.

That shall be too; And if a Tun of Wine will serve to pay 'em, They shall have justice: I ordain ye all Pay-masters, Gentlemen,

Tra.

Then we shall have sport boys,

Mar.

We'll meet you in the Parlor.

Petru.

Ne'r look sad, Sir, for I will do it,

Soph.

There's no danger in't.

Petro.

For Livia's Article you shall observe it, I have ti'd my self.

Petron.

I will.

Petru.

A long then: now Either I break, or this stiff plant must bow.

Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Tranio and Rowland.

Tra.

COme you shall take my counsel.

Row.

I shall hang first. I'll no more love, that's certain, 'tis a bane, (Next that they poison Rats with) the most mortal: No, I thank Heaven, I have got my sleep again, And now begin to write sence; I can walk ye A long hour in my chamber like a man, And think of some thing that may better me; Some serious point of Learning, or my state; No more ay-mees, and Mistrisses, Tranio, Come near my brain. I'll tell thee, had the devil But any essence in him of a man, And could be brought to love, and love a woman, 'Twould make his head ake worser than his horns do; And firk him with a fire he never felt yet, Would make him dance. I tell thee there is nothing (It may be thy case Tranio, therefore hear me:) Under the Sun (reckon the mass of follies Crept into th' world with man) so desperate, So mad, so senceless, poor and base, so wretched, Roguy, and scurvy,

Tra.

Whether wilt thou Rowland?

Row.

As 'tis to be in love.

Tra.

And why for virtue sake?

Row.

And why for virtue's sake? dost thou not conceive me?

Tra.

No by my troth.

Row.

Pray then and heartily, For fear thou fall into't: I'll tell thee why too, (For I have hope to save thee) when thou lovest, And first beginst to worship the gilt calf:

Imprimis,

thou hast lost thy gentry, And like a Prentice, flung away thy Freedom, Forthwith thou art a slave.

Tr••.

That's a new Doctrine.

Row.

Next thou art no more man.

Tra.

What then?

Row.

A Fryppery; Nothing but braided hair and penny ribbond, Glove, Garter, Ring, Rose, or at best a Swabber, If thou canst love so near to keep thy making, Yet thou wilt lose thy language.

Tra.

Why?

Row.

Oh Tranio, Those things in love, ne'er talk as we do,

Tra.

No?

Row.

No, without doubt, they sigh, and shake the head, And sometimes whistle dolefully.

Tra.

No tongue?

Row.

Yes Tranio, but no truth in't, nor no reason, And when they cant (for 'tis a kind of canting) Ye shall hear, if you reach to understand 'em (Which you must be a fool first, or you cannot) Such gibb'rish; such believe me, I protest Sweet, And oh dear Heavens, in which such constellations Reign at the births of Lovers, this is too well, And daigne me Lady, daigne me I beseech ye You poor unworthy lump, and then she licks him.

Tra.

A—on't, this is nothing.

Row.

Thou hast hit it: Then talks she ten times worse, and wryes, and wriggles, As though she had the Itch (and so it may be.)

Tra.

Why thou art grown a strange discoverer.

Row.

Of mine own follies Tranio.

Tra.

Wilt thou Rowland, Certain ne'er love again?

Row.

I think so, certain, And if I be not dead drunk I shall keep it.

Tra.

Tell me but this; what dost thou think of women?

Row.

Why, as I think of Fiddles, they delight me, Till their strings break.

Tra.

What strings?

Row.

Their modesties, Faiths, Vows, and Maidenheads, for they are like Kits They have but four strings to 'em.

Tra.

What wilt thou Give me for ten pound now, when thou next lovest, And the same woman still?

Row.

Give me the money; A hundred, and my Bond for't.

Tra.

But pray hear me, I'll work all means I can to reconcile ye:

Row.

Do, do, Give me the money;

Tra.

There.

Row.

Work Tranio.

Tra.

You shall go sometimes where she is.

Row.

Yes straight. This is the first good I e'er got by woman.

Tra.

You would think it strange now, if another beauty As good as hers, say better.

Row.

Well.

Tra.

Conceive me, This is no point o'th' wager.

Row.

That's all one,

Tra.

Love you as much, or more, than now she hates you.

Row.

'tis a good hearing, let 'em love: ten pound more I never love that woman.

Tra.

There it is; And so an hundred, if you lose.

Row.

'Tis done; Have you another to put in?

Tra.

No, no Sir.

Row.

I am very sorry: now will I erect A new game, and go hate for th' bell; I am sure I am in excellent case to win.

Tra.

I must have leave. To tell you, and tell truth too, what she is, And how she suffers for you.

Row.

Ten pound more, I never believe you.

Tra.

No Sir, I am stinted.

Row.

Well, take your best way then.

Tra.

Let's walk, I am glad Your sullen Feavor's off.

Row.

Shalt see me Tranio A monstrous merry man now: let's to the Wedding, And as we go, tell me the general hurry Of these mad wenches and their works.

Tra.

I will.

Row.

And do thy worst.

Tra.

Something I'll do.

Exeu••

Row.

Do Tranio.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Pedro, and Jaques.

Ped.

A pair of Stocks bestride 'em; Are they gone?

Jac.

Yes they are gone; and a••l the pans i'th Town Beating before 'em: What strange admonitions They gave my Master, and how fearfully They threaten'd, if he broke 'em?

Ped.

O' my Conscience H'as found his full match now.

Jaq.

That I believe too.

Ped.

How did she entertain him?

Jaq.

She lookt on him.

Ped.

But scurvely.

Jaq.

With no great affection That I saw: and I heard some say he kiss'd her, But 'twas upon a treaty, and some copies Say, but her Cheek.

Ped.

Jaques, What wouldst thou give For such a Wife now?

Jaq.

Full as many Payers As the most zealous Puritane conceives Out of the meditation of fat Veal, Or Birds of prey, cram'd Capons, against Players, And t•• as good a tune too, but against her: That heaven would bless me from her: mark it Pedro, If this house be not turn'd within this fortnight With the foundation upward, I'll be carted. My comfort is yet, that those Amorites, That came to back her cause, those Heathen Whores, Had their Hoods hallowed with Sack.

Ped.

How Div'lish drunk they were?

Jac.

And how they tumbled, Pedro, Didst thou marke The Countrey Cavaliero?

Ped.

Out upon her, How she turn'd down the Bragget?

Jaq.

I that sunk her.

Ped.

That Drink was well put to her; What a Somer salt When the chair fel, she fetch'd, with her heels upward?

Jaq.

And what a piece of Landskip she discover'd?

Ped.

Didst mark her, when her hood fell in the Posset?

Jaq.

Yes, and there rid, like a Dutch-Hoy; the Tumbrel, When she had got her ballasse.

Ped.

That I saw too.

Jaq.

How fain she would have drawn on Sophocles To come aboard, and how she simper'd it—

Ped.

I warrant her, she has been a worthy striker.

Jaq.

I'th heat of Summer there had been some hope on't.

Ped.

Hang her.

Jac.

She offer'd him a Harry-groat, and belcht out, Her stomach being blown with Ale, such Courtship, Upon my life has giv'n him twenty stools since: Believe my Calculation, these old Women, When they are tippled, and a little heated, Are like new wheels, they'l roare you all the Town ore Till they be greas'd.

Ped.

The City Cinque-a-pace Dame Tost and Butter, had the Bob too?

Jaq.

Yes, But she was sullen drunk, and given to filching, I see her offer at a Spoon; my Master — I do not like his look, I fear h'as fasted For all this preparation; lets steal by him.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Petruchio, and Sophocles.

Soph.

Not let you touch her all this night?

Petru.

Not touch her.

Soph.

Where was your courage?

Petru.

Where was her obedience? Never poor Man was sham'd so; never Rascal That keeps a stud of Whores was us'd so basely.

Soph.

Pray you tell me one thing truly; Do you love her?

Petru.

I would I did not, upon that condition I past thee half my Land.

Soph.

It may be then, Her modesty requir'd a little violence? Some Women love to struggle.

Petru.

She had it, And so much that I sweat for't, so I did, But to no end: I washt an Ethiope She swore my force might weary her, but win her •• never could, nor should, ti••l she consented; And I might take her body prisoner, But for her mind or appetite—

Soph.

'Tis strange; This woman is the first I ever read of, Re••us'd a warranted occasion, And ••••anding on so fair termes.

Petru.

I shall quit her.

S••ph.

Us'd you no more art?

Petru.

Yes, I swore to her, And by no little ones, if presently Wi••hout more disputation on the matter, She gr••w not nearer to me, and dispatcht me Out of the pains I was, for I was nettl'd, And willingly, and eagerly, and sweetly, I would to her Chamber-maid, and in her hearing Begin her such a hunte••-up.

Soph.

Then she started?

Petru.

No more than I do now; marry she answered If I were so dispo••'d, she could not help it; But there was one call'd Jaques, a poor Butler One that might well content a single woman.

Soph.

And he should tilt her.

Petru.

To that sence, and last She bad me yet these six nights look for nothing, Nor strive to purchase it, but fair good night, And so good morrow, and a kiss or two To close my stomach, for her vow had seal'd it, And she would keep it constant.

Soph.

Stay ye, stay ye, Was she thus when you woo'd her?

Petru.

Nothing Sophocles, More keenely eager, I was oft afraid She had been light, and easie, she would showre Her kisses so upon me.

Soph.

Then I fear An other spoke's i'th wheele.

Petru.

Now thou hast found me, There gnawes my Devil, Sopho••les, O patience Preserve me; that I make her not example By some unworthy way; as fleaing her, Boyling, or making verjuice, drying her.

Soph.

I hear her.

Petru.

Mark her then, and see the heir Of spight and prodigality, she has studied A way to begger's both, and by this hand

Maria at the dore, and Servant and Woman

She shall be, if I live, a Doxy.

Soph.

Fy Sir.

Mar.

I do not like that dressing, tis too poor, Let me have six gold laces, broad and massy, And betwixt ev'ry lace a rich Embroydry, Line the Gown through with Plush perfum'd, and purffle All the sleeves down with Pearl.

Petru.

What think you Sophocles. In what point stands my state now?

Mar.

For those hangings.

Let'em be carried where I gave appointment, They are too base for my use, and bespeak New Pieces of the Civil Wars of France, Let 'em be large and lively, and all silk work, The borders Gold.

Soph.

I marry sir, this cuts it.

Mar.

That fourteen yards of Satten give my Woman, I do not like the colour, 'tis too civil: Ther's too much Silk i'th lace too; tell the Dutchman Tha•• brought the Mares, he must with all speed send me An other suit of Horses, and by all means Ten cast of Hawkes for th'River, I much care not What price they bear, so they be sound, and flying, For the next Winter, I am for the Country; And mean to take my pleasure; where's the Horseman?

Petru.

She means to ride a great Horse.

Soph.

With a side sadle?

Petru.

Yes, and shee'l run a tilt within this twelve-month

Mar.

To morrow I'll begin to learn, but pray sir Have a great care he be an easie doer, 'Twill spoil a Scholar else.

Soph.

An easie doer, Did you hear that?

Petru.

Yes, I shall meet her morals Ere it be long I fear not.

Mar.

O good morrow.

Soph.

Good morrow Lady, how is't now.

Mar.

Faith sickly, This house stands in an ill ayr.

Petru.

Yet more charges?

Mar.

Subject to rots, and rheums; out on't, 'tis nothing But a tild fog.

Petru.

What think you of the Lodge then?

Mar.

I like the seat, but 'tis too little, Sophocles Let me have thy opinion, thou hast judgment.

Petru.

'Tis very well.

Mar.

What if I pluck it down, And build a square upon it, with two courts Still rising from the entrance?

Petru.

And i'th midst A Colled••e for young Scolds.

Mar.

And to the Southward Ta••e in a Garden of some twenty Acres, And cast it of the Italian fashion, hanging.

Petru.

And you could cast your self so too; pray Lady Will not this cost much Money?

Mar.

Some five thousand, Say six: I'll have it Battel'd too.

Petru.

And gilt; Maria, This is a fearful course you take, pray think on't, You are a Woman now, a Wife, and his That must in honesty, and justice look for Some due obedience from you.

Mar.

That bare word Shall cost you many a pound more, build upon't; Tell me of due obedience? VVhat's a Husband? VVhat are we mar i••d for, to carry Sumpters? Are we not one peece with you, and as worthy Our own intentions, as you yours?

Petru.

Pray hear me.

Mar.

Take two small drops of water, equal weigh'd, Tell me which is the heaviest, and which ought First to descend in duty?

Petru.

You mistake me; I urge not service from you, nor obedience In way of duty, but of love, and Credit; All I expect is but a noble care Of what I have brought you, and of what I am, And what our name may be.

Mar.

That's in my making.

Petru.

'Tis true it is so.

Mar.

Yes, it is Petruchio, For there was never Man without our molding, VVithout our stamp upon him, and our justice, Left any thing three ages after him Good, and his own.

Soph.

Good Lady understand him.

Mar.

I do too much, sweet Sophocles, he's one Of a most spightful self condition, Never at peace with any thing but Age, That has no teeth left to return his anger: A Bravery dwells in his blood yet, of abusing His first good wife; he's sooner fire than powder, And sooner mischief.

Petru.

If I be so sodain Do not you fear me?

Mar.

No nor yet care for you, And if it may be lawful, I defie you:

Petru.

Do's this become you now?

Mar.

It shall become me.

Petru.

Thou disobedient, weak, vain-glorious woman, Were I but half so wilful, as thou spightful, I should now drag thee to thy duty.

Mar.

Drag me?

Petru.

But I am friends again: take all your pleasure.

Mar.

Now you perceive him Sophocles.

Petru.

I love thee Above thy vanity, thou faithless creature.

Mar.

Would I had been so happy when I Married, But to have met an honest Man like thee, For I am sure thou art good, I know thou art honest, A hansome hurtless man, a loving man, Though never a penny with him; and those eyes, That face, and that true heart; weare this for my sake, And when thou think'st upon me pity me: I am cast away,

Exit Mar.

Soph.

VVhy how now man?

Petru.

Pray leave me, And follow your advices.

Soph.

The Man's jealous:

Petru.

I shall find a time ere it be long, to ask you One or two foolish questions.

Soph.

I shall answer As well as I am able, when you call me: If she mean true, tis but a little killing, And if I do not venture it's— Farewel sir.

Exit Soph.

Petru.

Pray farewel. Is there no keeping A VVife to one mans use? no wintering These cattel without straying? 'Tis hard dealing, Very hard dealing, Gentlemen, strange dealing: Now in the name of madness, what Star raign'd, VVhat dog-star, bull, or bear-star, when I married This second wife, this whirlwind, that takes all VVithin her compass? was I not well warn'd, (I thought I had, and I believe I know it,) And beaten to repentance in the dayes Of my first doting? had I not wife enough To turn my love to? did I want vexation, Or any special care to kill my heart? Had I not ev'ry morning a rare breakfast, Mixt with a learned Lecture of ill language, Louder than Tom o'Lincoln; and at dinner, A dyet of the same dish? was there evening That ere past over us, without thou Knave, Or thou VVhore for digestion? had I ever A pull at this same poor sport men run mad for But like a Cur I was fain to shew my teeth first, And almost worry her? and did Heaven forgive me, And take this Serpent from me? and am I Keeping tame Devils now again? my heart akcs; Something I must do speedily: I'll die, ••f I can hansomely, for that's the way To make a Rascal of her; I am sick, And I'll goe very near it, but I'll perish.

Exit.

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 poor 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 your gew-gaws, Four 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'll give me leave, I'll wear the hair still; I would yet remember you.

Bya.

Give him his love wench; The young Man has imployment for't:

Tra.

Fie Rowland.

Row.

You cannot fie me out a hundred pound With this poor plot: yet, let me ne'r see day more, If something do not struggle strangely in me.

Bya.

Young Man, let me talk with you.

Row.

Well, young Woman.

Bya.

This was your Mistriss once.

Row.

Yes.

Bya.

Are ye honest? I see you are young, and hansome.

Row.

I am honest.

Bya.

Why that's well 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 do 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 dearly; And I had lov'd you so: you may love worse Sir, But that is not material.

Row.

I shall loose.

Bya.

Some time or other for variety I should have call'd you Fool, or Boy, or bid you ••ay with the Pages: but have lov'd you still, 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.

I'll 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, I'll leave you to your commendations: I am in again, The Divel take their tongues.

Bya.

You shall not goe.

Row.

I will: 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 kiss of you; One parting kiss, and I am gone too.

Row.

Come, I shall kiss fifty pound away at this clap: We'll have one more, and then farewel.

Liv.

Farewel.

Bya.

Well, go thy wayes, thou bear'st a kind heart with thee.

Tra.

H'as made a stand.

Bya.

A noble, brave young fellow Worthy a Wench indeed.

Row.

I will: I will 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.

I'll pay the forfeit.

Bya.

Come then, let's 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.

Scaena Quinta.

Enter Jaques and Pedro.

Ped.

O Jaques, Jaques, What becomes of us? Oh my sweet Master.

Jaq.

Run for a Physitian, And a whole peck of Pothecaries, Pedro. He will die, didle, didle die: if they come not quickly, And bring all People that are skilful In Lungs and Livers: raise the neighbours, And all the Aquavite-bottles extant; And, O the Parson, Pedro; O the Parson, A little of his comfort, never so little; Twenty to one you find him at the Bush, There's the best Ale.

Ped.

I fly.

Exit Pedro.

Enter Maria, and Servants.

Mar.

Out with the Trunks, ho: Why are you idle? Sirha, up to th' Chamber, And take the Hangings down, and see the Linnen Packt up, and sent away within this half hour. What, Are the Carts come yet? some honest body Help down the Chests of Plate, and some the Wardrobe, Alass, we are undone else.

Jaq.

Pray forsooth; And I beseech ye, tell me, is he dead yet?

Mar.

No, but is drawing on: out with the Armour.

Jaq.

Then I'll go see him.

Mar.

Thou art undone then Fellow: no Man that has Been neer him come near me.

Enter Sophocles, and Petronius.

Soph.

Why how now Lady, What means this?

Petron.

Now daughter, How does my Son?

Mar.

Save all you can for Heavens sake.

Enter Livia, Byancha, and Tranio.

Liv.

Be of good comfort, Sister.

Mar.

O my Casket.

Petron.

How do's thy Husband Woman?

Mar.

Get you gon, if you mean to save your lives: the Sickness.

Petron.

Stand further off, I prethee.

Mar.

Is i'th house Sir, My Husband has it now; Alas he is infected, and raves extreamly: Give me some Counsel friends.

Bya.

Why lock the doors up, And send him in a Woman to attend him.

Mar.

I have bespoke two Women; and the City Hath sent a Watch by this time: Meat nor Money He shall not want, nor Prayers.

Petron.

How long is't Since it first took him?

Mar.

But within this three hours.

Enter Watch.

I am frighted from my wits: — O here's the Watch; Pray doe your Office, lock the doors up Friends, And patience be his Angel.

Tra.

This comes unlook'd for:

Mar.

I'll to the lodge; some that are kind and love me, I know will visit me.

Petruchio within.

Petru.

Doe you hear my Masters: ho, you that lock the doors up.

Petron.

'Tis his voice.

Tra.

Hold, and let's hear him.

Petru.

Will ye starve me here: am I a Traytor, or an Heretick. Or am I grown infectious?

Petron.

Pray sir, pray.

Petru.

I am as well as you are, goodman puppy.

Mar.

Pray have patience. You shall want nothing Sir.

Petru.

I want a cudgel, And thee, thou wickedness.

Petron.

He speaks well enough.

Mar.

'Had ever a strong heart Sir.

Petru.

Will ye hear me? First be pleas'd To think I know ye all, and can distinguish Ev'ry Mans several voice: you that spoke first, I know my father in law; the other Tranio, And I heard Sophocles; the last, pray mark me, ••s my dam'd Wife Maria: If any Man misdoubt me for infected, There is mine Arme, let any Man look on't.

Enter Doctor and Pothecary.

Doct.

Save ye Gentlemen.

Petron.

O welcome Doctor, Ye come in happy time; pray your opinion, What think you of his pulse?

Doct.

It beats with busiest, And shews a general inflammation. Which is the symptome of a pestilent Feaver, Take twenty ounces from him.

Petru.

Take a Fool; Take an ounce from mine arme, and Doctor Deuz-ace, I'll make a close-stoole of your Velvet Costard. —Gentlemen, doe ye make a may-game on me? I tell ye once again, I am as sound, As well, as wholsome, and as sensible, As any of ye all: Let me out quickly, Or as I am a Man, I'll beat the walls down, And the first thing I light upon shall pay for't.

Exit Doctor and Pothecary.

Petro.

Nay, we'll go with you Doctor.

Mar.

'Tis the safest; I saw the Tokens Sir.

Petro.

Then there is but one way.

Petru.

Will it please you open?

Tra.

His fit grows stronger still.

Mar.

Let's save our selves Sir, He's past all worldly cure.

Petro.

Friends do your office. And what he wants, if Money, Love, or Labor, Or any way may win it, let him have it. Farewell, and pray my honest Friends—

Exeunt.

Petru.

Why Rascals, Friends, Gentlemen, thou beastly Wife, Jaques; None hear me? Who at the door there?

1 Watch.

Think I pray Sir, Whether you are going, and prepare your self.

2 Watch.

These idle thoughts disturb you, the good Gentlewoman Your Wife has taken care you shall want nothing.

Petru.

Shall I come out in quiet? answer me, Or shall I charge a Fowling-Piece, and make Mine own way; two of ye I cannot miss, If I miss three; ye come here to assault me. I am as excellent well, I thank Heaven for't, And have as good a stomach at this instant—

2 Watch.

That's an ill sign.

1 Watch.

He draws on; he's a dead Man.

Petru.

And sleep as soundly; Will ye look upon me?

1 Watch.

Do you want Pen and Ink? while you have sense sir, Settle your state.

Petru.

Sirs, I am well, as you are; Or any Rascal living.

2 Watch.

Would you were Sir.

Petru.

Look to your selves, and if you love your lives, Open the door, and fly me, for I shoot else; —I'll shoot, and presently, chain-bullets; And under four I will not kill.

1 Watch.

Let's quit him, It may be it is a trick: he's dangerous.

2 Watch.

The Devil take the hinmost, I cry.

Exit Watch running.

Enter Petruchio with a Piece.

Petru.

Have among ye; The door shall open too, I'll have a fair shoot; Are ye all gone? tricks in my old dayes, crackers Put now upon me? and, by Lady Green-sleeves? Am I grown so tame after all my triumphs? But that I should be thought mad, if I rail'd, As much as they deserve, against these Women, I would now rip up, from the primitive Cuckold, All their arch-villanies, and all their doubles, Which are more than a hunted Hare ere thought on: When a Man has the fairest, and the sweetest Of all their Sex, and as he thinks the noblest, What has he then? and I'll speak modestly, He has a Quartern-ague, that shall shake All his estate to nothing; never cur'd, Nor never dying; He'as a ship to venture His fame, and credit in, which if he Man not With more continual labour than a Gally To make her tith, either she grows a Tumbrel, Not worth the Cloth she wears; or springs more leakes Than all the fame of his posterity Can ever stop again: I could raile twenty dayes; Out on 'em, Hedge-hogs, He that shall touch 'em, has a thousand thorns Runs through his fingers: If I were unmarried, I would do any thing below repentance, Any base dunghill slavery; be a Hang-man, Ere I would be a Husband: O the thousand, Thousand, ten thousand wayes they have to kill us! Some fall with two much stringing of the Fiddles, And those are fools; some, that they are not suffer'd, And those are Maudlin-lovers: some, like Scorpions, They poyson with their tails, and those are Martyrs; Some dye with doing good, those Benefactors, And leave 'em land to leap away: some few, For those are rarest, they are said to kill With kindness, and fair usage; but what they are My Catalogue discovers not: only 'tis thought They are buried in old Walls, with their heels upward. I could raile twenty dayes together now. I'll seek 'em out, and if I have not reason, And very sensible, why this was done, I'll go a birding yet, and some shall smart for't.

Exit

Actus Quartus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Moroso and Petronius.

Mor.

That I do love her, is without all question, And most extremely, dearly, most exactly; And that I would ev'n now, this present Monday, Before all others, Maids, Wives, Women, Widows, Of what degree, or calling, Marry her, As certain too; but to be made a Whim-wham, A Jib-crack, and a Gentleman o'th first house For all my kindness to her.

Petron.

How you take it? Thou get a Wench, thou get a dozen night-caps? Wouldst have her come, and lick thee like a Calfe, And blow thy nose, and buss thee?

Mor.

Not so neither.

Petron.

What wouldst thou have her do?

Mor.

Do as she would do; Put on a clean Smock, and to Church, and Marry, And then to Bed a Gods name, this is fair play, And keeps the Kings peace; let her leave her bobs, I have had too many of them, and her quillets, She is as nimble that way as an Eeel; But in the way she ought to me especially, A sow of Lead is swifter.

Petron.

Quoat your griefs down.

Mor.

Give fair quarter, I am old and crasie, And subject to much fumbling, I confess it; Yet something I would have that's warme, to hatch me: But understand me I would have it so, ••••••y not more repentance in the bargain Than the ware's worth I have; if you allow me Worthy your Son-in-Law, and your allowance, Do it a way of credit; let me show so, And not be troubled in my visitations, With blows, and bitterness, and down-right railings, As if we were to couple like two Cats, With clawing, and loud clamour:

Petron.

Thou fond Man. ••ast thou forgot the Ballad, crabbed age, Can May and January match together, And nev'r a storm between 'em? say she abuse thee, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 case she doe.

Mor.

Well.

Petron.

Nay, believe she do's.

Mor.

I do believe she do's.

Petron.

And div'lishly: Art thou a whit the worse?

Mor.

That's not the matter, I know, being old, tis fit I am abus'd; I know 'tis hansome, and I know moreover I am to love her for't.

Petron.

Now you come to me.

Mor.

Nay more than this; I find too, and find certain, What Gold I have, Pearle, Bracelets, Rings, or Owches, Or what she can desire, Gowns, Petticotes, Wastcotes, Enbroydered-stockings, Scarffs, Cals, Feathers, 〈◊〉〈◊〉, five pound Garters, Muffs, Masks, Ruffs, and Ribands, I am to give her for't.

Petron.

'Tis right, you are so.

Mor.

But when I have done all this, and think it duty, ••'t requisit an other bore my nostrils? ••iddle me that.

Petron.

Go get you gone, and dreame ••t's thine within these two dayes, for she is so; The Boy's beside the saddle: get warm broths, And feed a pace; think not of worldly business, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 cools the blood; leave off your tricks, they are hateful, And meere fore-runners of the ancient measures; Contrive your beard o'th top cut like Verdugoes: It shows you would be wise, and burn your night-cap, It looks like half a winding-sheet, and urges From a young Wench nothing but cold repentance: You may eate Onyons, so you'l not be lavish.

Mor.

I am glad of that.

Petron.

They purge the blood, and quicken, But after 'em, conceive me, sweep your mouth, And where there wants a tooth, stick in a clove.

Mor.

Shall I hope once again, say't.

Petro.

You shall Sir: And you shall have your hope.

Moro.

Why there's a match then.

Enter Byancha and Tranio.

Byan.

You shall not find me wanting, get you gone. Here's the old Man, he'l think you are plotting else Something against his new Son.

Exit Tranio.

Moro.

Fare ye well Sir.

Exit Moroso.

Byan.

And ev'ry Buck had his Doe, And ev'ry Cuckold a Bell at his Toe: Oh what sport should we have then, then Boyes then, Oh what sport should we have then?

Petro.

This is the spirit, that inspires 'em all.

By.

Give you good ev'n.

Petro.

A word with you Sweet Lady.

By.

I am very hasty, Sir.

Petro.

So you were ever.

By.

Well, What's your will?

Petro.

Was not your skilful hand In this last stratagem? Were not your mischiefs Eeking the matter on?

By.

In's shutting up? Is that it?

Petro.

Yes.

By.

I'll tell you.

Petro.

Doe.

By.

And truly. Good old Man, I do grieve exceeding much, I fear too much.

Petro.

I am sorry for your heaviness. Belike you can repent then?

By.

There you are wide too. Not that the thing was done (conceive me rightly) Do's any way molest me.

Petro.

What then Lady?

By.

But that I was not in't, there's my sorrow, there Now you understand me, for I'll tell you, It was so sound a piece, and so well carried, And if you mark the way, so hansomely, Of such a heighth, and excellence, and art I have not known a bravery; for conceive me, When the gross fool her Husband would be sick—

Petro.

Pray stay.

By.

Nay, good, your patience: and no sence for't, Then stept your daughter in.

Petro.

By your appointment.

By.

I would it had, on that condition I had but one half smock, I like it so well; And like an excellent cunning Woman, cur'd me One madness with another, which was rare, And to our weak beliefs, a wonder.

Petro.

Hang ye, For surely, if your husband look not to ye, I know what will.

By.

I humbly thank your worship. And so I take my leave.

Petro.

You have a hand I hear too.

By.

I have two Sir.

Petro.

In my young daughters business.

By.

You will find there

A fitter hand than mine, to reach her frets, And play down diddle to her.

Petro.

I shall watch ye.

By.

Do.

Petro.

And I shall have Justice.

By.

Where?

Petro.

That's all one; I shall be with you at a turne hence forward.

By.

Get you a Posset too; and so good ev'n Sir.

Exeunt.

Enter Petruchio, Jaques, and Pedro.

Jaq.

And as I told your worship, all the hangings, Brass, Pewter, Plate, ev'n to the very looking-glasses.

Ped.

And that that hung for our defence, the Armor, And the March Beere was going too: Oh Jaques What a sad sight was that?

Jaq.

Even the two Rundlets, The two that was our hope, of Muskadel, (Better nev'r tongue tript over) those two Cannons, To batter brawn withal at Christmass, Sir, Ev'n those two lovely Twyns, the Enemy Had almost cut off clean.

Petru.

Goe trim the House up. And put the things in order as they were.

Ex. Ped. and Jaq.

I shall find time for all this: could I find her But constant any way, I had done my business; Were she a Whore directly, or a Scold, An unthrift, or a Woman made to hate me, I had my wish, and knew which way to rayne her: But while she shews all these, and all their losses, A kind of linsey woolsey, mingled mischief Not to be ghest at, and whether true, or borrowed,

Enter Maria.

Not certain neither, What a hap had I, And what a tydie fortune, when my fate Flung me upon this Bear-whelp? here she comes, Now, if she have a colour, for the fault is A cleanly one, upon my Conscience I shall forgive her yet, and find a something Certain, I Married for: her wit: I'll marke her.

Mar.

Not let his Wife come near him in his sickness? Not come to comfort him? she that all Laws Of heaven, and Nations have ordain'd his second, Is she refus'd? and two old Paradoxes, Pieces of five and fifty, without faith Clapt in upon him? h'as a little pet, That all young Wives must follow necessary, Having their Maiden-heads—

Petru.

This is an Axiome I never heard before.

Mar

Or say Rebellion, If we durst be so foul, which two fair words Alas win us from, in an hour, an instant, We are so easie, make him so forgetful Both of his reason, honesty, and credit, As to deny his Wife a visitation? His Wife, that (though she was a little foolish,) Lov'd him, Oh Heaven forgive her for't! nay doted, Nay had run mad, had she not married him.

Petru.

Though I do know this falser than the Devil, I cannot choose but love it.

Mar.

What do I know But those that came to keep him, might have kill'd him, In what a case had I been then? I dare not Believe him such a base, debosh'd companion, That one refusal of a tender Maid. Would make him faign this Sickness out of need, And take a Keeper to him of Fourscore To play at Billiards; one that mew'd content And all her teeth together; not come near him?

Petru.

This Woman would have made a most rare Jesuite She can prevaricate on any thing: There was not to be thought a way to save her In all imagination, beside this.

Mar.

His unkind dealing, which was worst of all, In sending, who knowes whether, all the plate, And all the houshold-stuffe, had I not crost it, By a great providence, and my friends assistance Which he will thank me one day for: alas, I could have watch'd as well as they, have serv'd him In any use, better, and willinger. The Law commands me to do it, love commands me, And my own duty charges me.

Petru.

Heav'n bless me. And now I have said my Prayers, I'll go to her: Are you a Wife for any Man?

Mar.

For you Sir. If I were worse, I were better; That you are well, At least, that you appear so, I thank Heaven, Long may it hold, and that you are here, I am glad too; But that you have abus'd me wretchedly, And such a way that shames the name of Husband, Such a malicious mangy way, so mingled, (Never look strangely on me, I dare tell you) With breach of honesty, care, kindness, manners.

Petru.

Holla, you kick too fast.

Mar.

Was I a stranger? Or had I vow'd perdition to your person? Am I not Married to you, tell me that?

Petru.

I would I could not tell you.

Mar.

Is my presence, The stock I come of, which is worshipful, If I should say Right worshipful, I ly'd not, My Grandsire was a Knight.

Petru.

O'the Shire?

Mar.

A Soldier, Which none of all thy Family e're heard of, But one conductor of thy name, a Grasier That ran away with pay: or am I grown Because I have been a little peevish to you, Onely to try your temper) such a dogge-leech I could not be admitted to your presence?

Petru.

If I endure this, hang me.

Mar.

And two deaths heads, Two Harry Groats, that had their faces worn, Almost their names away too.

Petru.

Now hear me. For I will stay no longer.

Mar.

This you shall: How ever you shall think to flatter me, For this offence, which no submission Can ever mediate for, you'l find it so, What ever you shall do by intercession, What you can offer, what your Land can purchase, What all your friends, or families can win, Shall be but this, not to forswear your knowledge, But ever to forbear it: now your will Sir.

Petru.

Thou art the subtlest Woman I think living, I am sure the lewdest; now be still, and mark me; Were I but any way addided to the Devil, I should now think I had met a play-fellow To profit by, and that way the most learned That ever taught to murmur. Tell me thou, Thou most poor, paltry spiteful Whore: Do you cry? I'll make you roare, before I leave.

Mar.

Your pleasure.

Petru.

Was it not sin enough, thou Fruiterer, Full of the fall thou eat'st: thou Devils Broker, Thou Seminary of all sedition, Thou Sword of veng'ance, with a thred hung o're us, Was it not sin enough, and wickedness In full abundance? Was it not vexation At all points, cap a pe? nay, I shall pinch you,

Thus like a rotten Rascal to abuse The name of Heaven, the tye of Marriage, The honour of thy Friends; the expectation Of all that thought thee virtuous, with Rebellion, Childish and base Rebellion, but continuing After forgiveness too, and worse, your mischief, And against him; setting the hope of Heaven by, And the dear reservation of his honor Nothing above ground could have won to hate thee: Well, goe thy wayes.

Mar.

Yes.

Petru.

You shall hear me out first: What punishment may'st thou deserve, thou thing, Thou Idle thing of nothing, thou pull'd Primrose, That two hours after, art a Weed, and wither'd, For this last flourish on me? am I one Selected out of all the Husbands living, To be so ridden by a Tit of ten pence, Am I so blind and Bed-rid? I was mad, And had the Plague, and no Man must come near me, I must be shut up, and my substance bezel'd, And an old Woman watch me.

Mar.

Well Sir, well, You may well glory in't.

Petru.

And when it comes to opening, 'tis my plot, I must undoe my self forsooth: do'st hear me? If I should beat thee now, as much may be, Do'st thou not well deserve it, o' thy Conscience, Do'st thou not cry, come beat me?

Mar.

I defie you. And my last loving tears farewell: the first stroke, The very first you give me, if you dare strike, Try me, and you shall find it so, for ever, Never to be recall'd: I know you love me, Mad till you have enjoy'd me; I do turne Utterly from you, and what Man I meet first That has but spirit to deserve a favour, Let him bear any shape, the worse the better. ••all kill you, and enjoy me; what I have said About your foolish sickness, e're you have me As you would have me, you shall swear, is certain, And challenge any Man, that dares deny it; And in all companies approve my actions, And so farewell for this time.

Ex. Mar.

Petru.

Grief goe with thee, If there be any witchcrafts, herbes, or potions, Saying my Prayers backward, Fiends, or Fayries That can again unlove me, I am made.

Exit.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Byancha, and Tranio.

Tra.

Mistress, you must do it.

By.

Are the Writings ready I told you of?

Tra.

Yes they are ready, but to what use I know not.

By.

Y'are an Ass, you must have all things constru'd,

Tra.

Yes, and pierc'd too, Or I find little pleasure.

By.

Now you are knavish, Goe too, fetch Rowland hither presently, Your Twenty pounds lies bleeding else: she is married Within these twelve hours, if we cross it not, And see the Papers of one size.

Tra.

I have ye.

By.

And for disposing of 'em.

Tra.

If I fail you Now I have found the way, use Marshal Law And cut my head off with a hand Saw:

By.

Well Sir. Petronius and Moroso I'll see sent for, About your business; goe.

Tra.

I am gone.

Ex. Tra.

Enter Livia.

By.

Ho Livia.

Liv.

Who's that?

By.

A friend of yours, Lord how you look now, As if you had lost a Carrack.

Liv.

O Byancha. I am the most undone, unhappy Woman.

By.

Be quiet Wench, thou shalt be done, and done, And done, and double done, or all shall split for't, No more of these minc'd passions, they are mangy, And ease thee of nothing, but a little Wind, An Apple will do more: thou fear'st Moroso.

Liv.

Even as I fear the Gallowes.

By.

Keep thee there still. And you love Rowland? say.

Liv.

If I say not, I am sure I lye.

By.

What wouldst thou give that Woman, In spight of all his anger, and thy fear, And all thy Fathers policy, that could Clap ye within these two nights quietly Into a Bed together?

Liv.

How?

By.

Why fairly, At half sword man and wise: now the red blood comes, I marry now the matters chang'd.

Liv.

Byancha, Methinks you should not mock me.

By.

Mock a pudding. I speak good honest English, and good meaning.

Liv.

I should not be ungrateful to that Woman.

By.

I know thou would'st not, follow but my Councel, And if thou hast him not, despite of fortune Let me nev'r know a good night more; you must Be very sick o'th instant.

Liv.

Well, what follows?

By.

And in that sickness send for all your friends, Your Father, and your feaver old Moroso, And Rowland shall be there too.

Liv.

What of these?

By.

Do you not twitter yet? of this shall follow That which shall make thy heart leap, and thy lips Venture as many kisses, as the Merchants Doe Dollars to the East-Indies: you shall know all, But first walke in, and practise, pray be sick.

Liv.

I do believe you: and I am sick.

By.

Doe, To bed then, come, I'll send away your Servants Post for your Fool, and Father; and good fortune, As we meane honesty, now strike an up-shot.

Exunt

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Tranio, and Rowland.

Tra.

Nay, on my conscience, I have lost my Money, But that's all one: I'll never more perswade you, I see you are resolute, and I commend you.

Row.

But did she send for me?

Tra.

You dare believe me.

Row.

I cannot tell, you have your wayes for profit Allow'd you Tranio, as well as I Have to avoid 'em.

Tra.

No, on my word, Sir, I deale directly with you.

Enter Servant.

Row.

How now fellow, Whither Post you so fast?

Ser.

O sir my Master, Pray did you see my Master?

Row.

Why your Master?

Ser.

Sir his Jewel.

Row.

With the gilded Button?

Serv.

My pretty Mistress Livia.

Row.

What of her?

Serv.

Is falen sick o'th suddain.

Row.

How o'th sullens?

Ser.

O'th suddain Sir, I say, very sick:

Row.

It seems she hath got the toothach with raw Apples.

Ser.

It seemes you have got the headach, fare you well Sir. You did not see my Master?

Row.

Who told you so.

Tra.

No, no, he did not see him.

Row.

Farewell Blew-bottle.

Ex. Servant.

What should her sickness be?

Tra.

For you it may be.

Row.

Yes, when my braines are out, I may believe it, Never before I am sure: Yet I may see her; 'Twill be a point of honesty:

Tra.

It will so.

Row.

It may be not too: you would fain be fing'ring This old sin-offring of two hundred, Tranio, How daintily, and cunningly you drive me Up like a Deer to'th toyle, yet I may leap it, And what's the Woodman then?

Tra.

A loser by you. Speak, Will you go or not? to me 'tis equal.

Row.

Come, What goes less?

Tra.

Nay, not a penny Rowland.

Row.

Shall I have liberty of conscience, Which, by interpretation, is ten kisses? Hang me if I affect her: yet it may be, This whorson manners will require a strugling, Of two and twenty, or by'r-Lady thirty.

Tra.

By'r-Lady I'll require my wager then, For if you kiss so often, and no kindness, I have lost my speculation, I'll allow you—

Row.

Speak like a Gamster now.

Tra.

It may be two.

Row.

Under a dozen Tranio, there's no setting, You shall have forty shillings, winck at small faults. Say I take twenty, come, by all that's honest I do it but to vex her.

Tra.

I'll no by-blowes. If you can love her, doe, if you can, hate her, Or any else that loves you —

Row.

Prethee Tranio.

Tra.

Why farewell twenty pound, 'twill not undoe me; You have my resolution.

Row.

And your Money, Which since you are so stubborn, if I forfeit, Make me a Jack o' Lent, and break my shins For untag'd Points and Compters: I'll goe with you, But if thou gett'st a penny by the bargain; A parting kiss is lawful?

Tra.

I allow it.

Row.

Knock out my brains with Apples; yet a bargain:

Tra.

I tell you, I'll no bargains; win, and wear it.

Row.

Thou art the strangest fellow.

Tra.

That's all one.

Row.

Along then, twenty pound more if thou dar'st, I give her not a good word.

Tra.

Not a Penny.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Petruchio, Jaques, and Pedro.

Petru.

Prethee, entreat her come, I will not trouble her Above a word or two; ere I endure

Exit Pedro.

This life, and with a Woman, and a vow'd one To all the mischiefs she can lay upon me, I'll go to Plough, and eate Leeke Porridge; Begging's a pleasure to't, not to be number'd: No there be other Countries Jaques for me, and other people, yea, and other women. If I have need, here's Money, there's your ware, Which is faire dealing, and the Sun, they say. Shines as warme there, as here, and till I have lost Either my self, or her, I care not whether Nor which first.

Jaq.

Will your worship hear me?

Petru.

And utterly outworne the memory Of such a curse as this, none of my Nation Shall ever know me more.

Jaq.

Out alas Sir. What a strange way doe you run?

Petru.

Any way, So I out-run this Rascal.

Jaq.

Me thinks now, If your good worship could but have the patience.

Petru.

The patience, why the patience?

Jaq.

Why I'll tell you, Could you but have the patience.

Petru.

Well the patience.

Jaq.

To laugh at all she do's, or when she railes, To have a Drum beaten o'th top o'th house, To give the neighbors warning of her Larme, As I do when my Wife rebels.

Petru.

Thy Wife? Thy Wife's a Pigeon to her, a meere slumber, The dead of night's not stiller.

Jaq.

Nor an Iron Mill.

Petru.

But thy Wife is certain.

Jaq.

That's false Doctrine, You never read of a certain Woman.

Petru.

Thou know'st her way.

Jaq.

I should doe, I am sure. I have ridden it night, and day, this twenty year.

Petru.

But mine is such a drench of Balderdash, Such a strange carded cunningness, the Rayne-bow When she hangs bent in Heaven, sheds not her colours Quicker, and more, than this deceitful Woman.

Enter Ped.

Weaves in her dye's of wickedness: what sayes she?

Ped.

Nay not a word sir, but she pointed to me, As though she meant to follow; pray sir bear it Ev'n as you may, I need not teach your worship, The best men have their crosses, we are all mortal.

Petru.

What ailes the fellow?

Ped.

And no doubt she may Sir.

Petru.

What may she, or what do's she, or what is she Speak and be hang'd.

Ped.

She's mad Sir.

Petru.

Heaven continue it.

Ped.

Amen if't be his pleasure.

Petru.

How mad is she?

Ped.

As mad as heart can wish Sir: she has drest her sel•• (Saving your worships reverence) just i'th 'cut Of one of those that multiply i'th Suburbs For single Money, and as durtily: If any speak to her, first she whistles, And then begins her compass with her fingers, And points to what she would have,

Petru.

What new way's this?

Ped.

There came in Master Sophocles,

Petru.

And what Did Master Sophocles when he came in? Get my Truncks ready, sirha, I'll be gone straight.

Ped.

He's here to tell you She's horne mad Jaques.

Enter Sophocles.

Soph.

Call ye this a Woman?

Petru.

Yes sir, she is a Woman,

Soph.

Sir, I doubt it.

Petru.

I had thought you had made experience,

Soph.

Yes, I did so.

And almost with my life.

Petru.

You rid too fast, Sir.

Soph.

Pray be not mistaken: by this hand Your wife's as chaste, and honest as a Virgin, For any thing I know: 'tis true she gave me A Ring.

Petru.

For rutting.

Soph.

You are much deceiv'd still, Believe me, I never kist her since, and now Co••ing in visitation, like a friend, I think she is mad, Sir, suddainly she started, And snatch'd the Ring away, and drew her knife out, To what intent I know not.

Petru.

Is this certain?

Soph.

As I am here, Sir.

Petru.

I believe you honest. And pray continue so.

Enter Maria.

Soph.

She comes.

Petru.

Now Damsel, What will your beauty do if I forsake you? Do you deal by signs and tokens? as I ghess then, You'll walk abroad, this Summer, and catch Captains, Or hire a piece of holy ground i'th' Suburbs, And keep a Nest of Nuns?

Soph.

Oh do not stir her! You see in what a case she is?

Petru.

She is dogged, And in a beastly case I am sure: I'll make her, If she have any tongue, yet tattle. Sophocles, Prethee observe this woman seriously, And eye her well, and when thou hast done, but tell me (For thou hast understanding) in what case My sense was, when I chose this thing,

Soph.

I'll tell you I have seen a sweeter—

Petru,

An hundred times cry Oisters. There's a poor Begger-wench about Black-Fryers Runs on her breech, may be an Empress to her.

Soph.

Nay, now you are too bitter.

Petru.

Nev'r a whit Sir: I'll tell thee woman; for now I have day to see thee, And all my wits about me, and I speak Not out of passion neither (leave your mumping) I know you're well enough: Now would I give A million but to vex her: when I chose thee To make a Bedfellow, I took more trouble, Than twenty Terms can come to, such a cause, Of such a title, and so everlasting That Adams Genealogie may be ended E'r any Law find thee: I took a Leprosie, Nay worse, the plague, nay worse yet, a possession And had the devil with thee, if not more: And yet worse, was a beast, and like a beast Had my reward, a Jade to fling my fortunes; For who that had but reason to distinguish The light from darkness, wine from water, hunger From full satiety, and Fox from Fern-bush That would have married thee?

Soph.

She is not so ill.

Petru,

She's worse than I dare think of: she's so lewd; No Court is strong enough to bear her cause, She hath neither manners, honesty, behaviour, Wife-hood, nor woman-hood, nor any mortal Can force me think she had a mother: no I do believe her stedfastly, and know her To be a Woman-wolfe by transmigration, Her first forme was a Ferrets under-ground, She kils the memories of men: not yet?

Soph.

Do you think she's sensible of this?

Petru.

I care not, ••e what she will: the pleasure I take in her, Thus I blow off; the care I took to love her, Like this point, I untie, and thus I loose it; The husband I am to her, thus I sever; My vanity farewel: yet, for you have been So near me, as to bear the name of wife, My unquench'd charity shall tell you thus much, (Though you deserve it well) you shall not beg, What I ordain'd your Joynture, honestly You shall have setled on you: and half my house, The other half shall be imploy'd in prayers, (That meritorious charge I'll be at also Yet to confirm you Christian) your apparel, And what belongs to build up such a folly, Keep I beseech you, it infects our uses, And now I am for travel.

Mar.

Now I love you, And now I see you are a man, I'll talke to you, And I forget your bitterness.

Soph.

How now man?

Petru.

Oh Pliny, if thou wilt be ever famous Make but this woman all thy wonders.

Mar.

Sure Sir You have hit upon a happy course, a blessed, And what will make you virtuous?

Petru.

She'll ship me.

Mar.

A way of understanding I long wish'd for, And now 'tis come, take heed you fly not back Sir, Methinks you look a new man to me now, A man of excellence, and now I see Some great design set in you: you may think now (And so may most that know me) 'twere my part Weakly to weep your loss, and to resist you, Nay, hang about your neck, and like a dotard Urge my strong tie upon you: but I love you, And all the world shall know it, beyond woman; And more prefer the honor of your Countrey, Which chiefly you are born for, and may perfect, The uses you may make of other Nations, The ripening of your knowledge, conversation, The full ability, and strength of judgement. Than any private love, or wanton kisses. Go worthy man, and bring home understanding.

Soph.

This were an excellent woman to breed School-men.

Mar.

For if the Merchant through unknown Seas plough To get his wealth, then dear Sir, what must you To gather wisdom? go and go alone, Only your noble mind for your companion, And if a woman may win credit with you, Go far, too far you cannot: still the farther The more experience finds you: and go sparing, One meal a week will serve you, and one sute, Through all your travels: for you'll find it certain, The poorer and the baser you appear, The more you look through still.

Petru.

Dost hear her?

Soph.

Yes.

Petru.

What would this woman do if she were suffer'd. Upon a new Religion?

Soph.

Make us Pagans, I wonder that she writes not.

Mar,

Then when time, And fulness of occasion have new made you, And squar'd you from a Sot into a Signior, Or nearer, from a Jade into a Courser; Come home an aged man, as did Ʋlysses, And I your glad Penelope.

Petru.

That must have As many Lovers as I Languages. And what she does with one i'th' day, i'th' night Undoe it with another.

Mar.

Much that way, Sir; For in your absence it must be my honor, That, that must make me spoken of hereafter, To have temptations, and not little ones

Daily and hourly offered me, and strongly, Almost believed against me, to set off The faith, and loyalty of her that loves you.

Petru.

What should I do?

Soph.

Why by my—I would travel, Did not you mean so?

Petr.

Alas no, nothing less man: I did it but to try, Sir, she's the Devil, And now I find it, for she drives me; I must go: Are my trunks down there, and my horses ready?

Mar.

Sir, for your house, and if you please to trust me With that you leave behind.

Petru.

Bring down the money.

Mar.

As I am able, and to my poor fortunes, I'll govern as a widow: I shall long To hear of your well-doing, and your profit: And when I hear not from you once a quarter, I'll wish you in the Indies, or Catayna, Those are the climes must make you.

Petru.

How's the wind? She'll wish me out o' th' world anon.

Mar.

For France. 'Tis very fair; get you aboard to night, Sir, And loose no time, you know the tide staies no man, I have cold meats ready for you.

Petru.

Fare thee well, Thou hast fool'd me out o'th' Kingdom with a vengeance, And thou canst fool me in again,

Mar.

Not I Sir, I love you better, take your time, and pleasure. I'll see you hors'd.

Petru.

I think thou wouldst see me hanged too, Were I but half as willing.

Mar.

Any thing That you think well of, I dare look upon.

Petru.

You'll bear me to the Lands end, Sophocles, And other of my friends I hope.

Mar.

Nev'r doubt, Sir, You cannot want companions for your good: I am sure you'll kiss me e'r I go; I have business, And stay long here I must not.

Petru.

Get thee going. For i•• thou tarriest but another Dialogue I'll kick thee to thy Chamber.

Mar.

Fare you well, Sir, And bear your self, I do beseech you, once more, Since you have undertaken doing wisely, Manly, and worthily, 'tis for my credit, And for those flying fames here of your follies, Your gambols, and ill breeding of your youth, For which I understand you take this travel, Nothing should make me leave you else, I'll deal, So like a wise that loves your reputation, And the most large addition of your credit, That those shall die: if you want Limon-waters, Or any thing to take the edge o' th' Sea off, Pray speak, and be provided.

Petru.

Now the Devil, That was your first good Master, showre his blessing Upon ye all: Into whose custody —

Mar.

I do commit your Reformation, And so I leave you to your Stilo novo.

Exit Maria.

Petru.

I will go: yet I will not: once more Sophocles I'll put her to the test.

Soph.

You had better go.

Petru

I will go then: let's seek my Father out, And all my friends, to see me fair aboard: Then women if there be a storm at Sea, Worse than your tongues can make, and waves more broken, Than your dissembling faiths are, let me feel Nothing but tempests, till they crack my Keel.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Scaena Prima.

Enter Petronius, and Byancha, with four pap••rs.

By.

NOw whether I deserve that blame you gave me, Let all the world discern, Sir.

Petro.

If this motion, (I mean this fair repentance of my Daughter) Spring from your good perswasion, as it seems so, I must confess I have spoke too boldly of you, And I repent,

By.

The first touch was her own, Taken no doubt from disobeying you, The second I put to her, when I told her How good, and gentle yet, with free contrition Again you might be purchas'd: loving woman, She heard me, and I thank her, thought me worthy Observing in this point: yet all my counsel, And comfort in this case, could not so heal her But that grief got his share too, and she sick'ned.

Petro.

I am sorry she's so ill, yet glad her sickness Has got so good a ground.

Enter Moroso.

By.

Here comes Moroso.

Petro.

Oh, you are very welcome, Now you shall know your happiness.

Mor.

I am glad on't. What makes this Lady here?

By.

A dish for you, Sir You'll thank me for hereafter.

Petro.

True Moroso, Go get you in, and see your Mistriss.

By.

She is sick, Sir, But you may kiss her whole.

Mor.

How.

By.

Comfort her.

Mor.

Why am I sent for, Sir?

Petro.

Will you in, and see?

By.

May be she needs confession.

Mor.

By St. Mary, She shall have absolution then, and pennance, But not above her carriage.

Petro.

Get you in fool.

Exit Mo••

Bya.

Here comes the other too.

Enter Rowland and Tranio.

Petro.

Now Tranio. Good ev'n to you too, and you are welcome.

Row.

Thank you.

Petro.

I have a certain Daughter.

Row.

Would you had, Sir.

Petro.

No doubt you know her well.

Row.

Nor never shall, Sir. She is a woman, and the waies unto her Are like the finding of a certain path After a deep fall'n Snow.

Petro.

Well, that's by th' by still. This Daughter that I tell you of, is fall'n A little crop sick, with the dangerous surfeit She took of your affection.

Row.

Mine Sir?

Petro.

Yes Sir. Or rather, as it seems, repenting. And there she lies within, debating on't,

Row.

Well Sir.

Petro.

I think 'twere well you would see her.

Row.

If you please, Sir; I am not squeamish of my visitation.

Petron.

But, this I'll tell you, she is alter'd much, You'll find her now another Livia.

Row.

I have enough o' th' old, Sir.

Petro.

No more fool, To look gay babies in your eyes young Rowland, And hang about your pretty neck.

Row.

I am glad on't, And thank my Fates I have scap'd such execution.

Petron.

And buss you till you blush again.

Row.

That's hard, Sir; She must kiss shamefully e're I blush at it, I never was so boyish; well, what follows?

Petro.

She's mine now, as I please to settle her At my command, and where I please to plant her: Only she would take a kind of farewel of you, And give you back a wandring vow or two, You left in pawn; and two or three slight oaths She lent you too, she looks for.

Row.

She shall have 'em With all my heart, Sir;, and if you like it better, A free release in writing.

Petro.

That's the matter, And you from her, shall have another Rowland, And then turn tail to tail, and peace be with you.

Row.

So be it: Your twenty pound sweats Tranio.

Tra.

'Twill not undoe me Rowland, do your worst.

Row.

Come, shall we see her, Sir?

Bya.

What e'er she saies You must bear manly Rowland, for her sickness Has made her somewhat pettish

Row.

Let her talk Till her tongue ake, I care not: by this hand Thou hast a handsome face wench, and a body Daintily mounted; now do I feel an hundred Running directly from me, as I pist it.

Enter Livia discovered abed, and Moroso by her.

Bya.

Pray draw 'em softly, the least hurry, Sir, Puts her to much impatience.

Petro.

How is't daughter?

Liv.

Oh very sick, very sick, yet somewhat Better I hope; a little lightsomer, Because this good man has forgiven me; Pray set me higher; oh my head:

Bya.

Well done wench.

Liv.

Father, and all good people that shall hear me, I have abus'd this man perniciously; was never old man humbled so; I have scorn'd him, and call'd him nasty names, I have spit at him, Fl••ng Candles ends in's beard, and call'd him harrow, That must be drawn to all he does; contemn'd him, For methought then, he was a beastly fellow. (Oh my side) a very beastly fellow: And gave it out, his Cassock was a Barge-cloth, Pawn'd to his predecessor by a Sculler, The man yet living: I gave him purging comfits At a great Christning once, That spoil'd his Chamblet breeches; and one night I strew'd the stairs with pease, as he past down; And the good Gentleman (woe worth me for't) Ev'n with this reverend head, this head of wisdom, Told two and twenty stairs, good and true; ••sist not a step, and as we say, verbatim Fell to the bottom, broke his casting Bottle, Lost a fair Toad-stone, of some eighteen shillings, J••mbled his Joynts together, had two stools, And was translated. All this villany Did I: I Livia, I alone, untaught.

Mor.

And I unask'd, forgive it.

Liv.

Where's Byancha?

Bya.

Here Cosin.

Liv.

Give me drink,

Bya.

There.

Liv.

Who's that?

Mor.

Rowland.

Liv.

Oh my dissembler, you and I must part. Come nearer, Sir.

Row.

I am sorry for your sickness.

Liv.

Be sorry for your self, Sir, you have wrong'd me, But I forgive you; are the Papers ready?

Bya.

I have 'em here: wilt please you view 'em?

Petro.

Yes.

Liv.

Shew 'em the young man too, I know he's willing To shift his sails too: 'tis for his more advancement; Alas, we might have begger'd one another; We are young both, and a world of children Might have been left behind to curse our follies: We had been undone Byancha, had we married, Undone for ever, I confess I lov'd him, I care not who shall know it, most intirely; And once, upon my conscience, he lov'd me; But farewel that, we must be wiser, cosin, Love must not leave us to the world: have you done?

Row.

Yes, and am ready to subscribe.

Liv.

Pray stay then: Give me the papers, and let me peruse 'em, And so much time, as may afford a tear At our last parting.

Bya.

Pray retire, and leave her, I'll call ye presently.

Petro.

Come Gentlemen, the showre must fall.

Row.

Would I had never seen her.

Exeunt.

Bya.

Thou hast done bravely wench.

Liv.

Pray Heaven it prove so.

Bya.

There are the other papers: when they come Begin you first, and let the rest subscribe Hard by your side; give 'em as little light As Drapers do their Wares.

Liv.

Didst mark Moroso, In what an agony he was, and how he cry'd most When I abus'd him most?

Bya.

That was but reason.

Liv.

Oh what a stinking thief is this? Though I was but to counterfeit, he made me Directly sick indeed. Thames-street to him Is a meer Pomander.

Bya.

Let him be hang'd.

Liv.

Amen.

Bya.

And lie you still; And once more to your business.

Liv.

Call 'em in. Now if there be a power that pities Lovers, Help now, and hear my prayers.

Enter Petronius, Rowland, Tranio, Moroso.

Petro.

Is she ready?

Bya.

She has done her lamentations: pray go to her.

Liv.

Rowland, come near me, and before you seal, Give me your hand: take it again; now kiss me. This is the last acquaintance we must have; I wish you ever happy: there's the paper.

Row.

Pray stay a little

Petro.

Let me never live more But I do begin to pity this young fellow; How heartily he weeps!

Bya.

There's Pen and Ink, Sir.

Liv.

Ev'n here I pray you. 'Tis a little Emblem How near you have been to me.

Row.

There.

Bya.

Your hands too, As witnesses.

Petro.

By any means To th' Book son.

Mor.

With all my heart.

Bya.

You must deliver it.

Row.

There Livia, and a better love light on thee, I can no more.

Bya.

To this you must be witness too.

Petro.

We will.

Bya.

Do you deliver it now.

Liv.

Pray set me up; There Rowland, all thy old love back: and may A new to come, exceed mine, and be happy. I must no more.

Row.

Farewel:

Liv.

A long farewel.

Exit Row.

Bya.

Leave her by any means, till this wild passion Be off her head: draw all the Curtains close, A day hence you may see her, 'twill be better, She is now for little company.

Petro.

Pray tend her. I must to horse straight, you must needs along too, To see my son aboard: were but his wife As fit for pity, as this wench, I were happy.

Bya.

Time must do that too: fare ye well: to morrow You shall receive a wife to quit your sorrow.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Jaques, Pedro, and Porters, with Chest and Hampers.

Jaq.

Bring 'em away Sirs.

Ped.

Must the great Trunks go too?

Jaq.

Yes, and the Hampers; nay, be speedy Masters; He'll be at Sea before us else.

Ped.

Oh Jaques, What a most blessed turn hast thou?

Jaq.

I hope so

Ped.

To have the Sea between thee and this woman, Nothing can drown her tongue but a storm.

Jaq.

By your leave, We'll get us up to Paris with all speed; For on my soul, as far as Amiens She'll carry blank, away to Lyon-key And ship 'em presently, we'll follow ye.

Ped.

Now could I wish her in that Trunk:

Jaq.

God shield man, I had rather have a Bear in't.

Ped.

Yes, I'll tell ye: For in the passage, if a Tempest take ye, As many doe, and you lie beating for it, Then, if it pleas'd the fates, I would have the Master, Out of a powerful providence, to cry, Lighten the ship of all hands, or we perish; Then this for one, as best spar'd, should by all means, Over-board presently.

Jaq.

O' that condition, So we were certain to be rid of her, I would wish her with us, but believe me Pedro, She would spoil the fishing on this coast for ever. For none would keep her company but Dog-fish, As currish as her self; or Porpisces, Made to all fatal uses: The two Fish-streets Were she but once arriv'd amongst the Whitings, Would sing a woful misereri Pedro, And mourn in Poor John, till her memory Were cast o' shore agen, with a strong Sea-breach: She would make god Neptune, and his Fire-fork, And all his demi-gods, and goddesses, As weary of the Flemmish Channel, Pedro, As ever boy was of the School, 'tis certain, If she but meet him fair, and were well angred, She would break his god-head.

Ped.

Oh her tongue, her tongue.

Jaq.

Rather her many tongues.

Ped.

Or rather strange tongues.

Jaq.

Her lying tongue.

Ped.

Her lisping tongue.

Jaq.

Her long tongue.

Ped.

Her lawless tongue.

Jaq.

Her loud tongue.

Ped.

And her liquorish —

Jaq.

Many other tongues, and many stranger tongues Than ever Babel had to tell his ruines, Were Women rais'd withal; but never a true one.

Enter Sophocles.

Soph.

Home with your stuff agen, the journey's ended.

Jaq.

What does your worship mean?

Soph.

Your Master, Oh Petruchio, oh poor fellows.

Ped.

Oh Jaques, Jaques.

Soph.

Oh your Master's dead, His body coming back, his wife, his devil; The grief of—her

Jaq.

Has kill'd him?

Soph.

Kill'd him, kill'd him.

Ped.

Is there no Law to hang her.

Soph.

Get ye in, And let her know her misery, I dare not For fear impatience seize me, see her more, I must away agen: Bid her for wife-hood, For honesty, if she have any in her, Even to avoid the shame that follows her. Cry if she can, your weeping cannot mend it. The body will be here within this hour, so tell her; And all his friends to curse her. Farewel fellows.

Exit Soph.

Ped.

Oh Jaques, Jaques.

Jaq.

Oh my worthy Master.

Ped.

Oh my most beastly Mistriss, hang her.

Jaq.

Split her.

Ped.

Drown her directly.

Jaq.

Starve her.

Ped.

Stink upon her.

Jaq.

Stone her to death: may all she eat be Eggs. Till she run kicking mad for men.

Ped.

And he, That man, that gives her remedy, pray Heav'n He may ev'n ipso facto, lose his Fadding

Jaq.

Let's go discharge our selves, and he that serves her, Or speaks a good word of her from this hour, A Sedgly curse light on him, which is, Pedro; The Fiend ride through him booted, and spurr'd, with a Sythe at's back.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Rowland, and Tranio stealing behind him.

Row.

What a dull ass was I to let her go thus? Upon my life she loves me still: well Paper, Thou only monument of what I have had, Thou all the love now left me, and now lost, Let me yet kiss her hand, yet take my leave Of what I must leave ever: Farewel Livia. Oh bitter words, I'll read ye once again, And then for ever study to forget ye. How's this? let me look better on't: A Contract? —A Contract, seal' d, and ratified, Her Fathers hand set to it, and Moroso's: I do not dream sure, let me read again, The same still, 'tis a Contract

Tra.

'Tis so Rowland; And by the virtue of the same▪ you pay me An hundred pound to morrow.

Row.

Art sure Tranio, We are both alive now?

Tra.

Wonder not, ye have lost.

Row.

If this be true, I grant it.

Tra.

'Tis most certain, There's a Ring for you too, you know it.

Row.

Yes.

Tra.

When shall I have my money?

Row.

Stay ye, stay ye, When shall I marry her? To night.

Tra.

Take heed now You do not trifle me; if you do, You'll find more payment, than your money comes to: Come swear; I know I am a man, and find I may deceive my self: swear faithfully, Swear me directly, am I Rowland?

Tra.

Yes.

Row.

Am I awake?

Tra.

Ye are.

Row.

Am I in health?

Tra.

As far as I conceive.

Row.

Was I with Livia?

Tra.

You were, and had this Contract.

Row.

And shall I enjoy her?

Tra.

Yes, if ye dare.

Row.

Swear to all these.

Tra.

I will.

Row.

As thou art honest, as thou hast a conscience, As that may wring thee if thou liest; all these To be no vision, but a truth, and serious.

Tra.

Then by my honesty, and faith, and conscience; All this is certain.

Row.

Let's remove our places. Swear it again.

Tra.

By—'tis true.

Row.

I have lost then, and Heaven knows I am glad on't. Let's goe, and tell me all, and tell me how, For yet I am a Pagan in it.

Tra.

I have a Priest too, And all shall come as even as two Testers.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Petronius, Sophocles, Moroso, and Petruchio born in a Coffin.

Petro.

Set down the body, and one call her out.

Enter Maria in black, and Jaques.

You are welcome to the last cast of your fortunes; There lies your Husband; there, your loving Husband, There he that was Petruchio, too good for ye; Your stubborn and unworthy way has kill'd him 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he could reach the Sea; if ye can weep, ••o•• ye have cause begin, and after death Doe something yet to th' world, to think ye honest. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 many tears had sav'd him, shed in time; And as they are (so a good mind go with 'em) Yet they may move compassion.

Mar.

Pray ye all hear me, And judge me as I am, not as you covet, For that would make me yet more miserable: Tis true, I have cause to grieve, and mighty cause; ••d truly and unfeinedly I weep it.

Soph.

I see there's some good nature yet left in her.

Mar.

But what's the cause? mistake me not, not this man, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 he is dead, I weep for; Heaven defend it, ••ver was so childish: but his life, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 poor unmanly, wretched, foolish life, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that my full eyes pity, there's my mourning.

Petro.

Dost thou not shame?

Mar.

I doe, and even to water, ••o what this man was, to think how simple, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 far below a man, how far from reason, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 common understanding, and all Gentry, While he was living here he walk'd amongst us. He had a happy turn he dyed; I'll tell ye, These are the wants I weep for, not his person: The memory of this man, had he liv'd But two years longer, had begot more follies, Than wealthy Autumn Flies. But let him rest, He was a fool, and farewel he; not pitied, I mean in way of life, or action By any understanding man that's honest; But only in's posterity, which I, Out of the fear his ruines might out-live him, In some bad issue, like a careful woman, Like one indeed, born only to preserve him, Deny'd him means to raise.

Petru.

Unbutton me, — I die indeed else? Oh Maria, Oh my unhappiness, my misery.

Petro.

Goe to him whore;—if he perish, I'll see thee hang'd my self.

Petru.

Why, why Maria?

Mar.

I have done my worst, and have my end, forgive me; From this hour make me what you please: I have tam'd ye, And now am vow'd your servant: Look not strangely, Not fear what I say to you. Dare you kiss me? Thus I begin my new love.

Petru.

Once again?

Mar.

With all my heart.

Petru.

Once again Maria, Oh Gentlemen, I know not where I am.

Soph.

Get ye to bed then: there you'll quickly know Sir.

Petru.

Never no more your old tricks?

Mar,

Never Sir.

Petru.

You shall not need, for as I have a faith No cause shall give occasion.

Mar.

Ask I am honest, And as I am a maid yet, all my life From this hour, since ye make so free profession, I dedicate in service to your pleasure.

Soph.

I marry, this goes roundly off.

Petru.

Goe Jaques, Get all the best meat may be bought for money, And let the hogsheads blood, I am born again: Well little England, when I see a Husband Of any other Nation, stern or jealous, I'll wish him but a woman of thy breeding; And if he have not butter to his bread, Till his teeth bleed, I'll never trust my travel.

Enter Rowland, Livia, Byancha, and Tranio.

Petro.

What have we here?

Row.

Another Morris, Sir. That you must pipe too.

Tra.

A poor married couple Desire an offering, Sir.

Bya.

Never frown at it, You cannot mend it now: there's your own hand; And yours Moroso, to confirm the bargain.

Petron.

My hand?

Mor.

Or mine;

Bya.

You'll find it so.

Petro.

A trick, By — a trick.

Bya.

Yes Sir, we trickt ye.

Liv.

Father.

Petro.

Hast thou lain with him? speak?

Liv.

Yes truly Sir.

Petro.

And hast thou done the deed, boy?

Row.

I have, Sir, That, that will serve the turn, I think.

Petru.

A match then, I'll be the maker up of this: Moroso, There's now no remedy you see, be willing;

Mor be, or be not, he must have the wench.

Mor.

Since I am over-reach'd, let's into dinner, And if I can, I'll drink't away.

Tra.

That's well said.

Petro.

Well sirrah, you have plaid a trick, look to't, And let me be a Grandsire within's twelve-month, Or by this hand, I'll curtail half your fortunes.

Row.

There shall not want my labour, Sir: your money; Here's one has undertaken.

Tra.

Well, I'll trust her, And glad I have so good a pawn.

Row.

I'll watch ye.

Petru.

Let's in, and drink of all hands, and be jovial: I have my Colt again, and now she carries; And Gentlemen, whoever marries next, Let him be sure he keep him to his Text.

Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

THe Tamer's tam'd, but so, as nor the men Can find one just cause to complain of, when They fitly do consider in their lives, They should not reign as Tyrants o'er their wives. Nor can the Women from this president Insult, or triumph; it being aptly meant, To teach both Sexes due equality; And as they stand bound, to love mutually. If this effect arising from a cause Well laid, and grounded, may deserve applause, We something more than hope, our honest ends Will keep the Men, and Women too, our friends.