The Scene London.

PROLOGUE.

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

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

Mo. 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, E'r 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 him a good man. Soph. Yes sure a wealthy, But whether a good womans man, is doubtful. Tra. Would 'twere no worse. M[o]r. 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 fire 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 not 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.

Scæna 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 you 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 his 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. Ro[w]. 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, You 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. But do not say I urg'd you. Mar. I am perfect, Like Curtius, to redeem my Countrey, I have Leap'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, I am no more the gentle, tame Maria; Mistake me not; I have a new soul in me Made of a North wind, nothing but tempest; And 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, View 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, Or none of our acquaintance: mark me Livia; Or indeed fit for our sex: 'Tis bed time. Pardon me yellow Hymen, that I mean Thine offerings to protract, or to keep fasting My 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, W[a]nting 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? Ja[q]. 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. [Exit.

Scæna 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 shillings. Petru. Done: who takes me up next? I am for all bets. 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 fearful dwarfe; Here is no place for living man.

Petru. Well my masters, if I do sink under my business, as I find 'tis very possible, I am not the first that has miscarried; So that's my comfort, what may be done without 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 rifle her: here's a coil with a Maiden-head, 'tis not intail'd, is it?

Petru. If it be, I'll try all the Law i'th' Land, but I'll cut 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 Daw, or force a breach i'th' windows: you may untile the house, 'tis possible.

Petru. What dost thou mean?

Jaq. A moral, Sir, the Ballad will express it: The wind and the rain, has turned you back again, And you cannot be lodged there. The truth is, all the doors Are baracadoed; not a Cathole, but holds a murd'rer in't. 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 Gentlemen, but take heed to your heads: I say no more. Soph. I'll try that. [Exit Soph. Petron. How dost thou say? the door fast lock'd fellow?

Jaq. Yes truly Sir, 'tis lock'd, and guarded too; and two as desperate tongues planted behind it, as e'er yet batter'd: they stand upon their honors, and will not give up without strange composition, I'll assure you; marching away 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. Mor. Who's that for Heavens sake?

Jaq. Colonel Byancha, she commands the works: Spinola'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 louder, 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, cætera quis nescit? The chamber's nothing but a mere Ostend, in every window Pewter Cannons mounted, you'll quickly find 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'[t follows] Petro. Thou wilt not, wilt'a? Mar. Yes indeed dear father, And till he seal to what I shall set down, For any thing I know for ever. Soph. Indeed these are Bug[s]-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 [ex]cept 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 Packs 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 fine smart Cudgel. Oh that I were near thee. Bya. If you had teeth now, what a case were we in! M[o]r. 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 meat 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 downright 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 down i'th' top of all my speed; this is fine dancing: Gentlemen, stick to me. You see our Freehold's touch'd, and by this 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 omn.

Scæna 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— [Exit. Row. What ails 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 yo[n] 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 a 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 defies 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, If 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. Mar. 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. Mor. 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. Mor. Better still. Liv. And then if I want Spanish Gloves, or Stockings, A ten pound Wastecoat, or a Nag to hunt on, It may be I shall grace you to accept 'em. Row. Farewel, and when I credit women more, May 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; Farewel, and be a man, and I'll provide you, Because 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. Scæna 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 slight 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.

Scæna 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 find my Sisters safety A sure retirement; pray to heaven that Rowland Do not believe too far, what I said to him, For yon old Foxcase forc'd me, that's my fear. Stay, let me see, this quarter fierce 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. Cheval' 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 lose 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 Æneas, 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 root our se[l]ves, 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 find 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, [most] 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 great 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 thee; 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.

Scæna 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.

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Rowland and Tranio at several doors.

Tra. Now Rowland? Row. How doe you? Tra. How dost thou man? Thou look'st ill: [R]ow. 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 bread naught in her But windy promises, and chollick vows That broke out both ways. [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 [h]e 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? R[o]w. 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 [doe] beseech you, even for love sake.— Tra. I will Rowland. Row. She may sooner Count the good I have thought her, Our old love and our friendship, 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.

Scæna 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, a[n]d are swift to catch occasion, (I mean their foes 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 overlaid, They fall beneath the weight; yet still aspiring At those Emperious [Codsheads] that would tame 'em. There's ne'r a one of these, the worst and weakest, (Chuse where you will,) but 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.

Scæna [Sexta.]

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 [God] 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 [them] 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.

Tra. Hark. Petro. A Song, pray silence. [All the Women above. Citizens and Countrey women. Mor. 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, It 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 [then] 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, Use us as we deserve; and first degrade us Of 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, Da[y]ry-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. [Liv. He wil undoe me in meere pans of Coles To make him lustie.] 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 [command] 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. Petr[u]. For Livia's Article you shall observe it, I have ti'd my self. Petron. I will. Petru. Along then: now Either I break, or this stiff plant must bow. [Exeunt.

Actus Tertius. Scæna 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 [miseries] 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[a]. 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'r 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. Row. Do Tranio. [Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Pedro, and Jaques.

Ped. A pair of Stocks bestride 'em, Are they gone? Ja[q]. Yes they are gone; and all 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 P[r]ayers As the most zealous Puritane conceives Out of the meditation of fat Veal, Or Birds of prey, cram'd Capons, against Players, And to 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! Ja[q]. 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. Jaq. 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.

Scæna 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 I never could, nor should, till 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, Refus'd a warranted occasion, And standing on so fair termes. Petru. I shall quit her. Soph. Us'd you no more art? Petru. Yes, I swore to her, And by no little ones, if presently Without more disputation on the matter, She grew not nearer to me, and dispatcht me Out of the [pain] 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 huntes-up. Soph. Then she started? Petru. No more than I do now; marry she answered If I were so dispos'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, Sophocles, 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 That 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 twelvemonth. 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 Colledge for young Scolds. Mar. And to the Southward Take 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? What's a Husband? What are we married 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, Without 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. Why 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 Wife 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, What dog-star, bull, or bear-star, when I married This second wife, this whirlwind, that takes all Within 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 Whore 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 akes; Something I must do speedily: I'll die, If I can hansomely, for that's the way To make a Rascal of her; I am sick, And I'll go very near it, but I'll perish. [Exit.

Scæna 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, Your Rings, and Bracelets, and the Purse you gave me, The Money's spent in entertaining you At Plays, and Cherry-gardens. Liv. There's your Chain too. But if you'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 Play 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.

Scæna 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, Is 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 t[o]o 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. Scæna 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 [sh]ould 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 Ee[le]; 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, I buy 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. Hast thou forgot the Ballad, crabbed age, Can May and January match together, And nev'r a storm between 'em? say she abuse thee, Put 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, Embroydered-stockings, Scarffs, Cals, Feathers, Hats, 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, Is't requisit an other bore my nostrils? Riddle me that. Petron. Go get you gone, and dreame She'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, It 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. Petra. 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.