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

Moroso.
God give 'em joy.

Tra.
Amen.

Soph.
Amen, say I to:
The Puddings now i'th proof; alas poor wench,
Through what a mine of patience must thou worke,
Ere thou know'st good houre more?

Tra.
Tis too true: Certaine,
Me thinks 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 poore Gentlewoman.

Mor.
Me thinks now,
He's not so terrible as people think him.

Soph.
This old thiefe flatters, out of meere 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.
Ile assure ye,
I hold him a good man.

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

Tra.
Would 'twere no worse.

Mor.
What though his other wife,
Out of her most abundant sobernesse,
Out of her daily huy and cries upon him,
(For sure she was a Rebell) turn'd his temper,
And forc'd him blow as high as she? do'st follow
He must retain that long since buried Tempest,
To this soft maid?

Soph.
I feare 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 doe sir?

Tra.
I would learn to eate Coales with an angry Cat,
And spit fire at him: I would (to prevent him)
Do all the ramping, roaring tricks, a whore
Being drunke, and tumbling ripe, would tremble at:
There is no safety else, nor morall wisdome,
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, Colstaves, any thing;
Hiding his Breeches, out of feare her Ghost
Should walk, and weare 'em yet. Since his first marriage,
He is no more the still Petruchio,
Then 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 soule—

Tra.
His very frowne, if she but say her prayers
Louder then men talk treason, makes him tindar;
The motion of a Diall, when he's testy,
Is the same trouble to him as a water-worke;
She must do nothing of her selfe; not eate,
Drink, say sir how do ye, make her ready, unready,
Unlesse he bid her.

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

Tra:
Ile be your halfe. Enter Jaques with a pot of Wine.

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

Jaq.
Yes certaine,
This old sport must have egges,

Soph.
Not yet this ten daies.

Jaq.
Sweet Gentlemen with Muskadell.

Tra.
That's right sir.

Mor.
This fellow broods his Master: speed ye Jaques.

Soph.
We shall be for you presently.

Jaq.
Your worships
Shal have it rich and neat: and o' my conscience
As welcom as our Lady day: O my old sir,
When shall we see your worship run at Ring?
That houre a standing were worth money

Mor.
So sir.

Jaq.
Upon my little honesty, your Mistris,
If I have any speculation, must thinke
This single thrumming of a Fiddle,
Without a Bow, but ev'n poore sport.

Mor.
Y'are merry.

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

Tra.
The fellow tels you true. Exit Jaq.

Soph.
When is the day man?
Come, come, you'l steale 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 walke?
They'l think we are lost: Come Gentlemen.

Tra.
You have wip't 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'l goe away to night,
If your affections be not made of words.

Liv.
I love you, and you know how dearly Rowland,
Is there none neere 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 lesse prosperous course,
Then 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.

Row.
What hopes 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 feares
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 certaine, begging, stealing, whoring,
Selling, (which is a sin unpardonable)
Of counterfeit Cods, or musty English Cracus,
Switches, or stones for th'toothache sooner finds me,
Then that drawn Fox and Moroso.

Row.
But his money,
If wealth may win you—

Liv.
If a Hog may be
High Priest among the Jewes: his money Rowland?
Oh Love forgive me, what faith hast thou?
Why, can his money kisse me?

Row.
Yes.

Liv.
Behind,
Lasd out upon a Petticote: or graspe me
While I cry, O good thank you? o' my troth
Thou makst me merry with thy feare: or lie with me,
As you may do? alas, what fooles 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 Ile give it
To him that loves, not buys me. You yet doubt me.

Row.
I cannot say I doubt ye.

Liv.
Goe thy waies,
Thou art the prettiest puling piece of passion:
Yfaith I will not faile 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 goe; this kisse, and credit me,
Ere I am three nights older, I am for thee:
You shall heare what I do.
Farewell.

Row.
Farewell. Exit Rowland.

Liv.
Alas poore foole, how it looks?
It would ev'n hang it selfe, should I but crosse it.
For pure love to the matter I must hatch it.

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

Mar.
Stay, shall I do it?

Bya.
Have you a stomack 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 redeeme my Countrey, have I
Leap'd into this gulph of marriage, and Ile do it.
Farewell all poorer thoughts, but spight & anger,
Till I have wrought a miracle. Now cosen,
I am no more the gentle tame Maria;
Mistake me not; I have a new soule in me
Made of a North-wind, nothing but tempest;
And like a tempest shall it make all ruins,
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 tendernesse, I dare continue;
Maides that are made of feares 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 Rebels should up, rowse old night,
To sweat against a Cork; to lie and tell
The clock o'th longs, to rise sport-starv'd?

Liv.
Deere sister,
Where have you been you talke thus?

Mar.
Why at Church, wench;

Where I am tide to talke thus: I am a wife now.

Liv.
It seems so, and a modest.

Mar.
You are an asse;
When thou art married once, thy modesty
Will never buy thee Pins.

Liv.
'Blesse me.

Mar.
From what?

Bya.
From such a tame foole as our cozen Livia?

Liv.
You are not mad.

Mar.
Yes wench, and so must you be,
Or none of our acquantance, marke me Livia.
Or indeed sit for our sex: 'Tis bed time.
Pardon me yellow Hymen, that I meane
Thine offrings to protract, or to keepe fasting
My valiant Bridegroome.

Liv.
Whether will this woman?

Bya.
You may perceive her end.

Liv.
Or rather feare it.

Mar.
Dare you be partner in't?

Liv.
Leave it Maria,
I feare I have mark'd too much, for goodnesse leave it;
Devest 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 (nere 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 scoope the Ocean, as
To tame Petruchio.

Mar.
Stay: Lucina heare me,
Never unlock the treasure of my womb
For humane fruit, to make it capable;
Nor never with thy secret hand make briefe
A mothers labour to me; if I doe
Give way unto my married husbands will,
Or be a wife, in any thing but hopes,
Till I have made him easie as a child,
And tame as feare, 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 kisse him, till I have my will,
May I be barren of delights, and know
Onely what pleasures are in dreams, and guesses.

Liv.
A strange Exordium.

Bya.
All the severall wrongs
Done by Emperious husbands to their wives
These thousand yeeres and upwards, strengthen thee:
Thou hast a brave cause.

Mar.
And Ile doe 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, looke before you truly,
Besides the obedience of a wife,
Which you will finde a heavy imputation,
Which yet I cannot thinke your own, it shews
So distant from your sweetnesse.

Mar.
Tis I sweare.

Liv.
Weigh but the person, and the hopes you have,
To worke this disperate cure.

Mar.
A weaker subject
Would shame the end I aime 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 foole,
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 daunce for him.

Liv.
Are you of this faith?

Bya.
Yes truly, and wil die in't.

Liv.
Why then let's all weare breeches.

Mar.
Now thou comst neere the nature of a woman;
Hang these tame hearted Eyasses, that no sooner
See the Lure out, and heare their husbands halla,
But cry like Kites upon 'em: The free Haggard
(Which is that woman, that hath wing, and knowes it,
Spirit, and plume) wil make an hundred checks,
To shew her freedome, saile, in ev'ry ayre,
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 traines, and golden ones,
To take her down again.

Liv.
You are learned sister;
Yet I say still take heed.

Mar.
A witty saying;
Ile 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 reclaime us
Confirm'd by Parliament; had he all the malice
And subtilty of Devils, or of us,
Or any thing that's worse then both.

Liv.
Hey, hey boyes, this is excellent.

Mar.
Or could he
Cast his wives new again, like Bels to make 'em
Sound to his will; or had the fearfull name
Of the first breaker of wilde 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,
Wanting both teeth & spleen, may Master him.

Bya.
Thou wilt be chronicl'd.

Mar.
That's all I aime at.

Liv
I must confesse, I do with all my heart
Hate an Emperious husband, and in time
Might be so wrought upon.

Bya.
To make him cuckold?

Mar.
If he deserve it.

Liv.
Then Ile leave ye Ladies.

Bya.
Thou hast not so much Noble anger in thee.

Mar.
Goe sleep, goe sleep, what we intend to do,
Lies not for such starv'd soules as thou hast Livia.

Liv.
Good night: the Bridegroom will be with you presently.

Mar.
That's more then you know.

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

Mar.
So.

By.
Good night: we'l trouble you no further.

Mar.
If you intend no good, pray doe no harm.

Liv.
None, but pray for you. Exit Livia.

Bya.
'Cheere 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 halfe builders all men say. Enter Jaques.

Jaq.
My Master forsooth.

Mar.
Oh how do's thy Master? prethee commend me to him.

Jaq.
How's this? my Master staies 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?

Jaq.
In the low matted Parlour.

Mar.
There lies his way by the long Gallery.

Jaq.
I mean your chamber: y'ar very merry Mistris.

Mar.
Tis a good signe I am sound hearted Jaques:
But if you'l 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 dore?
By'r Lady we shall have foule weather then:
I doe 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 eare, their signes, 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 doe in waies of honour,
That are such Masters this way. Well, my Sir
Has been as good at finding out these toyes,
As any living; if he lose it now,
At his own perill be it. I must follow. Exit.

Scena tertia. Enter Servants with lights, Petruchio, Petronius, Moroso, Tranio, and Sophocles.

Petru.
You that are married, Gentlemen, home at ye
For a round wager now.

Soph.
Of this nights Stage?

Petru.
Yes.

Soph.
I am your first man: a paire of Gloves of twenty shillings.

Petru.
Done: who takes me up next? I am for all bets.

Mor.
Well lusty Laurence, 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 staffe boy, ha?
Old father time, your houre-glasse is empty.

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

Petron.
See how these boyes despise us. Will you to bed sonne?
This pride will have a fall.

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

Petro.
Wil you to bed son, & leave talking;
To morrow morning we shall have you looke,
For all your great words, like St. George at Kingston,
Running a foot-back from the furious Dragon,
That with her angry tayle 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 fearfull dwarfe;
Here is no place for living man.

Petru.

Well my masters, if I doe sinke under my businesse, as I finde 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 doe.

How now is my faire Bride a bed?

Jaq.

No truly sir.

Petron.

Not a bed yet? body o' me: we'l up and rifle her: here's a coyle with a mayden-head, tis not intayl'd, is it?

Petru.

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

Jaq.

That you cannot neither.

Petru.

Why?

Jaq.

Unlesse 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 meane?

Jaq.
A morall sir, the Ballat will expresse it:
The wind and the rain has turnd you back again,
And you cannot be lodged there. The truth is all the doores
Are baracadoed; not a Cathole, but holds a murd'rer in't.
She's victual'd for this moneth.

Petru.
Art not thou drunk?

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

Jaq.

Yes, yes, I am drunke: ye may goe up, ye may Gentlemen, but take heed to your heads: I say no more.

Soph.

Ile try that.

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 ere yet batterd: they stand upon their honours, and will not give up without strange composition, Ile assure you; marching away with their Pieces cockt, and Bullets in their mouthes 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 Engineir.

Mor.
Who's that for Heavens sake?

Jaq.

Colonell Byancha, she commands the workes: Spinala's but a ditcher to her, there's a halfe-moon: I am but a poore man, but if you'l give me leave, Ile venture a yeeres wages, draw all your force before it, and mount your ablest piece of battery, you shall not enter it these three nights yet.

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, goe up now, and be cool'd.
I have scap'd pretty scowring.

Petru.
What are they mad? have we another Bedlam?
They doe not talke I hope?

Soph.

Oh terribly, extreamly fearfull, the noise at London-bridge is nothing neere her.

Petru.
How got she tongue?

Soph.
As you got taile, 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, Ile batter; are these vertues?

Soph.

Do, and be beaten off with shame, as I was: I went up, came to th'doore, knockd, no body answered; knock'd lowder, yet heard nothing: would have broke in by force; when suddenly a water-worke 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 meere Ostend, in every window Pewter cannons mounted, you'l quickly finde 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 blanke hit to the heart: now and ye dare go up

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

Petron.
Why how now daughter: what intrenc'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 thinke you cannot sir, I am better fortified.

Petru.
I know your end,
You would faine 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 houre,
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 do's she, and in chiefe.

Bya.
I doe 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 deere father,
And till he seale to what I shall set down,
For any thing I know, for ever.

Soph.
Indeed these are Bugs-words.

Tra.
You heare sir, she can talke, God be thanked.

Petru.
I would I heard it not sir.

Soph.
I finde that all the pity bestowd upon this woman,
Makes but an Anagram of an ill wife,
For she was never vertuous.

Petru.
Youl 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.
Ile fetch you then.

Bya.
The power of the whole Country cannot sir,
Unlesse we please to yield, which yet I thinke
We shal not; charge when you please, you shall
Heare quickly from us.

Mor.
Blesse me from a Chicken of thy hatching,
Is this wiving?

Petru.
Prethee Maria tell me what's the reason,
And do it freely, you deale 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 keepe 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 wel 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 except against; nay more, so far
I am from making these the ends I aime at,
These idle outward things, these womens feares,
That were I yet unmarried, free to choose
Through all the Tribes of man, i'ld take Petruchio
In's shirt, with one ten Groats to pay the Priest,
Before the best man living, or the ablest
That ev'r leap'd out of Lancashire, and they are right ones.

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

Petru.
If you wil have me credit you Maria,
Come down, and let your love confirme 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 Kingdome.

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 wil talke.

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 feare
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 wel.

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 mans, you gave't away
I'th Church, if you remember, to my husband:
So all you can exact now, is no more
But onely 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 neere thee, I would give thee—
Pull thee down by th'nose.

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

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

Mar.
I do confesse that duty; make your best on't.

Petru.
Why give me leave, I will.

Bya.
Sir, there's no learning
An old stiffle Jade to trot: you know the morall.

Mar.
Yet as I take it sir, I owe no more
Then you owe back again.

Petru.
You wil not Article?
All I owe, presently, let me but up, ile pay.

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

Petru.
Yes.

Mar.
Then by that duty, or respect, or what
You please to have it, goe 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 Cudgell. Oh that I were neer 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 weeke hence, or a fortnight, as you beare you,
And as I finde my will observ'd, I may
With intercession of some friends be brought
May be to kisse you; and so quarterly
To pay a little rent by composition,
You understand me?

Soph.
Thou Boy, thou.

Petru.
Well there are more Maides then Maudlin, that's my comfort.

Mar.
Yes, and more men then 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'le none with you.

By.
You had best back one of the dairy maids, they'l carry.
But take heed to your girthes, you'l get a bruise else.

Petru.
Now if thou would'st come down, and tender me:
All the delights due to a marriage bed,
Studdy such kisses as would melt a man,
And turne thy selfe into a thousand figures,
To adde new flames unto me, I would stand
Thus heavy, thus regardlesse, thus despising
Thee, and thy best allurings: all thy beauty
That's laid upon your bodies, mark me well,
For without doubt your mind's are miserable,
You have no maskes for them: all this rare beauty,
Lay but the Painter, and the silke worme by,
The Doctor with his dyets, and the Taylor,
And you appeare like flead Cats, not so handsome.

Mar.
And we appeare like her that sent us hither,
That onely 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 alayes,
And bas 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 soules I take it:
Good night: come Gentlemen; i'le fast for this night,
But by this hand—well: I shall come up yet?

Mar.
Noe.

Petru.
There will I watch thee like a wither'd Jewry,
Thou shalt neither have meat, fire, nor Candle,
Nor any thing that's easie: doe you rebell so soone?
Yet take mercy.

By.
Put up your Pipes: to bed sir; i'le assure you
A moneths seige will not shake us.

Moro.
Well said Colonell.

Mar.
To bed to bed Petruchio: good night Gentlemen,
You'l make my Father sicke with sitting up:
Here you shall finde us any time these ten dayes,
Unlesse we may march off with our contentment.

Petru.
Ile hang first.

Mar.
And i'le quarter if I doe not,
Ile make you know, and feare a wife Petruchio,
There my cause lies.
You have been famous for a woman tamer,
And beare the fear'd-name of a brave wife-breaker:
A woman now shall take those honours off,
And tame you; nay, never look so bigge, she shall beleeve me,
And I am she: what thinke ye; good night to all,
Ye shall finde Centinels.

By.
If ye dare sally. Exeunt above.

Petro.

The devill's in 'em, ev'n the very devill, the downe right devill.

Petru.

Ile devill 'em: by these ten bones I will: i'le 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 beleaguer 'em, and either starve 'em out, or make 'em recreant.

Petro.
Ile see all passages stopt, but those about 'em:
If the good women of the Towne dare succour 'em,
We shall have warres indeed.

Soph.
Ile stand perdue upon 'em.

Mor.
My regiment shall lye before.

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

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

Scæna quarta. Enter Rowland, and Pedro, at severall doores.

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 beleeve me, as hasty—

Row.
The cause good Pedro?

Ped.
There be a thousand sir; you are not married?

Row.
Not yet.

Ped.
Keepe your selfe quiet then.

Row.
Why?

Ped.
You'l finde a Fiddle
That never will be tun'd else: from all women— Exit.

Row.
What ailes the fellow tro? Iaques? Enter Iaques,

Iaq.
Your friend sir.
But very full of businesse.

Row.
Nothing but businesse?
Prethee the reason, is there any dying?

Jaq.
I would there were sir.

Row.
But thy businesse?

Iaq.
Ile tell you in a word,
I am sent to lay
An imposition upon Sowse and Puddings,
Pasties, and Penny Custards, that the women
May not releeve yon Rebels: Fare ye well sir.

Row.
How does my Mistresse?

Iaq.
Like a resty jade.
She's spoil'd for riding. Exit Iaques.

Row.
What a devill ayle they? Enter Sophocles.
Custards, and penney Pasties, Fooles and Fiddles,
What's this to'th purpose? O well met.

Soph.
Now Rowland.
I cannot stay to talk long.

Row.
What's the matter?
Here's stirring, but to what end? whether goe you?

Soph.
To view the works.

Row.
What workes?

Soph.
The womens Trenches.

Row.
Trenches? are such to see?

Soph.
I doe not jest sir.

Row.
I cannot understand you.

Soph.
Doe not you heare
In what a state of quarrell 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 fortifide; such a Regiment of Rutters
Never defied men braver: I am sent
To view their preparation.

Row.
This is newes
Stranger then Armes in the ayre, you saw not
My gentle Mistresse?

Soph.
Yes, and meditating
Upon some secret businesse, when she had found it
She leapt 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.
Farewell. Exit Sophocles.

Row.
Farewell sir.
What should her musing meane, and what her joy in't,
If not for my advantage? stay ye; may not Enter Livia at one doore, and Moroso at another barkning.
That Bob-taile Jade Moroso, with his Gold,
His new-gaudes, and the hope she has to send him
Quickly to dust, excite this? here she comes,
And yonder walkes the Stallion to discover:
Yet i'le salute her: save you beauteous mistresse.

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

Row.
Why doe you looke so strange?

Liv.
I use to looke sir
Without examination.

Moro.
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, doe you not?

Liv.
Yes as I may know many by repentance.

Row.
Why doe you breake your faith?

Liv.
Ile tell you that too,
You are under age, and no band holds upon you.

Moro.
Excellent wench.

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

Moro.
Better still.

Liv.
And then if I want Spanish gloves, or stockings,
A ten-pound waste-coate, or a Nag to hunt on,
It may be I shall grace you to accept 'em.

Row.
Farewell, and when I credit women more,
May I to Smith-field, and there buy a Jade,
(And know him to be so) that breakes my neck.

Liv.
Because I have knowne you, Ile be thus kinde to you;
Farewell, and be a man, and i'le provide you,
Because I see y'are desperate, some staid Chamber-maid
That may relieve your youth, with wholesome doctrin.

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

Liv.
Ha Chicken?— gives him a box o'th eare and Ex.

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

Row.
The devill take thee— wrings him by th'nose.

Mor.
Oh!

Row.
There's a love token for you: thank me now.

Mor.
Ile thinke on some of ye, and if I live,
My nose alone shall not be plaid withall. Exit.

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