Scæna prima. Enter Moroso and Petronius.

Mor.
That I do love her, is without all question,
And most extreamly, deerly, most exactly;
And that I would ev'n now, this present Monday,
Before all others, maids, wives, women, widdows,
Of what degree or calling, marry her,
As certaine too; but to be made a whim-wham,
A Jib-crack, and a Gentleman o'th first house
For all my kindnesse to her.

Petron.
How you take it?
Thou get a wench, thou get dozen night-caps;
Wouldst have her come, and lick thee like a calfe,
And blow thy nose, and busse thee?

Mor.
Not so neither.

Petron.
What wouldst thou have her do?

Mor.
Do as she should do;
Put on a clean smock, and to Church, and marry,
And then to bed a Gods name, this is faire play,
And keeps the Kings peace; let her leave her bobs,
I have had too many of them, and her quillers,
She is as nimble that way as an Eele;
But in the way she ought to me especially,
A sow of Lead is swifter.

Petron
Quoat your griefes down.

Mor.
Give faire quarter, I am old and crasie,
And subject to much fumbling, I confesse 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 bargaine
Then 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 bitternesse, and down right railings,
As if we were to couple like two cats,
With clawing, add loud clamour:

Petron.
Thou fond man
Hast thou forgot the Ballard, crabbed age,
Can May and Ianuary match together,
And nev'r a storm between 'em? say she abuse thee,
Put case she doe.

Mor.
Wel.

Petron.
Nay, believe she do's.

Mor.
I doe 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 sor't.

Petron.
Now you come to me.

Mor.
Nay more then this; I find too, and finde certain,
What Gold I have, Pearle, Bracelets, Rings, or Owches,
Or what she can desire, Gowns, Petticotes,
Wastcotes, Enbroydered-stockings, Scarffs, Cals, Feathers
Hats, five pound Garters, Muffs, Masks, Ruffs, & 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 daies, for she is so;
The boy's beside the saddle: get warm broths,
And feed apace; think not of worldly businesse,
It cools the blood; leave off your tricks, they are hateful,
And meere forerunners 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 halfe 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 againe, say't,

Petro.
You shall sir:
And you shall have your hope. Enter Byancha and Tranio.

Moro.
Why there's a match then.

Byan.
You shall not finde me wanting, get you gon.
Here's the old man, he'l think you are plotting else
Something against his new Sonne. Exit Tranio.

Moro.
Fare ye well sir. Exit Moroso.
Byan.
And ev'ry Buck had his Does,
And ev'ry Cuckold a Bell at his Toe:
Oh what sport should we have then, then Boyes then,
  O what sport should we have then?

Petro.
This is the spirit, that inspires 'em all.

By.
Give you good ev'n.

Petro.
A word with you Sweet Lady.

By.
I am very hasty sir.

Petro.
So your were ever.

By.
Well what's your will?

Petro.
Was not your skilfull hand
In this last stratagem? were not your mischiefes
Eeking the matter on?

By.
In's shutting up?
Is that it?

Petro.
Yes.

By.
Ile tell you.

Petro.
Doe,

By
And truly.
Good old man, I doe grieve exceeding much,
I feare too much.

Petro.
I am sorry for your heavinesse.
Be like you can repent then?

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

Petro.
What then Lady?

By.
But that I was not in't, there's my sorrow, there
Now you understand me, for Ile tell you,
It was so sound a peece, and so well carried,
And if you marke the way, so hansomely,
Of such a heigth, and excellence, and art
I have not known a braver, for conceive me,
When the grosse foole her husband would be sick—

Petro.
Pray stay.

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

Petro.
By your appointment.

By.
I would it had, on that condition
I had but one halfe smock, I like it so well;
And like and excellent cunning woman, cur'd me
One madnesse with an other, which was rare,
And to our weake beleifes, a wonder.

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

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

Petro.
You have a hand I heare too.

By.
I have two sir.

Petro.
In my yong daughters businesse.

By.
You will finde there
A sitter hand then mine, to reach her frets,
And play down diddle to her.

Petro.
I shall watch ye.

By.
Doe.

Petro.
And I shall have justice.

By.
Where?

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

By.
Get you a posset too; and so good ev'n sir. Exeunt. Enter Petruchio, Iaques; and Pedro.

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

Ped.
And that that hung for our defence, the Armor,
And the march Beere was going too: Oh Iaques
What a sad sight was that?

Iaq.
Even the two Rundlets,
The two that was our hope, of Muskadell,
(Better nev'r tongue tript over) these two Cannons,
To batter brawne withall at Christmas, sir
Ev'n those two lovely twyns, the enemy
Had almost cut off cleane.

Petru.
Goe trim the house up.
And put the things in order as they were. Exit Ped. and Iaq.
I shall finde time for all this: could I finde her
But constant any way, I had done my businesse;
Were she a whore directly, or a scold,
An unthrift, or a woman made to hate me,
I had my wish, and knew which way to rayne her:
But while she shewes all these, and all their losses,
A kinde of linsey woolsey, mingled mischiefe
Not to be ghest at, and whether true, or borrowed,
Not certaine neither, what a hap had I, Enter Maria.
And what a tydie fortune, when my fate
Flung me upon this Beare-whelp? here she comes
Now if she have a colour, for the fault is
A cleanly one, upon my conscience
I shall forgive her yet, and finde a something
Certaine, I married for: her wit: Ile marke her.

Mar.
Not let his wife come neere him in his sicknes,
Not come to comfort him? she that all lawes
Of heaven, and Nations have ordain'd his second,
Is she refus'd? and two old Paradoxes,
Peeces of five and fifty, without faith
Clapt in upon him? h'as a little pet,
That all young wives must follow necessary,
Having their Mayden-heads—

Petru.
This is an Axiome
I never heard before.

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

Petru.
Though I doe know this falser then the devill,
I cannot choose but love it.

Mar.
What doe I know
But those that came to keepe him, might have kill'd him,
In what a case had I been then? I dare not
Beleeve him such a base, debosh'd companion,
That one refusall of a tender maide
Would make him faigne this sicknesse out of need,
And take a Keeper to him of fourescore
To play at Billiards; one that mew'd content
And all her teeth together; not come neere him?

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

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

Petru.
Heav'n blesse me.
And now I have said my Prayers, Ile goe to her:
Are you a wife for any man?

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

Petru.
Holla, you kick too fast.

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

Petru.
I would I could not tell you.

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

Petru.
O' the Shire?

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

Petru.
If I endure this, hang me.

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

Petru.
Now heare me.
For I will stay no longer.

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

Petru.
Thou art the subtlest woman I think living,
I am sure the lewdest; now be still, and marke me;
Were I but any way addicted to the devill,
I should now think I had met a play-fellow
To profit by, and that way the most learned
That ever taught to murmur. Tell me thou,
Thou most poor, paltry spitefull whore: doe you cry?
Ile make you roare, before I leave.

Mar.
Your pleasure.

Petru.
Was it not sinne enough, thou Fruiterer
Full of the fall thou eat'st: thou devils broker,
Thou Seminary of all sedition,
Thou sword of veng'ance, with a thred hung o're us,
Was it not sinne enough, and wickednes
In full abundance? was it not vexation
At all points, cap a pe? nay, I shall pinch you,
Thus like a rotten rascall to abuse
The name of heaven, the tye of marriage,
The honour of thy friends; the expectation
Of all that thought thee vertuous, with rebellion,
Childish and base rebellion, but continuing.
After forgivenesse too, and worse, your mischiefe,
And against him, setting the hope of heaven by,
And the deere reservation of his honour
Nothing above ground could have won to hate thee:
Well goe thy wayes.

Mar.
Yes.

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

Mar.
Well sir, well,
You may well glory in't.

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

Mar.
I defie you.
And my last loving teares farwell: the first stroke,
The very first you give me if you dare strike,
Try me, and you shall finde it so, for ever
Never to be recall'd: I know you love me,
Mad till you have enjoy'd me; I doe turne
Utterly from you, and what man I meet first
That has but spirit to deserve a favour,
Let him beare any shape, the worse the better,
Shall kill you, and enjoy me; what I have said
About your foolish sicknesse, e're you have me
As you would have me, you shall sweare, is certaine,
And challenge any man, that dares deny it;
And in all companies approve my actions,
And so farwell for this time. Exit Mar.

Petru.
Grief goe with thee,
If there be any witchcrafts, herbes, or potions,
Saying my Prayers back-ward, Fiends, or Fayries
That can againe unlove me, I am made. Exit.

Scæna Secunda. Enter Byancha, and Tranio.

Tra.
Mistresse, you must doe it.

By.
Are the writings ready I told you of?

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

By.
Y'are an Asse, you must have all things constru'd,

Tra.
Yes, and peirc'd too,
Or I finde little pleasure.

By.
Now you are knavish,
Goe too, fetch Rowland hither presently,
Your twenty pound lies bleeding else: she is married
Within these twelve houres, if we crosse it not,
And see the Papers of one size.

Tra.
I have ye.

By.
And for disposing of 'em.

Tra.
If I faile you
Now I have found the way, use Marshall Law
And cut my head off with a hand Saw:

By.
Wel sir.
Petronius and Moroso I'le see sent for
About your businesse; goe.

Tra.
I am gone. Exit Tra.

By.
Ho Livia. Enter Livia.

Liv.
Who's that?

By.
A friend of yours, Lord how you looke now,
As if you had lost a Carrick.

Liv.
O Byancha.
I am the most undone, unhappy woman.

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

Liv.
Even as I feare the Gallowes.

By.
Keepe thee there still.
And you love Rowland? say.

Liv.
If I say not
I am sure I lye.

By.
What would'st thou give that woman,
In spight of all his anger, and thy feare,
And all thy Fathers policy, that could
Clap ye within these two nights quietly
Into a Bed together?

Liv.
How?

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

Liv.
Byancha,
Me thinks you should not mock me.

By.
Mock a pudding.
I speake good honest English, and good meaning.

Liv.
I should not be ungratefull to that woman.

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

Liv.
Well, what follows?

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

Liv.
What of these?

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

Liv.
I doe beleeve you: and I am sick.

By.
Doe
To bed then, come, Ile send away your Servants
Post for your Foole, and Father; and good fortune,
As we meane honesty, now strike an up-shot. Exeunt.

Scæna Tertia. Enter Tranio, and Rowland.

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

Row.
But did she send for me?

Tra.
You dare beleeve me.

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

Tra.
No, on my word sir
I deale directly with you. Enter Servant.

Row.
How now fellow,
Whither Post you so fast?

Serv.
O sir my Master
Pray did you see my Master?

Row.
Why your Master?

Serv.
Sir his Jewell.

Row.
With the gilded Button?

Serv.
My pretty Mistresse Livia.

Row.
What of her?

Serv.
Is falne sick o'th suddaine.

Row.
How o'th sullens?

Serv.
O'th suddaine sir, I say, very sick:

Row.
It seemes she hath got the toothach with raw apples.

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

Row.
Who told you so?

Tra.
No, no, he did not see him.

Row.
Farewell blew bottle. Exit Servant.
What should her sicknesse be?

Tra.
For you it may be.

Row.
Yes when my braines are out, I may beleeve it,
Never before I am sure: yet I may see her
'Twill be a point of honesty:

Tra.
It will so.

Row.
It may be not too: you would faine be fingring
This old sinne-offring of two hundred, Tranio,
How daintily, and cunningly you drive me
Up like a Deere to'th toyle, yet I may leape it,
And what's the woodman then?

Tra.
A looser by you.
Speake will you go or not? to me 'tis equall.

Row.
Come what goes lesse?

Tra.
Nay not a penny Rowland.

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

Tra.
By'r-lady Ile require my wager then,
For if you kisse so often, and no kindnesse,
I have lost my speculation, i'le allow you—

Row.
Speake like a Gamster now.

Tra.
It may be two.

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

Tra.
Ile no by-lowes.
If you can love her doe, if you can hate her,
Or any else that loves you.

Row.
Prethee Tranio.

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

Row.
And your money,
Which since you are so stubborne, if I forfeit,
Make me a Jack o' Lent, and breake shins
For untag'd points and Compters: Ile goe with you,
But if thou gett'st a penny by the bargaine;
A parting Kisse is lawfull?

Tra.
I allow it.

Row.
Knock out my braines with Apples; yet a bargaine:

Tra.
I tell you, i'le no bargaines; win, and weare it.

Row.
Thou art the strangest fellow.

Tra.
That's all one.

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

Tra.
Not a Penny. Exeunt.

Scæna quarta. Enter Petruchio, Jaques, and Pedro.

Petru.
Prethee, entreat her come, I will not trouble her
Above a word or two; ere I endure (Exit Pedro.
This life, and with a woman, and a vow'd one
To all the mischiefes she can lay upon me,
Ile goe to Plough again, and eat leeke Porridge;
Begging's a pleasure to't not to be numberd:
No there be other Countries Iaques for me, and other people, yea, and other women.
If I have need, here's money, there's your ware,
Which is faire dealing, and the Sunne, they say
Shines as warme there, as here, and till I have lost
Either my selfe, or her, I care not whether
Nor which first.

Iaq.
Will your worship heare me?

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

Iaq.
Out alas sir
What a strange way doe you runne?

Petru.
Any way,
So I out-runne this rascall.

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

Petru.
The patience, why the patience?

Iaq.
Why i'le tell you,
Could you but have the patience.

Petru.
Well the patience.

Iaq.
To laugh at all she do's, or when she railes,
To have a drum beaten o'th top o'th house,
To give the neighbours warning of her Larme,
As I doe when my wife rebels.

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

Iaq.
Nor an Iron Mill.

Petru.
But thy wife is certaine.

Iaq.
That's false Doctrine,
You never read of a certaine woman.

Petru.
Thou know'st her way.

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

Petru.
But mine is such a drench of Balderdash,
Such a strange carded cunningnesse, the Rayne-bow
When she hangs bent in heaven, sheds not her colours
Quicker and more then this deceitfull woman Enter Ped.
Weaves in her dyes of wickednesse: what sayes she?

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

Petru.
What ailes the fellow?

Ped.
And no doubt she may sir

Petru.
What may she, or what do's she, or what is she?
Speake and be hang'd.

Ped.
She's mad Sir.

Petru.
Heaven continue it.

Ped.
Amen if't be his pleasure

Petru.
How mad is she?

Ped.
As mad as heart can wish sir: she has drest her self
(Saving your worships reverence) just i'th cut
Of one of those that multiply i'th Suburbs
For single money, and as durtily:
If any speake to her, first she whistles,
And then begins her compasse with her fingers,
And points to what she would have.

Petru.
What new waye's this?

Ped.
There came in Master Sophocles,

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

Ped.
He's here to tell you Enter Sophocles.
She's horne mad Iaques.

Soph.
Call ye this a woman?

Petru.
Yes sir, she is a woman,

Soph.
Sir, I doubt it.

Petru.
I had thought you had make experience,

Soph.
Yes I did so.
And almost with my life.

Petru.
You rid too fast sir.

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

Petru.
For rutting.

Soph.
You are much deceiv'd still,
Beleeve me, I never kist her since, and now
Coming in visitation, like a friend,
I thinke she is mad sir, suddainly she started,
And snatch'd the Ring away, and drew her knife out,
To what intent I know not.

Petru.
Is this certaine?

Soph.
As I am here sir.

Petru.
I beleeve you honest. Enter Maria.
And pray continue so.

Soph.
She comes.

Petru.
Now Damsell,
What will your beauty doe, if I forsake you?
Doe you deale by signes, and tokens? as I ghesse then,
You'l walke abroad, this Sommer, and catch Captaines,
Or hire a peece of holy ground i'th Suburbs,
And keepe a neast of Nuns?

Soph.
O doe not stir her!
You see in what a case she is?

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

Soph.
Ile tell you
I have seene a sweeter—

Petru.
An hundred times cry oysters.
Ther's a poore Begger wench about Black-Fryers
Runs on her breech may be an Empresse to her.

Soph.
Nay, now you are too bitter.

Petru.
Nev'r a whit sir:
Ile tell thee woman; for now I have day to see thee,
And all my wits about me, and I speake
Not out of passion neither (leave your mumping)
I know you're well enough: Now would I give
A million but to vex her: when I chose thee
To make a Bedfellow, I tooke more trouble,
Then twenty Termes can come too, such a cause,
Of such a title, and so everlasting
That Adams Genealogie may be ended
Ere any law find thee: I tooke a Leprosie,
Nay worse, the plague, nay worse yet, a possession

And had the devill with thee, if not more:
And yet worse, was a beast, and like a beast
Had my reward, a Jade to fling my fortunes;
For who that had but reason to distinguish
The light from darknesse, wine from water, hunger
From full saciety, and Fox from ferne bush
That would have married thee?

Soph.
She is not so ill.

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

Soph.
Do you think she's sensible of this?

Petru.
I care not,
Be what she will the pleasure I take in her,
Thus I blow off, the care I took to love her,
Like this point I unty, and thus I loose it,
The husband I am to her, thus I sever:
My vanity farwell: yet, for you have bin
So neer me as to bear the name of wife,
My unquench'd charity shall tell you thus much
(Though you deserve it well) you shall not beg,
What I ordan'd your Jointure, honestly
You shall have setled on you: and half my house,
The other half shall be imploy'd in prayers,
(That meritorious charge Ile be at also
Yet to confirm you christian) your apparrell,
And what belongs to build up such a folly,
Keep I beseech you, it infects our uses,
And now I am for travell.

Mar.
Now I love you,
And now I see you are a man ile talk to you,
And I forget your bitternesse.

Soph.
How now man?

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

Mar.
Sure sir
You have hit upon a happy course, a blessed,
And what will make you vertuous?

Petru.
She'l ship me.

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

Soph.
This were an excellent woman to breed Schoolmen.

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

Petru.
Do'st hear her?

Soph.
Yes.

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

Soph.
Make us nothing,
I wonder that she writes not.

Mar.
Then when time,
And fulnesse of occasion have new made you,
And squard you from a sot into a Signour,
Or neerer from a Iade into a courser;
Come home an aged man, as did Ulysses,
And I your glad Penelope.

Petru.
That must have
As many lovers as I languages.
And what she do's with one i'th day, i'th night
Undoe it with an other.

Mar.
Much that way sir;
For in your absence, it must be my honour,
That, that must make me spoken of hereafter,
To have temptations, and not little ones
Daily and hourely offerd me, and strongly,
Almost believed against me, to set off
The faith, and loyalty of her that loves you

Petru.
What should I do?

Soph.
Why by my—I would travell,
Did not you mean so?

Petru.
Alas no, nothing lesse man:
I did it but to try sir, shee's the devill,
And now I find it, for she drives me, I must go:
Are my trunks down there, and my horses ready?

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

Petru.
Bring down the money.

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

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

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

Petru.
Far thee well,
Thou ha'st foold me o'th Kingdom with a vengeance,
And thouc canst foole me in againe.

Mir.
Not I sir,
I love you better, take your time, and pleasure,
Ile see you hors'd.

Petru.
I think thou wouldst see me hangd too,
Were I but halfe as willing.

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

Petru.
You'l bear me to the lands end Sophocles,
And other of my friends I hope.

Mar.
Nev'r doubt sir,
You cannot want companions for your good:
I am sure you'l kisse me ere I go; I have businesse,
And stay long here I must not.

Petru.
Get thee going.

For if thou tarriest but an other Dialogue
Ile kick thee to thy Chamber.

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

Petru.
Now the Devill,
That was your first good master, shoure his blessing
Upon ye all: into whose custody—

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

Petru.
I will go: yet I will not: once more Sophocles
Ile put her to the test.

Soph.
You had better go.

Petru.
I will go then: let's seek my father out,
And all my friends to see me faire aboard:
Then women, if there be a storme at Sea,
Worse then your tongues can make, and waves more broken
Then your dissembling fayths are, let me feele
Nothing but tempests, till they cracke my Keele. Exeunt

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