Actus Quintus
Scæna Prima.
Enter Petronius, and Byancha with foure papers.
By.
Now whether I deserve that blame you gave me,
Let all the world discern sir.
Petron.
If this motion,
(I mean this fair repentance of my Daughter)
Spring from your good perswasion, as it sems so,
I must confesse I have spoke too boldly of you,
And I repent.
By.
The first touch was her own,
Taken no doubt from disobeying you,
The second I put to her, when I told her
How good, and gentle yet, with free contrition
Again you might be purchas'd: loving woman,
She heard me, and I thank her, thought me worthy
Observing in this point: yet all my councell,
And comfort in this case, could not so heal her
But that grief got his share too, and she sickend.
Petron.
I am sorry she's so ill, yet glad her sicknesse
Ha's got so good a ground.
Enter Moroso.
By.
Here comes Moroso.
Petron.
O you are very welcome,
Now you shall know your happinesse.
Mor.
I am glad on't.
What makes this Lady here?
By.
A dish for you sir
You'l thank me for hereafter.
Petron.
True Moroso,
Go get you in, and see your Mistris.
By.
She is sick sir,
But you may kisse her whole.
Mor.
How.
By.
Comfort her.
Mor.
VVhy am I sent for sir?
Petron.
Will you in, and see?
By.
May be she needs confession.
Mor.
By St. Mary,
She shall have absolution then and pennance,
But not above her carriage.
Petron.
Get you in foole.
Exit. Mor.
By.
Here comes the other too.
En. Rowland and Tranio.
Petron.
Now Tranio.
Good ev'n to you too, and you are welcome.
Row.
Thank you.
Petron.
I have a certaine Daughter.
Row.
Would you had sir.
Petron.
No doubt you know her well.
Row.
Nor never shall sir.
She is a woman, and the waies unto her
Are like the finding of a certaine path
After a deep falne Snow.
Petron.
Well thats by'th by still.
This Daughter that I tell you of is falne
A little crop sick, with the dangerous surfeit
She took of your affection.
Row.
Mine sir?
Petron.
Yes sir.
Or rather, as it seemes, repenting.
And there she lies within, debating on't,
Row.
Well sir.
Petron.
I think 'twere well you would see her.
Row.
If you please sir;
I am not squeamish of my visitation.
Petron.
But, this ile tell you, she is alter'd much,
You'l finde her now an other Livia.
Row.
I have enough o'th old sir.
Petron.
No more foole,
To look gay babies in your eyes yong Rowland,
And hang about your prety neck.
Row.
I am glad on't,
And thank my Fates I have scapd such execution.
Petron.
And busse you till you blush againe.
Row.
Thats hard sir,
She must kisse shamefully ere I blush at it,
I never was so boyish; well, what followes?
Petron.
She's mine now, as I please to settle her,
At my command, and where I please to plant her:
Only she would take a kind of farwell of you,
And give you back a wandring vow or two,
You left in pawn; and two or three slight oaths
She lent you too, she looks for.
Row.
She shall have 'em
With all my heart sir, and if you like it better,
A free release in writing.
Petron.
Thats the matter,
And you from her, you shall have an other Rowland,
And then turne taile to taile, and peace by with you.
Row.
So be it: your twenty pound sweats Tranio.
Tra.
'Twill not undoe me Rowland, do your worst.
Row.
Come, shall we see her Sir?
By.
What ere she saies
You must beare manly Rowland, for her sicknesse
Has made her somewhat teatish.
Row.
Let her talke
Till her tongue ake I care not: by this hand
Thou hast a handsome face wench, and a body
Daintely mounted; now do I feele an hundred
Runing directly from me, as I pist it.
Enter Livia discovered abed, and Moroso by her.
By.
pray draw 'em softly, the least hurry sir
-- 120 --
Puts her to much impatience.
Petron.
How is't daughter?
Liv.
O very sick, very sick, yet somewhat
Better I hope; a little lightsommer,
Because this goodman has forgiven me;
Pray set me higher; Oh my head:
Bya.
Wel done wench.
Liv.
Father, and all good people that shal heare me,
I have abus'd this man perniciously; was never old man humbled so;
I have scornd him, and cal'd him nasty names,
I have spit at him,
Flung Candles ends in's beard, and cald him harrow,
That must be drawn to all he dos: contemn'd him,
For me thought then he was a beastly fellow.
(Oh God my side) a very beastly fellow:
And gave it out, his cassock was a Barge-cloth,
Pawnd to his predecessor by a Sculler,
The man yet living: I gave him purging comfits
At a great christning once,
That spoyl'd his Chamblet breeches; and one night
I strewd the staires with pease, as he past down;
And the good Gentleman (woe worth me for't)
Ev'n with his reverent head, this head of wisdome,
Told two and twenty staires, good and true;
Mist not a step, and as we say verbatim
Fell to the bottome, broke his casting Bottle,
Lost a fair toad-stone of some eighteen shillings,
Jumbled his joynts together, had two stooles,
And was translated. All this villany
Did I: I Livia, I alone, untaught.
Mor.
And I unask'd, forgive it.
Liv.
Where's Byancha?
Bya.
Here Cozen.
Liv.
Give me drinke,
Bya.
There.
Liv.
Who's that?
Mor.
Rowland.
Liv.
O my dissembler, you and I must part.
Come neerer sir.
Row.
I am sorry for your sicknesse.
Liv.
Be sorry for your selfe sir, you have wrong'd me,
But I forgive you; are the papers ready?
Bya
I have 'em here: wilt please you view 'em?
Petron.
Yes.
Liv.
Shew 'em the young man too, I know he's willing
To shift his sailes too: tis for his more advancement;
Alas, we might have beggend one another;
We are young both, and a world of children
Might have been left behind to curse our follies:
We had been undone Byancha, had we married,
Undone for ever: I confesse I lov'd him,
I care not who shall know it, most intirely;
And once, upon my conscience, he lov'd me;
But farewell that, we must be wiser cosen.
Love must not leave us to the world: have you done?
Row.
Yes, and am ready to subscribe.
Liv.
Pray stay then:
Give me the papers, and let me peruse 'em,
And so much time, as may afford a teare
At our last parting.
Bya.
Pray retire, and leave her,
Ile call ye presently.
Petro.
Come Gentlemen, the showre must fall.
Row.
Would I had never seen her.
Bya.
Thou hast done bravely wench.
Liv.
Pray Heaven it prove so.
Bya.
There are the other papers: when they come
Begin you first, and let the rest subscribe
Hard by your side; give 'em as little light
As Drapers doe their wares.
Liv
Didst mark Moroso,
In what an agony he was, and how he cry'd most
When I abus'd him most?
Bya.
That was but reason.
Liv.
Oh what a stinking thief is this?
Though I was but to counterfeit, he made me
Directly sick indeed. Tames-street to him
Is a meere Pomander.
Bya.
Let him be hang'd.
Liv.
Amen.
Bya.
And lie you still.
And once more to your businesse.
Liv.
Call 'em in.
Now if there be a power that pities lovers,
Helpe now, and heare my prayers.
Enter Petronius, Rowland, Tranio, Moroso.
Petro.
Is she ready?
Bya.
She has done her lamentations: pray go to her.
Liv.
Rowland, come neer me, and before you seale,
Give me your hand: take it again; now kisse me,
This is the last acquaintance we must have;
I wish you ever happy: there's the paper.
Row.
Pray stay a little.
Petro.
Let me never live more
But I do begin to pity this young fellow;
How heartily he weeps!
Bya.
There's Pen and Inke sir.
Liv.
Ev'n here I pray you. Tis a little Emblem
How neere you have been to me.
Row.
There.
Bya.
Your hands too,
As witnesses.
Petro.
By any means
To th'booke sonne.
Mor.
With all my heart.
Bya.
You must deliver it.
Row.
There Livia, and a better love light on thee,
I can no more.
Bya.
To this you must be witnesse too.
Petro.
We wil.
Bya.
Doe you deliver it now.
Lyv.
Pray set me up;
There Rowland, all thy old love back: and may
A new to come exceed mine, and be happy.
I must no more.
Row.
Farewell:
Liv.
A long farewell.
Exit Rowl.
Bya.
Leave her by any means, till this wild passion
Be off her head; draw all the Curtaines close,
A day hence you may see her, twil be better,
She is now for little company.
Petro.
Pray tend her.
I must to horse straight: you must needs along too,
To see my sonne aboard; were but his wife
As fit for pity, as this wench, I were happy.
Bya.
Time must do that too: fare ye wel; to morrow
You shall receive a wife to quit your sorrow.
Exeunt.
Scæna secunda.
Enter Jaques, Pedro, and Porters, with Chest and Hampers.
Jaq.
Bring 'em away sirs.
Ped.
Must the great Trunks go too?
-- 121 --
Jaq.
Yes, and the Hampers; nay be speedy Masters;
He'l be at Sea before us else.
Ped.
O Jaques,
What a most blessed turn hast thou?
Jaq.
I hope so.
Ped.
To have the Sea between thee and this woman,
Nothing can drown her tongue, but a storm.
Jaq.
By your leave,
We'l get us up to Paris with all speed;
For on my soule, as far as Amyens
She'l carry blanke; away to Lyon key
And ship 'em presently, we'l follow ye.
Ped.
Now could I wish her in that Trunk:
Jaq
God shield man,
I had rather have a Beare in't.
Ped.
Yes, Ile tell ye:
For in the passage if a Tempest take ye,
As many doe, and you lie beating for it,
Then, if it pleas'd the fates, I would have the Master
Out of a powerfull providence, to cry,
Lighten the ship of all hands, or we perish;
Then this for one, as best spar'd, should by all means
Over-board presently.
Jaq.
O' that condition,
So we were certaine to be rid of her,
I would wish her with us: But believe me Pedro,
She would spoyle the fishing on this coast for ever,
For none would keepe her company, but Dog-fish,
As currish as herselfe; or Porpisces,
Made to all fatal uses: The two Fish-streets
Were she but once ariv'd amongst the Whitings,
Would sing a wofull misereri Pedro,
And mourn in poor John, till her memory
Were cast o' shore agen, with a strong Sea-breach:
She would make god Neptune, and his fire-forke,
And all his demi-gods, and goddesses,
As weary of the Flemmish channell Pedro,
As ever boy was of the schoole: tis certain,
If she but meet him faire, and were wel angred,
She would break his god-head.
Ped.
Oh her tongue, her tongue.
Jaq.
Rather her many tongues.
Ped.
Or rather strange tongues.
Jaq.
Her lying tongue.
Ped.
Her lisping tongue.
Jaq.
Her long tongue.
Ped.
Her lawlesse tongue.
Jaq.
Her loud tongue.
Ped.
And her lickrish—
Jaq.
Many other tongues, and many stranger tongues
Then ever Babel had to tell his ruines,
Were women rais'd withall; but never a true one.
Enter Sophocles.
Soph.
Home with your stuffe agen; the journeys ended.
Jaq.
What do's your worship meane?
Soph.
Your Master, O Petruchio, O poore fellows.
Ped.
O Jaques, Jaques.
Soph.
O your Master's dead,
His body comming back; his wife, his devil;
The griefe of—her
Jaq.
Has kild him?
Soph.
Kild him, kild him.
Ped.
Is there no law to hang her.
Soph.
Get ye in,
And let her know her misery, I dare not
For feare impatience seize me, see her more,
I must away agen: Bid her for wise-hood,
For honesty, if she have any in her,
Even to avoyd the shame that follows her.
Cry if she can: your weeping cannot mend it.
The body wil be here within this houre, so tell her;
And all his friends to curse her. Farewell fellowes.
Exit Soph.
Ped.
O Jaques, Jaques.
Jaq.
O my worthy Master.
Ped.
O my most beastly Mistris, hang her.
Jaq.
Split her.
Ped.
Drown her directly.
Jaq.
Starve her.
Ped.
Stinke upon her.
Jaq.
Stone her to death: may all she eate be Eggs,
Till she run kicking mad for men.
Ped.
And he,
That man, that gives her remedy, pray Heav'n
He may ev'n ipso facto, lose his longings.
Jaq.
Let's goe discharge our selves, and he that serves her,
Or speaks a good word of her from this houre,
A seagly curse light on him, which is, Pedro;
The feind ride through him booted, and spurd, with a Sythe at's back.
Exeunt.
Scena tertia.
Enter Rowland, and Tranio stealing behind him:
Row.
What a dull asse was I to let her go thus?
Upon my life she loves me still: wel Paper,
Thou onely monument of what I have had,
Thou all the love now left me, and now lost,
Let me yet kisse her hand, yet take my leave
Of what I must leave evert Farewell Livia.
Oh bitter words, Ile read ye once again,
And then for ever study to forget ye.
How's this? let me look better on't: A Contract?
—a Contract, seal'd, and ratified,
Her fathers hand set to it, and Moroso's:
I do not dream sure, let me read again,
The same still: tis a contract.
Tra.
Tis so Rowland;
And by the vertue of the same, you pay me
An hundred pound to morrow.
Row.
Art sure Tranio,
We are both alive now?
Tra.
Wonder not, ye have lost.
Row.
If this be true, I grant it.
Tra.
Tis most certaine,
There's a Ring for you to, you know it.
Row.
Yes.
Tra.
When shall I have my money?
Row.
Stay ye, stay ye,
When shall I marry her?
Tra.
To night.
Row.
Take heed now
You do not trifle me; if you doe,
You'l finde more payment, then your money comes to:
Come sweare; I know I am a man, and finde
I may deceive my selfe: Sweare faithfully,
Sweare me directly, am I Rowland?
Tra.
Yes.
Row.
Am I awake?
Tra.
Ye are.
Row.
Am I in health?
Tra.
As far as I conceive.
Row.
Was I with Livia?
Tra.
You were, and had his contract.
Rew.
And shall I enjoy her?
-- 122 --
Tra.
Yes, if ye dare.
Row.
Sweare to all these.
Tra.
I will.
Row.
As thou art honest, as thou hast a conscience,
As that may wring thee if thou lyest; all these
To be no vision, but a truth, and serious.
Tra.
Then by my honesty, and faith, and conscience;
All this is certaine.
Row.
Let's remove our places.
Sweare it again.
Tra.
By—tis true.
Row.
I have lost then, and Heaven knows I am glad out.
Let's goe, and tell me all, and tell me how,
For yet I am a Pagan in it.
Tra.
I have a Priest too,
And all shall come as even as two Testers.
Exeunt.
Scæna Quarta.
Enter Petronius, Sophocles, Moroso, and Petruchio born in a Coffin.
Petron.
Set down the body, and one call her out.
Enter Maria in blacke, and Jaques.
You are welcome to the last cast of your fortunes;
There lies your husband, there your loving husband,
There he that was Petruchio, too good for ye;
Your stubborn, and unworthy way has kild him
Ere he could reach the Sea; if ye can weep,
Now ye have cause begin, and after death
Do something yet to th'world, to thinke ye honest.
So many teares had sav'd him, shed in time;
And as they are (so a good mind goe with 'em)
Yet they may move compassion.
Mar.
Pray ye all heare me,
And judge me as I am, not as you covet,
For that would make me ye more miserable:
Tis true, I have cause to grieve, and mighty cause;
And truely and unfainedly I weep it.
Soph.
I see there's some good nature yet left in her.
Mar.
But what's the cause? mistake me not, not this man,
As he is dead, I weep for; Heaven defend it,
I never was so childish: but his life,
His poore unmanly wretched foolish life,
Is that my full eyes pity, there's my mourning.
Petron.
Dost thou not shame?
Mar.
I do, and even to water,
To think what this man was, to think how simple,
How far below a man, how far from reason,
From common understanding, and all Gentry,
While he was living here he walkt amongst us.
He had a happy turn he dyed; ile tell ye,
These are the wants I weep for, not his person:
The memory of this man, had he liv'd
But two yeers longer, had begot more follies,
Then wealthy Autumne flyes: But let him rest,
He was a foole, and farewell he; not pitied,
I meane in way of life, or action
By any understanding man that's honest;
But onely in's posterity, which I
Out of the feare his ruines might out live him
In some bad issue, like a carefull woman,
Like one indeed born onely to preserve him,
Denyd him meanes to raise.
Petru.
Unbutton me,
—I die indeed else? O Maria,
Oh my unhappinesse, my misery.
Petron.
Go to him whore;—if he perish,
Ile see thee hang'd my selfe.
Petru.
Why, why Maria.
Mar.
I have done my worst, and have my end, forgive me;
From this houre make me what you please: I have tam'd ye,
And now am vowd your servant: Look not strangly,
Nor fear what I say to you. Dare you kisse me?
Thus I begin my new love.
Petru.
Once againe?
Mar.
With all my heart.
Petru.
Once again Maria
O Gentlemen, I know not where I am.
Soph.
Get ye to bed then: there you'l quickly know sir.
Petru.
Never no more your old tricks?
Mar.
Never sir.
Petru.
You shall not need, for as I have a faith
No cause shall give occasion.
Mar.
As I am honest,
And as I am a maid yet, all my life
From this houre since, since ye make so free profession,
I dedicate in service to your pleasure.
Soph.
I marry, this goes roundly off.
Petru.
Go Jaques,
Get all the best meat may be bought for money,
And let the hogsheds blood, I am born again:
Well little England, when I see a husband
Of any other Nation stern or jealous,
Ile wish him but a woman of thy breeding,
And if he have not butter to thy bread,
Till thy teeth bleed, ile never trust my travell.
Enter Rowland, Livia, Byancha, and Tranio.
Petro.
What have we here?
Row.
Another morris, sir.
That you must pipe too.
Tra.
A poore married couple
Desire an offering sir.
Bya.
Never frown at it,
You cannot mend it now: there's your own hand;
And yours Moroso, to confirme the bargaine.
Petron.
My hand?
Mor.
Or mine?
Bya.
You'l finde it so.
Petron.
A trick,
By—a trick.
Bya.
Yes sir, we trickt ye.
Liv.
Father.
Petro.
Hast thou lyen with him? speake?
Liv.
Yes truly sir.
Petro.
And hast thou done the deed boy?
Row.
I have done sir,
That, that will serve the turne, I think.
Petru.
A match then,
Ile be the maker up of this: Moroso,
There's now no remedy you see, be willing;
For be, or be not, he must have the wench.
Mor.
Since I am over-reach'd, let's in to dinner,
And if I can Ile drink't away.
Tra.
That's wel said.
Petro.
Well sirha, you have playd a tricke, look to't,
And let me be a grandsire within's twelve moneth,
Or by this hand, Ile curtaile halfe your fortunes.
Row.
There shall not want my labour sir: your money;
Here's one has undertaken.
Tra.
Well, Ile trust her,
And glad I have so good a pawn.
Row.
Ile watch ye.
Petru.
Lets in, and drink of all hands, and be joviall:
I have my colt again, and now she carries;
And Gentlemen, whoever marries next,
Let him be sure he keep him to his Text.
Exeunt.
