Part 4

_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._

_Scaena Quarta._

_Enter_ Livia, Byancha, Tranio, _and_ Rowland.

_Liv._ Then I must be content, Sir, with my fortune.

_Row._ And I with mine.

_Liv._ I did not think, a look, Or a poor word or two, could have displanted Such a fix'd constancy, and for your end too.

_Row._ Come, come, I know your courses: there's your gew-gaws, 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._

_Scaena Quinta._

_Enter_ Jaques _and_ Pedro.

_Ped._ O _Jaques_, _Jaques_, What becomes of us? Oh my sweet Master.

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

_Ped._ I fly. [_Exit_ Pedro.

_Enter_ Maria, _and_ Servants.

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

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

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

_Jaq._ Then I'll go see him.

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

_Enter_ Sophocles, _and_ Petronius.

_Soph._ Why how now Lady, What means this?

_Petron._ Now daughter, How does my Son?

_Mar._ Save all you can for Heavens sake.

_Enter_ Livia, Byancha, _and_ Tranio.

_Liv._ Be of good comfort, Sister.

_Mar._ O my Casket.

_Petron._ How do's thy Husband Woman?

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

_Petron._ Stand further off, I prethee.

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

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

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

_Petron._ How long is't Since it first took him?

_Mar._ But within this three hours.

_Enter Watch._

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

_Tra._ This comes unlook'd for:

_Mar._ I'll to the lodge; some that are kind and love me, I know will visit me. [Petruchio _within._

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

_Petron._ 'Tis his voice.

_Tra._ Hold, and let's hear him.

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

_Petron._ Pray sir, pray.

_Petru._ I am as well as you are, goodman puppy.

_Mar._ Pray have patience. You shall want nothing Sir.

_Petru._ I want a cudgel, And thee, thou wickedness.

_Petron._ He speaks well enough.

_Mar._ 'Had ever a strong heart Sir.

_Petru._ Will ye hear me? First be pleas'd To think I know ye all, and can distinguish Ev'ry Mans several voice: you that spoke first, I know my father in law; the other _Tranio_, And I heard _Sophocles_; the last, pray mark me, 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. Scaena Prima._

_Enter_ Moroso _and_ Petronius.

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

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

_Mor._ Not so neither.

_Petron._ What wouldst thou have her do?

_Mor._ Do as she [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.

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

_Petro._ This is the spirit, that inspires 'em all.

_By._ Give you good ev'n.

_Petro._ A word with you Sweet Lady.

_By._ I am very hasty, Sir.

_Petro._ So you were ever.

_By._ Well, What's your will?

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

_By._ In's shutting up? Is that it?

_Petro._ Yes.

_By._ I'll tell you.

_Petro._ Doe.

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

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

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

_Petro._ What then Lady?

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

_Petro._ Pray stay.

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

_Petro._ By your appointment.

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

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

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

_Petro._ You have a hand I hear too.

_By._ I have two Sir.

_Petro._ In my young daughters business.

_By._ You will find there A fitter hand than mine, to reach her frets, And play down diddle to her.

_Petro._ I shall watch ye.

_By._ Do.

_Petro._ And I shall have Justice.

_By._ Where?

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

_By._ Get you a Posset too; and so good ev'n Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Petruchio, Jaques, _and_ Pedro.

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

_Ped._ And that that hung for our defence, the Armor, And the March Beere was going too: Oh _Jaques_ What a sad sight was that!