Part 5

_Jaq._ Even the two Rundlets, The two that was our hope, of Muskadel, (Better nev'r tongue tript over) those two Cannons, To batter brawn withal at _Christmass_, Sir, Ev'n those two lovely Twyns, the Enemy Had almost cut off clean.

_Petru._ Goe trim the House up. And put the things in order as they were. [_Ex._ Ped. _and_ Jaq. I shall find time for all this: could I find her But constant any way, I had done my business; 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 shews all these, and all their losses, A kind of linsey woolsey, mingled mischief Not to be ghest at, and whether true, or borrowed,

_Enter_ Maria.

Not certain neither, What a hap had I, And what a tydie fortune, when my fate Flung me upon this Bear-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 find a something Certain, I Married for: her wit: I'll marke her.

_Mar._ Not let his Wife come near him in his sickness? Not come to comfort him? she that all Laws Of heaven, and Nations have ordain'd his second, Is she refus'd? and two old Paradoxes, Pieces of five and fifty, without faith Clapt in upon him? h'as a little pet, That all young Wives must follow necessary, Having their Maiden-heads--

_Petru._ This is an Axiome I never heard before.

_Mar._ Or say Rebellion, If we durst be so foul, which two fair words Alas win us from, in an hour, an instant, We are so easie, make him so forgetful 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 do know this falser than the Devil, I cannot choose but love it.

_Mar._ What do I know But those that came to keep him, might have kill'd him, In what a case had I been then? I dare not Believe him such a base, debosh'd companion, That one refusal of a tender Maid Would make him faign this Sickness out of need, And take a Keeper to him of Fourscore To play at _Billiards_; one that mew'd content And all her teeth together; not come near 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 unkind 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 thank 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 do it, love commands me, And my own duty charges me.

_Petru._ Heav'n bless me. And now I have said my Prayers, I'll go 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 appear so, I thank 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 look strangely on me, I dare tell you) With breach of honesty, care, kindness, 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 worshipful, If I should say Right worshipful, I ly'd not, My Grandsire was a Knight.

_Petru._ O'the Shire?

_Mar._ A Soldier, Which none of all thy Family e're heard of, 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-leech 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 worn, Almost their names away too.

_Petru._ Now hear 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 find it so, What ever you shall do 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 forswear your knowledge, But ever to forbear it: now your will Sir.

_Petru._ Thou art the subtlest Woman I think living, I am sure the lewdest; now be still, and mark me; Were I but any way addicted to the Devil, 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 spiteful Whore: Do you cry? I'll make you roare, before I leave.

_Mar._ Your pleasure.

_Petru._ Was it not sin 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 sin enough, and wickedness In full abundance? Was it not vexation At all points, _cap a pe_? nay, I shall pinch you, Thus like a rotten Rascal to abuse The name of Heaven, the tye of Marriage, The honour of thy Friends; the expectation Of all that thought thee virtuous, with Rebellion, Childish and base Rebellion, but continuing After forgiveness too, and worse, your mischief, And against him, setting the hope of Heaven by, And the dear reservation of his honor Nothing above ground could have won to hate thee: Well, goe thy wayes.

_Mar._ Yes.

_Petru._ You shall hear me out first: What punishment may'st thou deserve, thou thing, Thou Idle thing of nothing, thou pull'd Primrose, That two hours 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 near 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 self forsooth: do'st hear 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 tears farewell: the first stroke, The very first you give me, if you dare strike, Try me, and you shall find it so, for ever, Never to be recall'd: I know you love me, Mad till you have enjoy'd me; I do turne Utterly from you, and what Man I meet first That has but spirit to deserve a favour, Let him bear any shape, the worse the better. Shall kill you, and enjoy me; what I have said About your foolish sickness, e're you have me As you would have me, you shall swear, is certain, And challenge any Man, that dares deny it; And in all companies approve my actions, And so farewell for this time. [_Ex._ Mar.

_Petru._ Grief goe with thee, If there be any witchcrafts, herbes, or potions, Saying my Prayers backward, Fiends, or Fayries That can again unlove me, I am made. [_Exit._

_Scaena Secunda._

_Enter_ Byancha, _and_ Tranio.

_Tra._ Mistress, you must do 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 Ass, you must have all things constru'd.

_Tra._ Yes, and pierc'd too, Or I find 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 hours, if we cross it not, And see the Papers of one size.

_Tra._ I have ye.

_By._ And for disposing of 'em.

_Tra._ If I fail you Now I have found the way, use Marshal Law And cut my head off with a hand Saw:

_By._ Well Sir. _Petronius_ and _Moroso_ I'll see sent for, About your business; goe.

_Tra._ I am gone. [_Ex._ Tra.

_Enter_ Livia.

_By._ Ho _Livia_.

_Liv._ Who's that?

_By._ A friend of yours, Lord how you look now, As if you had lost a Carrack.

_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 do more: thou fear'st _Moroso_.

_Liv._ Even as I fear the Gallowes.

_By._ Keep thee there still. And you love _Rowland_? say.

_Liv._ If I say not, I am sure I lye.

_By._ What wouldst thou give that Woman, In spight of all his anger, and thy fear, And all thy Fathers policy, that could Clap ye within these two nights quietly Into a Bed together?

_Liv._ How?

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

_Liv._ _Byancha_, Methinks you should not mock me.

_By._ Mock a pudding. I speak good honest _English_, and good meaning.

_Liv._ I should not be ungrateful to that Woman.

_By._ I know thou would'st not, follow but my Councel, And if thou hast him not, despite 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 sickness send for all your friends, Your Father, and your feaver old _Moroso_, And _Rowland_ shall be there too.

_Liv._ What of these?

_By._ Do you not twitter yet? of this shall follow That which shall make thy heart leap, 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 do believe you: and I am sick.

_By._ Doe, To bed then, come, I'll send away your Servants Post for your Fool, and Father; and good fortune, As we meane honesty, now strike an up-shot. [_Ex[e]unt._

_Scaena Tertia._

_Enter_ Tranio, _and_ Rowland.

_Tra._ Nay, on my conscience, I have lost my Money, But that's all one: I'll never more perswade you, I see you are resolute, and I commend you.

_Row._ But did she send for me?

_Tra._ You dare believe me.

_Row._ I cannot tell, you have your wayes 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?

_Ser._ O sir my Master, Pray did you see my Master?

_Row._ Why your Master?

_Ser._ Sir his Jewel.

_Row._ With the gilded Button?

_Serv._ My pretty Mistress _Livia_.

_Row._ What of her?

_Serv._ Is falen sick o'th suddain.

_Row._ How o'th sullens?

_Ser._ O'th suddain Sir, I say, very sick:

_Row._ It seems she hath got the toothach with raw Apples.

_Ser._ 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. [_Ex. Servant._ What should her sickness be?

_Tra._ For you it may be.

_Row._ Yes, when my braines are out, I may believe 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 fain be fing'ring This old sin-offring of two hundred, _Tranio_, How daintily, and cunningly you drive me Up like a Deer to'th toyle, yet I may leap it, And what's the Woodman then?

_Tra._ A loser by you. Speak, Will you go or not? to me 'tis equal.

_Row._ Come, What goes less?

_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 I'll require my wager then, For if you kiss so often, and no kindness, I have lost my speculation, I'll allow you--

_Row._ Speak like a Gamster now.

_Tra._ It may be two.

_Row._ Under a dozen _Tranio_, there's no setting, You shall have forty shillings, winck at small faults. Say I take twenty, come, by all that's honest I do it but to vex her.

_Tra._ I'll no by-blowes. 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 stubborn, if I forfeit, Make me a _Jack o' Lent_, and break my shins For untag'd Points and Compters: I'll goe with you, But if thou gett'st a penny by the bargain; A parting kiss is lawful?

_Tra._ I allow it.

_Row._ Knock out my brains with Apples; yet a bargain:

_Tra._ I tell you, I'll no bargains; win, and wear 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._

_Scaena 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 mischiefs she can lay upon me, I'll go to Plough [again], and eate Leeke Porridge; Begging's a pleasure to't, not to be number'd: No there be other Countries _Jaques_ 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 Sun, they say, Shines as warme there, as here, and till I have lost Either my self, or her, I care not whether Nor which first.

_Jaq._ Will your worship hear me?

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

_Jaq._ Out alas Sir. What a strange way doe you run!

_Petru._ Any way, So I out-run this Rascal.

_Jaq._ Me thinks now, If your good worship could but have the patience.

_Petru._ The patience, why the patience?

_Jaq._ Why I'll tell you, Could you but have the patience.

_Petru._ Well the patience.

_Jaq._ 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 neighbors warning of her Larme, As I do when my Wife rebels.

_Petru._ Thy Wife? Thy Wife's a Pigeon to her, a meere slumber, The dead of night's not stiller.

_Jaq._ Nor an Iron Mill.

_Petru._ But thy Wife is certain.

_Jaq._ That's false Doctrine, You never read of a certain Woman.

_Petru._ Thou know'st her way.

_Jaq._ I should doe, I am sure. I have ridden it night, and day, this twenty year.

_Petru._ But mine is such a drench of Balderdash, Such a strange carded cunningness, the Rayne-bow When she hangs bent in Heaven, sheds not her colours Quicker, and more, than this deceitful Woman

_Enter_ Ped.

Weaves in her dye's of wickedness: 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 mortal.

_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? Speak 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 speak to her, first she whistles, And then begins her compass with her fingers, And points to what she would have.

_Petru._ What new way's this?

_Ped._ There came in Master _Sophocles_.

_Petru._ And what Did Master _Sophocles_ when he came in? Get my Truncks ready, sirha, I'll be gone straight.

_Ped._ He's here to tell you She's horne mad _Jaques_.

_Enter_ Sophocles.

_Soph._ Call ye this a Woman?

_Petru._ Yes sir, she is a Woman.

_Soph._ Sir, I doubt it.

_Petru._ I had thought you had made 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, Believe me, I never kist her since, and now Coming in visitation, like a friend, I think 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 certain?

_Soph._ As I am here, Sir.

_Petru._ I believe you honest. And pray continue so.

_Enter_ Maria.

_Soph._ She comes.

_Petru._ Now Damsel, What will your beauty do if I forsake you? Do you deal by signs, and tokens? as I ghess then, You'll walk abroad, this Summer, and catch Captains, Or hire a piece of holy ground i' th' Suburbs, And keep a Nest of Nuns?

_Soph._ Oh do not stir her! You see in what a case she is?

_Petru._ She is dogged, And in a beastly case I am sure: I'll make her, If she have any tongue, yet tattle. _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 sense was, when I chose this thing.

_Soph._ I'll tell you I have seen a sweeter--

_Petru._ An hundred times cry Oisters. There's a poor Begger-wench about _Black-Fryers_ Runs on her breech, may be an Empress to her.

_Soph._ Nay, now you are too bitter.

_Petr[u]._ Nev'r a whit Sir: I'll tell thee woman; for now I have day to see thee, And all my wits about me, and I speak 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 took more trouble, Than twenty Terms can come to, such a cause, Of such a title, and so everlasting That _Adams_ Genealogie may be ended E'r any Law find thee: I took a Leprosie, Nay worse, the plague, nay worse yet, a possession And had the devil 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 darkness, wine from water, hunger From full satiety, and Fox from Fern-bush That would have married thee?

_Soph._ She is not so ill.

_Petru._ She's worse than I dare think of: she's so lewd; No Court is strong enough to bear her cause, She hath neither manners, honesty, behaviour, Wife-hood, nor woman-hood, nor any mortal Can force me think she had a mother: no I do believe her stedfastly, and know her To be a Woman-wolfe by transmigration, Her first forme was a Ferrets under-ground, 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 untie, and thus I loose it; The husband I am to her, thus I sever; My vanity farewel: yet, for you have been So near 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 ordain'd your Joynture, honestly You shall have setled on you: and half my house, The other half shall be imploy'd in prayers, (That meritorious charge I'll be at also Yet to confirm you _Christian_) your apparel, And what belongs to build up such a folly, Keep I beseech you, it infects our uses, And now I am for travel.

_Mar._ Now I love you, And now I see you are a man, I'll talke to you, And I forget your bitterness.

_Soph._ How now man?

_Petru._ Oh _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 virtuous?

_Petru._ She'll ship me.

_Mar._ A way of understanding I long wish'd for, And now 'tis come, take heed you fly not back Sir, Methinks 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 loss, 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 honor of your Countrey, 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. Than any private love, or wanton kisses. Go worthy man, and bring home understanding.

_Soph._ This were an excellent woman to breed School-men.

_Mar._ For if the Merchant through unknown Seas plough To get his wealth, then dear 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 meal a week will serve you, and one sute, Through all your travels: for you'll find it certain, The poorer and the baser you appear, The more you look through still.

_Petru._ Dost hear her?

_Soph._ Yes.

_Petru._ What would this woman do if she were suffer'd, Upon a new Religion?

_Soph._ Make us Pagans, I wonder that she writes not.

_Mar._ Then when time, And fulness of occasion have new made you, And squar'd you from a Sot into a Signior, Or nearer, from a Jade 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 does with one i'th' day, i'th' night Undoe it with another.

_Mar._ Much that way, Sir; For in your absence it must be my honor, That, that must make me spoken of hereafter, To have temptations, and not little ones Daily and hourly offered 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 travel, Did not you mean so?

_Petr._ Alas no, nothing less man: I did it but to try, Sir, she's the Devil, And now I find it, for she drives me; I must go: Are my trunks down there, and my horses ready?

_Mar._ Sir, for your house, and if you please to trust me With that you leave behind.

_Petru._ Bring down the money.

_Mar._ As I am able, and to my poor fortunes, I'll govern as a widow: I shall long To hear of your well-doing, and your profit: And when I hear not from you once a quarter, I'll wish you in the _Indies,_ or _Cata[ya]_, Those are the climes must make you.

_Petru._ How's the wind? She'll wish me out o'th' world anon.

_Mar._ For _France_. 'Tis very fair; 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._ Fare thee well, Thou hast fool'd me out o' th' Kingdom with a vengeance, And thou canst fool me in again.

_Mar._ Not I Sir, I love you better, take your time, and pleasure. I'll see you hors'd.

_Petru._ I think thou wouldst see me hanged too, Were I but half as willing.

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

_Petru._ You'll bear me to the Lands end, _Sophocles_, And other of my friends I hope.