Part 6

_Mar._ Nev'r doubt, Sir, You cannot want companions for your good: I am sure you'll kiss me e'r I go; I have business, And stay long here I must not.

_Petru._ Get thee going. For if thou tarriest but another Dialogue I'll kick thee to thy Chamber.

_Mar._ Fare you well, Sir, And bear your self, 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 travel, Nothing should make me leave you else, I'll deal 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 Devil, That was your first good Master, showre 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_ I'll 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 fair aboard: Then women, if there be a storm at Sea, Worse than your tongues can make, and waves more broken, Than your dissembling faiths are, let me feel Nothing but tempests, till they crack my Keel. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scaena Prima._

_Enter_ Petronius, _and_ Byancha, _with four papers_.

_By._ Now whether I deserve that blame you gave me, Let all the world discern, Sir.

_Petro._ If this motion, (I mean this fair repentance of my Daughter) Spring from your good perswasion, as it seems so, I must confess 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 counsel, And comfort in this case, could not so heal her But that grief got his share too, and she sick'ned.

_Petro._ I am sorry she's so ill, yet glad her sickness Has got so good a ground.

_Enter_ Moroso.

_By._ Here comes _Moroso_.

_Petro._ Oh, you are very welcome, Now you shall know your happiness.

_Mor._ I am glad on't. What makes this Lady here?

_By._ A dish for you, Sir You'll thank me for hereafter.

_Petro._ True _Moroso_, Go get you in, and see your Mistriss.

_By._ She is sick, Sir, But you may kiss her whole.

_Mor._ How.

_By._ Comfort her.

_Mor._ Why am I sent for, Sir?

_Petro._ 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.

_Petro._ Get you in fool. [_Exit_ Mor.

_Bya._ Here comes the other too.

_Enter_ Rowland _and_ Tranio.

_Petro._ Now _Tranio_. Good ev'n to you too, and you are welcome.

_Row._ Thank you.

_Petro._ I have a certain Daughter.

_Row._ Would you had, Sir.

_Petro._ 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 certain path After a deep fall'n Snow.

_Petro._ Well, that's by th' by still. This Daughter that I tell you of, is fall'n A little crop sick, with the dangerous surfeit She took of your affection.

_Row._ Mine Sir?

_Petro._ Yes Sir. Or rather, as it seems, repenting. And there she lies within, debating on't.

_Row._ Well Sir.

_Petro._ I think 'twere well you would see her.

_Row._ If you please, Sir; I am not squeamish of my visitation.

_Petron._ But, this I'll tell you, she is alter'd much, You'll find her now another _Livia_.

_Row._ I have enough o' th' old, Sir.

_Petro._ No more fool, To look gay babies in your eyes young _Rowland_, And hang about your pretty neck.

_Row._ I am glad on't, And thank my Fates I have scap'd such execution.

_Petron._ And buss you till you blush again.

_Row._ That's hard, Sir; She must kiss shamefully e're I blush at it, I never was so boyish; well, what follows?

_Petro._ 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 farewel 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.

_Petro._ That's the matter, And you from her, [you] shall have another _Rowland_, And then turn tail to tail, and peace be 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?

_Bya._ What e'er she saies You must bear manly _Rowland_, for her sickness Has made her somewhat [teatish.]

_Row._ Let her talk Till her tongue ake, I care not: by this hand Thou hast a handsome face wench, and a body Daintily mounted; now do I feel an hundred Running directly from me, as I pist it.

_Enter_ Livia _discovered abed_, _and_ Moroso _by her_.

_Bya._ Pray draw 'em softly, the least hurry, Sir, Puts her to much impatience.

_Petro._ How is't daughter?

_Liv._ Oh very sick, very sick, yet somewhat Better I hope; a little lightsomer, Because this good man has forgiven me; Pray set me higher; oh my head:

_Bya._ Well done wench.

_Liv._ Father, and all good people that shall hear me, I have abus'd this man perniciously; was never old man humbled so; I have scorn'd him, and call'd him nasty names, I have spit at him, Flung Candles ends in's beard, and call'd him harrow, That must be drawn to all he does: contemn'd him, For methought then, he was a beastly fellow. (Oh [God] my side) a very beastly fellow: And gave it out, his Cassock was a Barge-cloth, Pawn'd to his predecessor by a Sculler, The man yet living: I gave him purging comfits At a great Christning once, That spoil'd his Chamblet breeches; and one night I strew'd the stairs with pease, as he past down; And the good Gentleman (woe worth me for't) Ev'n with this reverend head, this head of wisdom, Told two and twenty stairs, good and true; Mist not a step, and as we say, _verbatim_ Fell to the bottom, broke his casting Bottle, Lost a fair Toad-stone, of some eighteen shillings, Jumbled his Joynts together, had two stools, 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 Cosin.

_Liv._ Give me drink.

_Bya._ There.

_Liv._ Who's that?

_Mor._ _Rowland._

_Liv._ Oh my dissembler, you and I must part. Come nearer, Sir.

_Row._ I am sorry for your sickness.

_Liv._ Be sorry for your self, Sir, you have wrong'd me, But I forgive you; are the Papers ready?

_Bya._ I have 'em here: wilt please you view 'em?

_Petro._ Yes.

_Liv._ Shew 'em the young man too, I know he's willing To shift his sails too: 'tis for his more advancement; Alas, we might have begger'd 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 confess I lov'd him, I care not who shall know it, most intirely; And once, upon my conscience, he lov'd me; But farewel that, we must be wiser, cosin, 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 tear At our last parting.

_Bya._ Pray retire, and leave her, I'll call ye presently.

_Petro._ Come Gentlemen, the showre must fall.

_Row._ Would I had never seen her. [_Exeunt._

_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 do 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. _Thames-street_ to him Is a meer Pomander.

_Bya._ Let him be hang'd.

_Liv._ _Amen._

_Bya._ And lie you still; And once more to your business.

_Liv._ Call 'em in. Now if there be a power that pities Lovers, Help now, and hear my prayers.

_Enter_ Petronius, Rowland, Tranio, Moroso.

_Petro._ Is she ready?

_Bya._ She has done her lamentations: pray go to her.

_Liv._ _Rowland_, come near me, and before you seal, Give me your hand: take it again; now kiss 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 Ink, Sir.

_Liv._ Ev'n here I pray you. 'Tis a little _Emblem_ How near you have been to me.

_Row._ There.

_Bya._ Your hands too, As witnesses.

_Petro._ By any means To th' Book son.

_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 witness too.

_Petro._ We will.

_Bya._ Do you deliver it now.

_Liv._ 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._ Farewel:

_Liv._ A long farewel. [_Exit_ Row.

_Bya._ Leave her by any means, till this wild passion Be off her head: draw all the Curtains close, A day hence you may see her, 'twill 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 son aboard: were but his wife As fit for pity, as this wench, I were happy.

_Bya._ Time must do that too: fare ye well: to morrow You shall receive a wife to quit your sorrow. [_Exeunt._

_Scaena Secunda._

_Enter_ Jaques, Pedro, _and Porters, with Chest and Hampers_.

_Jaq._ Bring 'em away Sirs.

_Ped._ Must the great Trunks go too?

_Jaq._ Yes, and the Hampers; nay, be speedy Masters; He'll be at Sea before us else.

_Ped._ Oh _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'll get us up to _Paris_ with all speed; For on my soul, as far as _Amiens_ She'll carry blank, away to _Lyon-key_ And ship 'em presently, we'll follow ye.

_Ped._ Now could I wish her in that Trunk:

_Jaq._ God shield man, I had rather have a Bear in't.

_Ped._Yes, I'll 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 powerful 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 certain to be rid of her, I would wish her with us, but believe me _Pedro_, She would spoil the fishing on this coast for ever. For none would keep her company but Dog-fish, As currish as her self; or Porpisces, Made to all fatal uses: The two Fish-streets Were she but once arriv'd amongst the Whitings, Would sing a woful _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-fork, And all his demi-gods, and goddesses, As weary of the _Flemmish Channel_, _Pedro_, As ever boy was of the School, 'tis certain, If she but meet him fair, and were well 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 lawless tongue.

_Jaq._ Her loud tongue.

_Ped._ And her liquorish--

_Jaq._ Many other tongues, and many stranger tongues Than ever _Babel_ had to tell his ruines, Were Women rais'd withal; but never a true one.

_Enter_ Sophocles.

_Soph._ Home with your stuff agen, the journey's ended.

_Jaq._ What does your worship mean?

_Soph._ Your Master, Oh _Petruchio_, oh poor fellows.

_Ped._ Oh _Jaques, Jaques_.

_Soph._ Oh your Master's dead, His body coming back, his wife, his devil; The grief of ---- her.

_Jaq._ Has kill'd him?

_Soph._ Kill'd him, kill'd him.

_Ped._ Is there no Law to hang her.

_Soph._ Get ye in, And let her know her misery, I dare not For fear impatience seize me, see her more, I must away agen: Bid her for wife-hood, For honesty, if she have any in her, Even to avoid the shame that follows her. Cry if she can, your weeping cannot mend it. The body will be here within this hour, so tell her; And all his friends to curse her. Farewel fellows. [_Exit_ Soph.

_Ped._ Oh _Jaques, Jaques_.

_Jaq._ Oh my worthy Master.

_Ped._ Oh my most beastly Mistriss, hang her.

_Jaq._ Split her.

_Ped._ Drown her directly.

_Jaq._ Starve her.

_Ped._ Stink upon her.

_Jaq._ Stone her to death: may all she eat 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 go discharge our selves, and he that serves her, Or speaks a good word of her from this hour, A Sedgly curse light on him, which is, _Pedro_; The Fiend ride through him booted, and spurr'd, with a Sythe at's back. [_Exeunt._

_Scaena Tertia._

_Enter_ Rowland, _and_ Tranio _stealing behind him_.

_Row._ What a dull ass was I to let her go thus! Upon my life she loves me still: well Paper, Thou only monument of what I have had, Thou all the love now left me, and now lost, Let me yet kiss her hand, yet take my leave Of what I must leave ever: Farewel _Livia_. Oh bitter words, I'll 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 virtue 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 certain, There's a Ring for you too, 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 do, You'll find more payment, than your money comes to: Come swear; I know I am a man, and find I may deceive my self: swear faithfully, Swear 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 this Contract.

_Row._ And shall I enjoy her?

_Tra._ Yes, if ye dare.

_Row._ Swear to all these.

_Tra._ I will.

_Row._ As thou art honest, as them hast a conscience, As that may wring thee if thou liest; all these To be no vision, but a truth, and serious.

_Tra._ Then by my honesty, and faith, and conscience; All this is certain.

_Row._ Let's remove our places. Swear it again.

_Tra._ By ---- 'tis true.

_Row._ I have lost then, and Heaven knows I am glad on't. 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._

_Scaena Quarta._

_Enter_ Petronius, Sophocles, Moroso, _and_ Petruchio _born in a Coffin_.

_Petro._ Set down the body, and one call her out.

_Enter_ Maria _in black, 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 kill'd him E'er he could reach the Sea; if ye can weep, Now ye have cause begin, and after death Doe something yet to th' world, to think ye honest. So many tears had say'd him, shed in time; And as they are (so a good mind go with 'em) Yet they may move compassion.

_Mar._ Pray ye all hear me, And judge me as I am, not as you covet, For that would make me yet more miserable: 'Tis true, I have cause to grieve, and mighty cause; And truly and unfeinedly 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 poor unmanly, wretched, foolish life, Is that my full eyes pity, there's my mourning.

_Petro._ Dost thou not shame?

_Mar._ I doe, 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 walk'd amongst us. He had a happy turn he dyed; I'll tell ye, These are the wants I weep for, not his person: The memory of this man, had he liv'd But two years longer, had begot more follies, Than wealthy Autumn Flies. But let him rest, He was a fool, and farewel he; not pitied, I mean in way of life, or action By any understanding man that's honest; But only in's posterity, which I, Out of the fear his ruines might out-live him, In some bad issue, like a careful woman, Like one indeed, born only to preserve him, Deny'd him means to raise.

_Petru._ Unbutton me, --I die indeed else! Oh _Maria_, Oh my unhappiness, my misery.

_Petro._ Goe to him whore; ---- if he perish, I'll see thee hang'd my self.

_Petru._ Why, why _Maria_?

_Mar._ I have done my worst, and have my end, forgive me; From this hour make me what you please: I have tam'd ye, And now am vow'd your servant: Look not strangely, Nor fear what I say to you. Dare you kiss me? Thus I begin my new love.

_Petru._ Once again?

_Mar._ With all my heart.

_Petru._ Once again _Maria_, Oh Gentlemen, I know not where I am.

_Soph._ Get ye to bed then: there you'll 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 hour, since ye make so free profession, I dedicate in service to your pleasure.

_Soph._ I marry, this goes roundly off.

_Petru._ Goe _Jaques_, Get all the best meat may be bought for money, And let the hogsheads blood, I am born again: Well little _England_, when I see a Husband Of any other Nation, stern or jealous, I'll wish him but a woman of thy breeding; And if he have not butter to his bread, Till his teeth bleed, I'll never trust my travel.

_Enter_ Rowland, Livia, Byancha, _and_ Tranio.

_Petro._ What have we here?

_Row._ Another Morris, Sir. That you must pipe too.

_Tra._ A poor 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 confirm the bargain.

_Petron._ My hand?

_Mor._ Or mine?

_Bya._ You'll find it so.

_Petro._ A trick, By ---- a trick.

_Bya._ Yes Sir, we trickt ye.

_Liv._ Father.

_P[e]tro._ Hast thou lain with him? speak!

_Liv._ Yes truly Sir.

_Petro._ And hast thou done the deed, boy?

_Row._ I have [done], Sir, That, that will serve the turn, I think.

_Petru._ A match then, I'll be the maker up of this: _Moroso_, There's now no remedy you see, be willing; [F]or 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, I'll drink't away.

_Tra._ That's well said.

_Petro._ Well sirrah, you have plaid a trick, look to't, And let me be a Grandsire within's twelve-month, Or by this hand, I'll curtail half your fortunes.

_Row._ There shall not want my labour, Sir: your money; Here's one has undertaken.

_Tra._ Well, I'll trust her, And glad I have so good a pawn.

_Row._ I'll watch ye.

_Petru._ Let's in, and drink of all hands, and be jovial: 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._

EPILOGUE.

_The_ Tamer_'s_ tam'd, _but so, as nor the men Can find one just cause to complain of, when They fitly do consider in their lives, They should not reign as Tyrants o'er their wives. Nor can the Women from this president Insult, or triumph; it being aptly meant, To teach both Sexes due equality; And as they stand bound, to love mutually. If this effect arising from a cause Well laid, and grounded, may deserve applause, We something more than hope, our honest ends Will keep the Men, and Women too, our friends._

THE ISLAND PRINCESS: A Tragi-Comedy.

The Persons represented in the Play.

King of _Sidore, an Island_. King of _Bakam_, } _Suitors to the Princess Quisara_. King of _Siana_, } Governor of _Terna, an Island_. _An ill man._ Ruy Dias, _a Captain of_ Portugal, _also suitor to the Prin_. Piniero, _Nephew to_ Ruy Dias, _a merry Captain_. Christophero, } _Soldiers and Friends to_ Piniero. Pedro, } Armusia, _a noble daring_ Portugueze, _in love with the Princess_. Soza, } _companions to_ Armusia, _and his valiant followers_. Emanuel, } Keeper. Moors. Guard. Captain. Citizens. Townsmen.

WOMEN.

Quisara, _the Island Princess, Sister to the King of_ Sidore. Quisa[n]a, _Aunt to the Princess_. Panura, _Waiting-woman to the Princess_ Quisara. Citizens _wives_.

The Scene India.

The Principal Actors were

_John Lowin_, _John Underwood_, _William Eglestone_, _Rich. Sharpe_, _Joseph Tailor_, _Robert Benfield_, _George Birch_, _Tho. Polard_.

_Actus Primus. Scaena Prima._

_A Bell Rings._

_Enter_ Pymero, Christophero, _and_ Pedro.

_Pymero._ Open the Ports, and see the Watch reliev'd, And let the guards be careful of their business, Their vigilant eyes fixt on these Islanders, They are false and desperate people, when they find The least occasion open to encouragement, Cruel, and crafty souls, believe me Gentlemen, Their late attempt, which is too fresh amongst us, In which, against all arms and honesty, The Governor of _Ternata_ made surprize Of our Confederate, the King of _Tidore_, As for his recreation he was rowing Between both Lands, bids us be wise and circumspect.

_Chr._ It was a mischief suddenly imagin'd, And as soon done; that Governor's a fierce knave, Unfaithful as he is fierce too, there's no trusting; But I wonder much, how such poor and base pleasures, As tugging at an Oar, or skill in Steerage, Should become Princes.

_Py._ Base breedings, love base pleasure; They take as much delight in a _Baratto_, A little scurvy boat to row her ti[th]ly, And have the Art to turn and wind her nimbly, Think it as noble too, though it be slavish, And a dull labour that declines a Gentleman: As we _Portugals_, or the _Spaniards_ do in riding, In managing a great horse, which is princely: The _French_ in Courtship, or the dancing _English_, In carrying a fair presence.