1 Sold. Is the Captain come home?
2 Sold. No, who commands the Guard to night?
1 Sold. I think Petruchio.
2 Sold. What's the Word?
1 Sold. None knows yet.
2 Sold. I would this Lady were married out o'th'way once,
Or out of our custodies; I wish they would take in more companies,
For I am sure we feel her in our duties shrewdly.
1 Sold. 'Tis not her fault I warrant ye, she is ready for't,
And that's the plague, when they grow ripe for marriage
They must be slipt like Hawkes.
2 Sold. Give me a mean wench,
No State doubt lies on her, she is alwayes ready.
1 Sold. Come to the Guard, 'tis late, and sure the Captain
Can not be long away.
2 Sold. I have watch'd these three nights,
To morrow they may keep me tame for nothing. [Exeunt.