Enter Petruchio, and Sophocles.
Soph. Not let you touch her all this night?
Petru. Not touch her.
Soph. Where was your courage?
Petru. Where was her obedience?
Never poor Man was sham'd so; never Rascal
That keeps a stud of Whores was us'd so basely.
Soph. Pray you tell me one thing truly;
Do you love her?
Petru. I would I did not, upon that condition
I past thee half my Land.
Soph. It may be then,
Her modesty requir'd a little violence?
Some Women love to struggle.
Petru. She had it,
And so much that I sweat for't, so I did,
But to no end: I washt an Ethiope;
She swore my force might weary her, but win her
I never could, nor should, till she consented;
And I might take her body prisoner,
But for her mind or appetite—
Soph. 'Tis strange;
This woman is the first I ever read of,
Refus'd a warranted occasion,
And standing on so fair termes.
Petru. I shall quit her.
Soph. Us'd you no more art?
Petru. Yes, I swore to her,
And by no little ones, if presently
Without more disputation on the matter,
She grew not nearer to me, and dispatcht me
Out of the [pain] I was, for I was nettl'd,
And willingly, and eagerly, and sweetly,
I would to her Chamber-maid, and in her hearing
Begin her such a huntes-up.
Soph. Then she started?
Petru. No more than I do now; marry she answered
If I were so dispos'd, she could not help it;
But there was one call'd Jaques, a poor Butler
One that might well content a single woman.
Soph. And he should tilt her.
Petru. To that sence, and last
She bad me yet these six nights look for nothing
Nor strive to purchase it, but fair good night
And so good morrow, and a kiss or two
To close my stomach, for her vow had seal'd it,
And she would keep it constant.
Soph. Stay ye, stay ye,
Was she thus when you woo'd her?
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.
Scæna 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.
Scæna 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.