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.
Scæna 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.]
Scæna 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.