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.
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. Scæna 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.