FRANCIS BEAUMONT

Born 1584
Died 1616

JOHN FLETCHER

Born 1579
Died 1625

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER

THE WOMANS PRIZE
THE ISLAND PRINCESS
THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN
THE CORONATION
THE COXCOMB

THE TEXT EDITED BY

A. R. WALLER, M.A.

Cambridge:
at the University Press
1910

CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
C. F. CLAY, Manager

Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET
Berlin: A. ASHER AND CO.
Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS
New York: G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.

All Rights reserved.

CONTENTS

THE
WOMANS PRIZE,
OR
THE TAMER TAM'D.
A Comedy.

PROLOGUE.

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Moroso, Sophocles, and Tranio, with Rosemary, as from a wedding.

Mo.   God give 'em joy.

Tra.   Amen.

Soph.   Amen, say I too:
The pudding's now i'th' proof, alas poor wench.
Through what a mine of patience must thou work,
E'r thou know'st good hour more!

Tra.   'Tis too true: Certain,
Methinks her father has dealt harshly with her,
Exceeding harshly, and not like a Father,
To match her to this Dragon; I protest
I pity the poor Gentlewoman.

Mor.   Methinks now,
He's not so terrible as people think him.

Soph.   This old thief flatters, out of meer devotion,
To please the Father for his second daughter.

Tra.   But shall he have her?

Soph.   Yes, when I have Rome.
And yet the father's for him.

Mor.   I'll assure ye,
I hold him a good man.

Soph.   Yes sure a wealthy,
But whether a good womans man, is doubtful.

Tra.   Would 'twere no worse.

M[o]r.   What though his other wife,
Out of her most abundant soberness,
Out of her daily hue and cries upon him,
(For sure she was a rebel) turn'd his temper,
And forc'd him blow as high as she? dos't follow
He must retain that long since buried Tempest,
To this soft Maid?

Soph.   I fear it.

Tra.   So do I too:
And so far, that if God had made me woman,
And his wife that must be—

Mor.   What would you do, Sir?

Tra.   I would learn to eat coals with an angry Cat,
And spit fire at him: I would (to prevent him)
Do all the ramping, roaring tricks, a whore
Being drunk, and tumbling ripe, would tremble at:
There is no safety else, nor moral wisdom.
To be a wife, and his.

Soph.   So I should think too.

Tra.   For yet the bare remembrance of his first wife
(I tell ye on my knowledge, and a truth too)
Will make him start in's sleep, and very often
Cry out for Cudgels, Colestaves, any thing;
Hiding his breeches, out of fear her Ghost
Should walk, and wear 'em yet. Since his first marriage,
He is no more the still Petruchio,
Than I am Babylon.

Soph.   He's a good fellow,
And on my word I love him: but to think
A fit match for this tender soul—

Tra.   His very frown, if she but say her prayers
Louder than men talk treason, makes him tinder;
The motion of a Dial, when he's testy,
Is the same trouble to him as a Water-work;
She must do nothing of her self; not eat,
Drink, say Sir, how do ye? make her ready, unready,
Unless he bid her.

Soph.   He will bury her,
Ten pound to twenty shillings, within these three weeks.

Tra.   I'll be your half.

Enter Jaques with a pot of Wine.

Mor.   He loves her most extreamly,
And so long 'twill be Honey-moon. Now Jaques.
You are a busie man I am sure.

Jaq.   Yes certain,
This old sport must have eggs.

Sop.   Not yet this ten daies.

Jaq.   Sweet Gentlemen with Muskadel.

Tra.   That's right, Sir.

Mor.   This fellow broods his Master: speed ye Jaques.

Soph.   We shall be for you presently.

Jaq.   Your worships
Shall have it rich and neat: and o' my conscience
As welcome as our Lady-day: Oh my old Sir,
When shall we see your worship run at Ring?
That hour, a standing were worth money.

Mor.   So Sir.

Jaq.   Upon my little honesty, your Mistriss,
If I have any speculation, must think
This single thrumming of a Fiddle,
Without a Bow, but even poor sport.

Mor.   Y'are merry.

Ja.   Would I were wise too: so God bless your worship.

Tra.   The fellow tells you true. [Exit Jaq.

Soph.   When is the day man?
Come, come, you'll steal a marriage.

Mor.   Nay, believe me:
But when her Father pleases, I am ready,
And all my friends shall know it.

Tra.   Why not now?
One charge had serv'd for both.

Mor.   There's reason in't.

Soph.   Call'd Rowland—

Mor.   Will ye walk?
They'll think we are lost: Come Gentlemen.

Tra.   You have wip'd him now.

Soph.   So will he never the wench, I hope.

Tra.   I wish it. [Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Rowland and Livia.

Row.   Now Livia, if you'll go away to night,
If your affections be not made of words.

Liv.   I love you, and you know how dearly Rowland,
Is there none near us? my affections ever
Have been your servants; with what superstition
I have ever Sainted you—

Row.   Why then take this way.

Liv.   'Twill be a childish, and a less prosperous course,
Than his that knows not care: why should we do,
Our honest and our hearty love such wrong,
To over-run our fortunes?

Row.   Then you flatter.

Liv.   Alas, you know I cannot.

Ro[w].   What hope's left else
But flying to enjoy ye?

Liv.   None so far,
For let it be admitted, we have time,
And all things now in other expectation,
My father's bent against us; what but ruine,
Can such a by-way bring us? if your fears
Would let you look with my eyes, I would shew you,
And certain, how our staying here would win us
A course, though somewhat longer, yet far surer.

Row.   And then Moroso h'as ye.

Liv.   No such matter
For hold this certain, begging, stealing, whoring,
Selling (which is a sin unpardonable)
Of counterfeit Cods, or musty English Croacus;
Switches, or Stones for th' tooth-ache sooner finds me,
Than that drawn Fox Moroso.

Row.   But his money,
If wealth may win you—

Liv.   If a Hog may be
High Priest among the Jews? his money Rowland?
Oh Love forgive me, what faith hast thou?
Why, can his money kiss me?

Row.   Yes.

Liv.   Behind,
Laid out upon a Petticoat: or graspe me
While I cry, Oh good thank you? o'my troth
Thou mak'st me merry with thy fear: or lie with me.
As you may do? alas, what fools you men are?
His mouldy money? half a dozen Riders,
That cannot sit, but stampt fast to their Saddles?
No Rowland, no man shall make use of me;
My beauty was born free, and free I'll give it
To him that loves, not buys me. You yet doubt me.

Row.   I cannot say I doubt ye.

Liv.   Goe thy ways,
Thou art the prettiest puling piece of passion:
Y'faith I will not fail thee.

Row.   I had rather—

Liv.   Prethee believe me, if I do not carry it,
For both our goods—

Row.   But—

Liv.   What but?

Row.   I would tell you.

Liv.   I know all you can tell me; all's but this,
You would have me, and lie with me; is't not so?

Row.   Yes.

Liv.   Why you shall; will that content you? Goe.

Row.   I am very loth to goe.

Enter Byancha and Maria.

Liv.   Now o' my conscience
Thou art an honest fellow: here's my Sister;
Go, prethee go; this kiss, and credit me,
E'r I am three nights older, I am for thee:
You shall hear what I do.
Farewel.

Row.   Farewel. [Exit Rowland.

Liv.   Alas poor fool, how it looks!
It would ev'n hang it self, should I but cross it.
For pure love to the matter I must hatch it.

Bya.   Nay, never look for merry hour, Maria,
If now you make it not; let not your blushes,
Your modesty, and tenderness of spirit,
Make you continual Anvile to his anger:
Believe me, since his first wife set him going,
Nothing can bind his rage: Take your own council,
You shall not say that I perswaded you.
But if you suffer him—

Mar.   Stay, shall I do it?

Bya.   Have you a stomach to't?

Mar.   I never shew'd it.

Bya.   'Twill shew the rarer and the stronger in you.
But do not say I urg'd you.

Mar.   I am perfect,
Like Curtius, to redeem my Countrey, I have
Leap'd into this gulph of marriage, and I'll do it.
Farewel all poorer thoughts, but spight and anger,
Till I have wrought a miracle. Now cosin,
I am no more the gentle, tame Maria;
Mistake me not; I have a new soul in me
Made of a North wind, nothing but tempest;
And like a tempest shall it make all ruin,
Till I have run my Will out.

Bya.   This is brave now,
If you continue it; but your own Will lead you.

Mar.   Adieu all tenderness, I dare continue;
Maids that are made of fears, and modest blushes,
View me, and love example.

Bya.   Here is your Sister.

Mar.   Here is the brave old mans love.

Bya.   That loves the young man.

Mar.   I and hold thee there wench: what a grief of heart is't?
When Paphos Revels should rowze up old night,
To sweat against a Cork; to lie and tell
The clock o'th lungs, to rise sport starv'd?

Liv.   Dear Sister,
Where have you been, you talk thus?

Mar.   Why at Church, wench;
Where I am ti'd to talke thus: I am a wife now.

Liv.   It seems so, and a modest.

Mar.   You are an ass;
When thou art married once, thy modesty
Will never buy thee pins.

Liv.   'Bless me.

Mar.   From what?

Bya.   From such a tame fool as our cosin Livia?

Liv.   You are not mad.

Mar.   Yes wench, and so must you be,
Or none of our acquaintance: mark me Livia;
Or indeed fit for our sex: 'Tis bed time.
Pardon me yellow Hymen, that I mean
Thine offerings to protract, or to keep fasting
My valiant Bridegroom.

Liv.   Whither will this woman?

Bya.   You may perceive her end.

Liv.   Or rather fear it.

Mar.   Dare you be partner in't?

Liv.   Leave it Maria,
I fear I have mark'd too much, for goodness leave it;
Divest you with obedient hands, to bed.

Mar.   To bed? no Livia, there are Comets hang
Prodigious over that yet; there's a fellow
Must yet before I know that heat (ne'r start wench)
Be made a man, for yet he is a monster;
Here must his head be Livia.

Liv.   Never hope it.
'Tis as easie with a Sive to scoop the Ocean, as
To tame Petruchio.

Mar.   Stay: Lucina hear me,
Never unlock the treasure of my womb
For humane fruit, to make it capable;
Nor never with thy secret hand make brief
A mothers labor to me; if I do
Give way unto my married Husband's Will,
Or be a Wife in any thing but hopes,
Till I have made him easie as a child,
And tame as fear, he shall not win a smile,
Or a pleas'd look, from this austerity,
Though it would pull another Joynture from him,
And make him ev'ry day another man;
And when I kiss him, till I have my Will,
May I be barren of delights, and know
Only what pleasures are in dreams, and guesses.

Liv.   A strange Exordium.

Bya.   All the several wrongs
Done by Imperious Husbands to their Wives
These thousand years and upwards, strengthen thee:
Thou hast a brave cause.

Mar.   And I'll do it bravely,
Or may I knit my life out ever after.

Liv.   In what part of the world got she this spirit?
Yet pray Maria, look before you truly,
Besides the obedience of a wife;
Which you will find a heavy imputation,
Which yet I cannot think your own, it shews
So distant from your sweetness.

Mar.   'Tis I swear.

Liv.   Weigh but the person, and the hopes you have,
To work this desperate cure.

Mar.   A weaker subject
Would shame the end I aim at, disobedience.
You talk too tamely: By the faith I have
In mine own noble Will, that childish woman
That lives a prisoner to her Husbands pleasure,
Has lost her making, and becomes a beast,
Created for his use, not fellowship.

Liv.   His first wife said as much.

Mar.   She was a fool,
And took a scurvy course; let her be nam'd
'Mongst those that wish for things, but dare not do'em:
I have a new dance for him.

Liv.   Are you of this faith?

Bya.   Yes truly, and will die in't.

Liv.   Why then let's all wear breeches.

Mar.   Now thou com'st near the nature of a woman;
Hang these tame hearted Eyasses, that no sooner
See the Lure out, and hear their Husbands hollow,
But cry like Kites upon 'em: The free Haggard
(Which is that woman, that hath wing, and knows it,
Spirit and plume) will make an hundred checks,
To shew her freedom, sail in ev'ry air,
And look out ev'ry pleasure; not regarding
Lure, nor quarry, till her pitch command
What she desires, making her foundred keeper
Be glad to fling out trains, and golden ones,
To take her down again.

Liv.   You are learned, Sister;
Yet I say still take heed.

Mar.   A witty saying;
I'll tell thee Livia, had this fellow tired
As many wives as horses under him,
With spurring of their patience; had he got
A Patent, with an Office to reclaim us,
Confirm'd by Parliament; had he all the malice
And subtilty of Devils, or of us,
Or any thing that's worse than both.

Liv.   Hey, hey boys, this is excellent.

Mar.   Or could he
Cast his wives new again, like Bels, to make 'em
Sound to his Will; or had the fearful name
Of the first breaker of wild women: yet,
Yet would I undertake this man, thus single,
And, spight of all the freedom he has reach'd to,
Turn him and bend him as I list, and mold him
Into a babe again; that aged women,
W[a]nting both teeth and spleen, may Master him.

Bya.   Thou wilt be chronicl'd.

Mar.   That's all I aim at.

Liv.   I must confess, I do with all my heart
Hate an imperious Husband, and in time
Might be so wrought upon.

Bya.   To make him cuckold?

Mar.   If he deserve it.

Liv.   Then I'll leave ye Ladies.

Bya.   Thou hast not so much noble anger in thee.

Mar.   Go sleep, go sleep, what we intend to do,
Lies not for such starv'd souls, as thou hast Livia.

Liv.   Good night: the Bridegroom will be with you presently.

Mar.   That's more than you know.

Liv.   If ye work upon him,
As you have promised, ye may give example,
Which no doubt will be followed.

Mar.   So.

Bya.   Good night: we'll trouble you no further.

Mar.   If you intend no good, pray do no harm.

Liv.   None, but pray for you. [Exit Livia.

Bya.   Cheer wench.

Mar.   Now Byancha,
Those wits we have, let's wind 'em to the height.
My rest is up wench, and I pull for that
Will make me ever famous. They that lay
Foundations, are half-builders, all men say.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.   My Master forsooth.

Mar.   Oh how does thy Master? prethee commend me to him.

Jaq.   How's this? my Master stays forsooth.

Mar.   Why let him stay, who hinders him forsooth?

Jaq.   The Revel's ended now,
To visit you.

Mar.   I am not sick.

Jaq.   I mean to see his chamber forsooth.

Mar.   Am I his Groom? where lay he last night forsooth?

Ja[q].   In the low matted Parlour.

Mar.   There lies his way by the long Gallery.

Jaq.   I mean your chamber: y'are very merry Mistriss.

Mar.   'Tis a good sign I am sound hearted Jaques:
But if you'll know where I lie, follow me;
And what thou seest, deliver to thy Master.

Bya.   Do gentle Jaques. [Exeunt.

Ja.   Ha, is the wind in that door?
By'r Lady we shall have foul weather then:
I do not like the shuffling of these women,
They are mad beasts, when they knock their heads together:
I have observ'd them all this day; their whispers,
One in anothers ear, their signs and pinches,
And breaking often into violent laughters:
As if the end they purpos'd were their own.
Call you this weddings? Sure this is a knavery,
A very trick, and dainty knavery,
Marvellous finely carried, that's the comfort:
What would these women do in ways of honor?
That are such Masters this way? Well, my Sir
Has been as good at finding out these toys,
As any living; if he lose it now,
At his own peril be it. I must follow. [Exit.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter Servants with Lights, Petruchio, Petronius, Moroso, Tranio, and Sophocles.

Pet.   You that are married, Gentlemen; have at ye
For a round wager now.

Soph.   Of this nights Stage?

Petru.   Yes.

Soph.   I am your first man, a pair of Gloves of twenty shillings.

Petru.   Done: who takes me up next? I am for all bets.

Mor.   Well lusty Lawrence, were but my night now,
Old as I am, I would make you clap on Spurs,
But I would reach you, and bring you to your trot too:
I would Gallants.

Petru.   Well said good Will; but where's the staff boy, ha?
Old father Time, your hour-glass is empty.

Tra.   A good tough train would break thee all to pieces;
Thou hast not breath enough to say thy prayers.

Petron.   See how these boys despise us. Will you to bed son?
This pride will have a fall.

Petru.   Upon your daughter;
But I shall rise again, if there be truth
In Eggs, and butter'd Parsnips.

Petro.   Will you to bed son, and leave talking?
To morrow morning we shall have you look,
For all your great words, like St. George at Kingston,
Running a foot-back from the furious Dragon,
That with her angry tail belabours him
For being lazie.

Tra.   His courage quench'd, and so far quench'd—

Petru.   'Tis well Sir.
What then?

Soph.   Fly, fly, quoth then the fearful dwarfe;
Here is no place for living man.

Petru.   Well my masters, if I do sink under my business, as I find 'tis very possible, I am not the first that has miscarried; So that's my comfort, what may be done without impeach or waste, I can and will do.

Enter Jaques.

How now, is my fair Bride a bed?

Jaq.   No truly, Sir.

Petron.   Not a bed yet? body o' me: we'll up and rifle her: here's a coil with a Maiden-head, 'tis not intail'd, is it?

Petru.   If it be, I'll try all the Law i'th' Land, but I'll cut it off: let's up, let's up, come.

Jaq.   That you cannot neither.

Petru.   Why?

Jaq.   Unless you'll drop through the Chimney like a Daw, or force a breach i'th' windows: you may untile the house, 'tis possible.

Petru.   What dost thou mean?

Jaq.   A moral, Sir, the Ballad will express it:
The wind and the rain, has turned you back again,
And you cannot be lodged there. The truth is, all the doors
Are baracadoed; not a Cathole, but holds a murd'rer in't.
She's victuall'd for this month.

Petru.   Art not thou drunk?

Soph.   He's drunk, he's drunk; come, come, let's up.

Jaq.   Yes, yes, I am drunk: ye may go up, ye may Gentlemen, but take heed to your heads: I say no more.

Soph.   I'll try that. [Exit Soph.

Petron.   How dost thou say? the door fast lock'd fellow?

Jaq.   Yes truly Sir, 'tis lock'd, and guarded too; and two as desperate tongues planted behind it, as e'er yet batter'd: they stand upon their honors, and will not give up without strange composition, I'll assure you; marching away with their Pieces cockt, and Bullets in their mouths, will not satisfie them.

Petru.   How's this? how's this? they are—
Is there another with her?

Jaq.   Yes marry is there, and an Enginier.

Mor.   Who's that for Heavens sake?

Jaq.   Colonel Byancha, she commands the works: Spinola's but a Ditcher to her, there's a half-moon: I am but a poor man, but if you'll give me leave, I'll venture a years wages, draw all your force before it, and mount your ablest Piece of battery, you shall not enter it these three nights yet.

Enter Sophocles.

Petru.   I should laugh at that good Jaques.

Soph.   Beat back again, she's fortified for ever.

Jaq.   Am I drunk now, Sir?

Soph.   He that dares most, go up now, and be cool'd.
I have scap'd a pretty scowring.

Petru.   What are they mad? have we another Bedlam?
They do not talke I hope?

Soph.   Oh terribly, extreamly fearful, the noise at London-bridge is nothing near her.

Petru.   How got she tongue?

Soph.   As you got tail, she was born to't.

Petru.   Lock'd out a doors, and on my wedding-night?
Nay, and I suffer this, I may goe graze:
Come Gentlemen, I'll batter; are these virtues?

Soph.   Do, and be beaten off with shame, as I was: I went up, came to th' door, knock'd, no body answer'd; knock'd louder, yet heard nothing: would have broke in by force; when suddainly a Water-work flew from the window with such violence, that had I not duck'd quickly like a Fryer, cætera quis nescit? The chamber's nothing but a mere Ostend, in every window Pewter Cannons mounted, you'll quickly find with what they are charg'd, Sir.

Petru.   Why then tantara for us.

Soph.   And all the lower Works lin'd sure with small shot, long tongues with Fire-locks, that at twelve score blank hit to the heart: now and ye dare go up.

Enter Maria and Byanca above.

Mar.   The window opens, beat a parley first;
I am so much amaz'd, my very hair stands.

Petron.   Why how now Daughter: what intrench'd?

Mar.   A little guarded for my safety, Sir.

Petru.   For your safety Sweet-heart? why who offends you?
I come not to use violence.

Mar.   I think you cannot, Sir, I am better fortified.

Petru.   I know your end,
You would fain reprieve your Maiden-head
A night, or two.

Mar.   Yes, or ten, or twenty, or say an hundred;
Or indeed, till I list lie with you.

Soph.   That's a shrewd saying; from this present hour,
I never will believe a silent woman.
When they break out they are bonfires.

Petro.   Till you list lie with him? why who are you Madam?

Bya.   That trim Gentlemans wife, Sir.

Petru.   Cry you mercy, do you command too?

Mar.   Yes marry does she, and in chief.

Bya.   I do command, and you shall go without:
(I mean your wife, for this night)

Mar.   And for the next too wench, and so as'[t follows]

Petro.   Thou wilt not, wilt'a?

Mar.   Yes indeed dear father,
And till he seal to what I shall set down,
For any thing I know for ever.

Soph.   Indeed these are Bug[s]-words.

Tra.   You hear Sir, she can talk, God be thanked.

Petru.   I would I heard it not, Sir.

Soph.   I find that all the pity bestow'd upon this woman,
Makes but an Anagram of an ill wife,
For she was never virtuous.

Petru.   You'll let me in I hope, for all this jesting.

Mar.   Hope still, Sir.

Petron.   You will come down I am sure.

Mar.   I am sure I will not.

Petron.   I'll fetch you then.

Bya.   The power of the whole County cannot, Sir,
Unless we please to yield, which yet I think
We shall not; charge when you please, you shall
Hear quickly from us.

Mor.   Bless me from a chicken of thy hatching,
Is this wiving?

Petru.   Prethee Maria tell me what's the reason,
And doe it freely, you deal thus strangely with me?
You were not forc'd to marry, your consent
Went equally with mine, if not before it:
I hope you do not doubt I want that mettle
A man should have to keep a woman waking;
I would be sorry to be such a Saint yet:
My person, as it is not excellent,
So 'tis not old, nor lame, nor weak with Physick,
But well enough to please an honest woman,
That keeps her house, and loves her Husband.

Mar.   'Tis so.

Petru.   My means and my conditions are no shamers
Of him that owes 'em, all the world knows that,
And my friends no reliers on my fortunes.

Mar.   All this I believe, and none of all these parcels
I dare [ex]cept against; nay more, so far
I am from making these the ends I aim at,
These idle outward things, these womens fears,
That were I yet unmarried, free to choose
Through all the Tribes of man, I'll take Petruchio
In's shirt, with one ten Groats to pay the Priest,
Before the best man living, or the ablest
That e'er leap'd out of Lancashire, and they are right ones.

Petron.   Why do you play the fool then, and stand prating
Out of the window like a broken Miller!

Petru.   If you will have me credit you Maria,
Come down, and let your love confirm it.

Mar.   Stay there, Sir, that bargain's yet to make.

Bya.   Play sure wench, the Packs in thine own hand.

Soph.   Let me die lowsie, if these two wenches
Be not brewing knavery to stock a Kingdom.

Petru.   Why this is a Riddle:
I love you, and I love you not.

Mar.   It is so:
And till your own experience do untie it,
This distance I must keep.

Petru.   If you talk more,
I am angry, very angry.

Mar.   I am glad on't, and I will talk.

Petru.   Prethee peace,
Let me not think thou art mad. I tell thee woman,
If thou goest forward, I am still Petruchio.

Mar.   And I am worse, a woman that can fear
Neither Petruchio Furius, nor his fame,
Nor any thing that tends to our allegeance;
There's a short method for you, now you know me.

Petru.   If you can carry't so, 'tis very well.

Bya.   No, you shall carry it, Sir.

Petru.   Peace gentle Low-bel.

Petron.   Use no more words, but come down instantly,
I charge thee by the duty of a child.

Petru.   Prethee come Maria, I forgive all.

Mar.   Stay there; That duty, that you charge me by
(If you consider truly what you say)
Is now another man's, you gave't away
I' th' Church, if you remember, to my Husband:
So all you can exact now, is no more
But only a due reverence to your person,
Which thus I pay: Your blessing, and I am gone
To bed for this night.

Petron.   This is monstrous:
That blessing that St. Dunstan gave the Devil,
If I were neer thee, I would give thee—
Pull thee down by th' nose.

By.   Saints should not rave, Sir;
A little Rubarb now were excellent.

Petru.   Then by that duty you owe to me Maria,
Open the door, and be obedient: I am quiet yet.

Mar.   I do confess that duty, make your best on't.

Petru.   Why give me leave, I will.

Bya.   Sir, there's no learning
An old stiff Jade to trot, you know the moral.

Mar.   Yet as I take it, Sir, I owe no more
Than you owe back again.

Petru.   You will not Article?
All I owe, presently, let me but up, I'll pay.

Mar.   Y'are too hot, and such prove Jades at length;
You do confess a duty, or respect to me from you again:
That's very near, or full the same with mine?

Petru.   Yes.

Mar.   Then by that duty, or respect, or what
You please to have it, go to bed and leave me,
And trouble me no longer with your fooling;
For know, I am not for you.

Petru.   Well, what remedy?

Petron.   A fine smart Cudgel. Oh that I were near thee.

Bya.   If you had teeth now, what a case were we in!

M[o]r.   These are the most authentique Rebels, next
Tyrone, I ever read of.

Mar.   A week hence, or a fortnight, as you bear you,
And as I find my will observ'd, I may,
With intercession of some friends, be brought
May be to kiss you; and so quarterly
To pay a little Rent by composition,
You understand me?

Soph.   Thou Boy thou.

Petru.   Well there are more Maids than Maudlin, that's my comfort.

Mar.   Yes, and more men than Michael.

Petru.   I must not to bed with this stomach, and no meat Lady.

Mar.   Feed where you will, so it be sound and wholsome,
Else live at Livery, for I'll none with you.

By.   You had best back one of the Dairy Maids, they'll carry.
But take heed to your girths, you'll get a bruise else.

Petru.   Now if thou wouldst come down and tender me:
All the delights due to a marriage-bed,
Study such kisses as would melt a man,
And turn thy self into a thousand Figures,
To add new flames unto me, I would stand
Thus heavy, thus regardless, thus despising
Thee, and thy best allurings: all the beauty
That's laid upon your bodies, mark me well,
For without doubt your mind's are miserable,
You have no Masques for them: all this rare beauty,
Lay but the Painter and the Silk-worm by,
The Doctor with his Dyets, and the Tailor,
And you appear like flea'd Cats, not so handsome.

Mar.   And we appear like her that sent us hither,
That only excellent and beauteous nature;
Truly our selves for men to wonder at,
But too divine to handle; we are Gold,
In our own natures pure; but when we suffer
The husbands stamp upon us, then allays,
And base ones of you men are mingled with us,
And make us blush like Copper.

Petru.   Then, and never
Till then are women to be spoken of,
For till that time you have no souls I take it:
Good night: come Gentlemen; I'll fast for this night,
But by this hand, well; I shall come up yet.

Mar.   No.

Petru.   There will I watch thee like a wither'd Jury,
Thou shalt neither have meat, Fire, nor Candle,
Nor any thing that's easie: do you rebel so soon?
Yet take mercy.

By.   Put up your Pipes: to bed Sir, I'll assure you
A months siege will not shake us.

Moro.   Well said Colonel.

Mar.   To bed, to bed Petruchio: good night Gentlemen,
You'll make my Father sick with sitting up:
Here you shall find us any time these ten days,
Unless we may march off with our contentment.

Petru.   I'll hang first.

Mar.   And I'll quarter if I do not,
I'll make you know, and fear a wife Petruchio,
There my cause lies.
You have been famous for a woman-tamer,
And bear the fear'd-name of a brave Wife-breaker:
A woman now shall take those honors off,
And tame you; nay, never look so bigg, she shall, believe me,
And I am she: what think ye; good night to all,
Ye shall find Centinels.

By.   If ye dare sally. [Exeunt above.

Petro.   The devil's in 'em, ev'n the very devil, the downright devil.

Petru.   I'll devil 'em: by these ten bones I will: I'll bring it to the old Proverb, no sport no pie:——taken down i'th' top of all my speed; this is fine dancing: Gentlemen, stick to me. You see our Freehold's touch'd, and by this light, we will beleagure 'em, and either starve 'em out, or make 'em recreant.

Petro.   I'll see all passages stopt, but those about 'em:
If the good women of the Town dare succor 'em,
We shall have wars indeed.

Soph.   I'll stand perdue upon 'em.

Mor.   My Regiment shall lie before.

Jaq.   I think so, 'tis grown too old to stand.

Petru.   Let's in, and each provide his tackle,
We'll fire 'em out, or make 'em take their pardons:
Hear what I say on their bare knees—
Am I Petruchio, fear'd, and spoken of,
And on my wedding night am I thus jaded? [Exeunt omn.

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Rowland and Pedro at several doors.

Row.   Now Pedro?

Ped.   Very busie Master Rowland.

Row.   What haste man?

Ped.   I beseech you pardon me,
I am not mine own man.

Row.   Thou art not mad?

Ped.   No; but believe me, as hasty—

Row.   The cause good Pedro?

Ped.   There be a thousand Sir; you are not married?

Row.   Not yet.

Ped.   Keep your self quiet then.

Row.   Why?

Ped.   You'll find a Fiddle
That never will be tun'd else: from all women— [Exit.

Row.   What ails the fellow tro? Jaques?

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.   Your friend Sir.
But very full of business.

Row.   Nothing but business?
Prethee the reason, is there any dying?

Jaq.   I would there were Sir.

Row.   But thy business?

Jaq.   I'll tell you in a word, I am sent to lay
An Imposition upon Souse and Puddings,
Pasties, and penny Custards, that the women
May not relieve yo[n] Rebels: Fare ye well, Sir.

Row.   How does my Mistriss?

Jaq.   Like a resty jade.
She's spoil'd for riding. [Exit Jaques.

Row.   What a devil ail they?

Enter Sophocles.

Custards, and penny Pasties, Fools and Fiddles,
What's this to th' purpose? Oh well met.

Soph.   Now Rowland.
I cannot stay to talk long.

Row.   What's the matter?
Here's stirring, but to what end? whither goe you?

Soph.   To view the Works.

Row.   What Works?

Soph.   The womens Trenches.

Row.   Trenches? are such to see?

Soph.   I do not jest, Sir.

Row.   I cannot understand you.

Soph.   Do not you hear
In what a state of quarrel the new Bride
Stands with her Husband?

Row.   Let him stand with her, and there's an end.

Soph.   It should be, but by'r Lady
She holds him out at Pikes end, and defies him,
And now is fortifi'd, such a Regiment of Rutters
Never defied men braver: I am sent
To view their preparation.

Row.   This is news
Stranger than Arms in the air: you saw not
My gentle Mistriss?

Soph.   Yes, and meditating
Upon some secret business, when she had found it
She leap'd for joy, and laugh'd, and straight retir'd
To shun Moroso.

Row.   This may be for me.

Soph.   Will you along?

Row.   No.

Soph.   Farewel. [Exit Sophocles.

Row.   Farewel, Sir.
What should her musing mean, and what her joy in't,
If not for my advantage? stay ye; may not

Enter Livia at one door, and Moroso at another, hearkning.

That bob-tail jade Moroso, with his Gold,
His gew-gaudes, and the hope she has to send him
Quickly to dust, excite this? here she comes,
And yonder walks the Stallion to discover:
Yet I'll salute her: save you beauteous Mistriss.

Liv.   The Fox is kennell'd for me: save you Sir.

Row.   Why do you look so strange?

Liv.   I use to look Sir
Without examination.

Mar.   Twenty Spur-Royals for that word.

Row.   Belike then
The object discontents you?

Liv.   Yes it does.

Row.   Is't come to this? you know me, do you not?

Liv.   Yes, as I may know many by repentance.

Row.   Why do you break your faith?

Liv.   I'll tell you that too,
You are under age, and no band holds upon you.

Mor.   Excellent wench.

Liv.   Sue out your understanding,
And get more hair to cover your bare knuckle;
(For boys were made for nothing, but dry kisses)
And if you can, more manners.

Mor.   Better still.

Liv.   And then if I want Spanish Gloves, or Stockings,
A ten pound Wastecoat, or a Nag to hunt on,
It may be I shall grace you to accept 'em.

Row.   Farewel, and when I credit women more,
May I to Smithfield, and there buy a Jade,
(And know him to be so) that breaks my neck.

Liv.   Because I have known you, I'll be thus kind to you;
Farewel, and be a man, and I'll provide you,
Because I see y'are desperate, some staid Chamber-maid
That may relieve your youth with wholsome doctrine.

Mor.   She's mine from all the world: ha wench?

Liv.   Ha Chicken?— [gives him a box o' th' ear, and Ex.

Mor.   How's this? I do not love these favors: save you.

Row.   The devil take thee— [wrings him by th' nose.

Mor.   Oh!

Row.   There's a Love-token for you: thank me now.

Mor.   I'll think on some of ye, and if I live,
My nose alone shall not be plaid withal. [Exit.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Petronius, and Moroso.

Petro.   A Box o'th' ear do you say?

Mor.   Yes sure, a sound one,
Beside my nose blown to my hand; if Cupid
Shoot Arrows of that weight, I'll swear devoutly,
H'as sued his Livery, and is no more a boy.

Petro.   You gave her some ill language?

Mor.   Not a word.

Petro.   Or might be you were fumbling?

Mor.   Would I had Sir.
I had been a forehand then; but to be baffl'd,
And have no feeling of the cause—

Petro.   Be patient,
I have a medicine clapt to her back will cure her.

Mor.   No sure it must be afore, Sir.

Petro.   O' my conscience,
When I got these two wenches (who till now
Ne'r shew'd their riding) I was drunk with Bastard,
Whose nature is to form things like it self
Heady, and monstrous: did she slight him too?

Mor.   That's all my comfort: a meer Hobby-horse
She made child Rowland: s'foot she would not know him,
Not give him a free look, not reckon him
Among her thoughts, which I held more than wonder,
I having seen her within's three days kiss him
With such an appetite as though she would eat him.

Petro.   There is some trick in this: how did he take it?

Mor.   Ready to cry; he ran away.

Petro.   I fear her.
And yet I tell you, ever to my anger,
She is as tame as innocency; it may be
This blow was but a favour.

Mor.   I'll be sworn 'twas well tied on then.

Petro.   Goe too, pray forget it,
I have bespoke a Priest: and within's two hours
I'll have ye married; will that please you?

Mor.   Yes.

Petro.   I'll see it done my self, and give the Lady
Such a sound exhortation for this knavery
I'll warrant you, shall make her smell this month on't.

Mor.   Nay good Sir be not violent.

Petro.   Neither—

Mor.   It may be
Out of her earnest love there grew a longing
(As you know women have such toys) in kindness,
To give me a box o'th' ear, or so.

Petro.   It may be.

Mor.   I reckon for the best still: this night then
I shall enjoy her.

Petro.   You shall handsel her.

Mor.   Old as I am, I'll give her one blow for't
Shall make her groan this twelve-month.

Petro.   Where's your Joynture?

Mor.   I have a Joynture for her.

Petro.   Have your Council perus'd it yet?

Mor.   No Council but the night, and your sweet daughter,
Shall e'r peruse that joynture.

Petro.   Very well, Sir.

Moro.   I'll no demurrers on't, nor no rejoynders.
The other's ready seal'd.

Petro.   Come then let's comfort
My Son Petruchio, he's like little Children
That loose their baubles, crying ripe.

Mor.   Pray tell me,
Is this stern woman still upon the flaunt
Of bold defiance?

Petro.   Still, and still she shall be,
Till she be starv'd out, you shall see such justice,
That women shall be glad after this tempest,
To tie their husbands shooes, and walk their horses.

Mor.   That were a merry world: do you hear the rumor?
They say the women are in insurrection,
And mean to make a—

Petro.   They'll sooner
Draw upon walls as we do: Let 'em, let 'em,
We'll ship 'em out in Cuck-stools, there they'll sail
As brave Columbus did, till they discover
The happy Islands of obedience.
We stay too long, Come.

Mor.   Now St. George be with us. [Exeunt.

Scæna Secunda.

Enter Livia alone.

Liv.   Now if I can but get in handsomely,
Father I shall deceive you; and this night
For all your private plotting, I'll no wedlock;
I have shifted sail, and find my Sisters safety
A sure retirement; pray to heaven that Rowland
Do not believe too far, what I said to him,
For yon old Foxcase forc'd me, that's my fear.
Stay, let me see, this quarter fierce Petruchio
Keeps with his Myrmidons, I must be suddain,
If he seize on me, I can look for nothing
But Marshal-Law; to this place have I scap'd him;
Above there.

Enter Maria and Byancha above.

Mar.   Cheval' a.

Liv.   A friend.

By.   Who are you?

Liv.   Look out and know.

Mar.   Alas poor wench, who sent thee?
What weak fool made thy tongue his Orator?
I know you come to parly.

Liv.   Y'are deceiv'd,
Urg'd by the goodness of your cause, I come
To do as you do.

Mar.   Y'are too weak, too foolish,
To cheat us with your smoothness: do not we know
Thou hast been kept up tame?

Liv.   Believe me.

Mar.   No, prethee good Livia
Utter thy Eloquence somewhere else.

By.   Good Cosin
Put up your Pipes; we are not for your palate
Alas we know who sent you.

Liv.   O' my word—

By.   Stay there; you must not think your word,
Or by your Maidenhead, or such Sunday oaths,
Sworn after Even-Song, can inveigle us
To lose our hand-fast: did their wisdoms think
That sent you hither, we would be so foolish,
To entertain our gentle Sister Sinon,
And give her credit, while the wooden Jade
Petruchio   stole upon us: no good Sister,
Go home, and tell the merry Greeks that sent you,
Ilium   shall burn, and I, as did Æneas,
Will on my back, spite of the Myrmidons,
Carry this warlike Lady, and through Seas
Unknown, and unbeliev'd, seek out a Land,
Where like a race of noble Amazons
We'll root our se[l]ves, and to our endless glory
Live, and despise base men.

Liv.   I'll second ye.

By.   How long have you been thus?

Liv.   That's all one, Cosin,
I stand for freedom now.

By.   Take heed of lying;
For by this light, if we do credit you,
And find you tripping, his infliction
That kill'd the Prince of Orange, will be sport
To what we purpose.

Liv.   Let me feel the heaviest.

Mar.   Swear by thy Sweet-heart Rowland (for by your maiden-head,
I fear 'twill be too late to swear) you mean
Nothing but fair and safe, and honourable
To us, and to your self.

Liv.   I swear.

By.   Stay yet,
Swear as you hate Moroso, that's the surest,
And as you have a certain fear to find him
Worse than a poor dry'd Jack, full of more aches
Than Autumn has; more knavery, and usury,
And foolery, and brokery, than dogs-ditch:
As you do constantly believe he's nothing
But an old empty bag with a grey beard,
And that Beard such a bob-tail, that it looks
Worse than a Mares tail eaten off with Fillies:
As you acknowledge that young handsome wench
That lies by such a Bilboa blade that bends
With ev'ry pass he makes, to th' hilts, [most] miserable,
A dry Nurse to his Coughs, a fewterer
To such a nasty fellow, a robb'd thing
Of all delights youth looks for: and to end,
One cast away on course beef, born to brush
That everlasting Cassock that has worn
As many servants out, as the Northeast passage
Has consum'd Sailors: if you swear this, and truly
Without the reservation of a gown
Or any meritorious Petticoat,
'Tis like we shall believe you.

Liv.   I do swear it.

Mar.   Stay yet a little; came this wholsome motion
(Deal truly Sister) from your own opinion,
Or some suggestion of the Foe?

Liv.   Nev'r fear me,
For by that little faith I have in Husbands,
And the great zeal I bear your cause, I come
Full of that liberty you stand for, Sister.

Mar.   If we believe, and you prove recreant, Livia,
Think what a maim you give the noble Cause
We now stand up for: Think what women shall,
An hundred years hence, speak thee, when examples
Are look'd for, and so great ones, whose relations,
Spoke as we do 'em wench, shall make new customs.

By.   If you be false, repent, go home, and pray,
And to the serious women of the City
Confess your self; bring not a sin so hainous
To load thy soul to this place: mark me Livia,
If thou be'st double, and betray'st our honors,
And we fail in our purpose: get thee where
There is no women living, nor no hope
There ever shall be.

Mar.   If a Mothers daughter,
That ever heard the name of stubborn husband
Find thee, and know thy sin.

By.   Nay, if old age,
One that has worn away the name of woman,
And no more left to know her by, but railing,
No teeth, nor eyes, nor legs, but wooden ones
Come but i'th' wind-ward of thee, for sure she'll smell thee;
Thou'lt be so rank, she'll ride thee like a night-Mare,
And say her Prayers back-ward to undo thee:
She'll curse thy meat and drink, and when thou marriest,
Clap a sound spell for ever on thy pleasures.

Mar.   Children of five year old, like little Fairies,
Will pinch thee into motley: all that ever
Shall live, and hear of thee, I mean all women,
Will (like so many furies) shake their keys;
And toss their flaming distaffs o'r their heads,
Crying revenge: take heed, 'tis hideous:
Oh 'tis a fearful office, if thou hadst
(Though thou be'st perfect now) when thou cam'st hither,
A false imagination, get thee gone,
And as my learned Cosin said, repent,
This place is sought by soundness.

Liv.   So I seek it,
Or let me be a most despis'd example.

Mar.   I do believe thee, be thou worthy of it.
You come not empty?

Liv.   No, here's Cakes, and cold meat,
And Tripe of proof: behold, here's Wine and Beer,
Be suddain, I shall be surpriz'd else.

Mar.   Meet at the low parlour door, there lies a close way:
What fond obedience you have living in you,
Or duty to a man before you enter,
Fling it away, 'twill but defile our Off'rings.

By.   Be wary as you come.

Liv.   I warrant ye. [Exeunt.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter three Maids.

1 Mai.   How goes your business Girls?

2.   A foot, and fair.

3.   If fortune favour us: away to your strength,
The Countrey Forces are arriv'd, be gone,
We are discover'd else.

1.   Arm, and be valiant.

2.   Think of our cause.

3.   Our Justice.

1.   'Tis sufficient. [Exeunt.

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Rowland and Tranio at several doors.

Tra.   Now Rowland?

Row.   How doe you?

Tra.   How dost thou man?
Thou look'st ill:

[R]ow.   Yes, pray can you tell me Tranio,
Who knew the devil first?

Tra.   A woman.

Row.   So. Were they not well acquainted?

Tra.   May be so,
For they had certain Dialogues together.

Row.   He sold her fruit, I take it?

Tra.   Yes, and Cheese
That choak'd all mankind after.

Row.   Canst thou tell me
Whether that woman ever had a faith
After she had eaten?

Tra.   That's a School-question

Row.   No,
'Tis no question, for believe me Tranio,
That cold fruit after eating bread naught in her
But windy promises, and chollick vows
That broke out both ways.
[Thou] hast heard I am sure
Of Esculapius, a far famed Surgeon,
One that could set together quarter'd Traitors
And make 'em honest men.

Tra.   How dost thou Rowland?

Row.   Let him but take, (if [h]e dare do a cure
Shall get him fame indeed) a faithless woman,
There will be credit for him, that will speak him,
A broken woman Tranio, a base woman,
And if he can cure such a rack of honor
Let him come here, and practice.

Tra.   Now for honors sake,
Why what ail'st thou Rowland?

Row.   I am ridden Tranio.
And spur-gall'd to the life of patience
(Heaven keep my wits together) by a thing
Our worst thoughts are too noble for, a woman.

Tra.   Your Mistriss has a little frown'd it may be?

Row.   She was my Mistriss.

Tra.   Is she not?

R[o]w.   No Tranio.
She has done me such disgrace, so spitefully
So like a woman bent to my undoing,
That henceforth a good horse shall be my Mistriss,
A good Sword, or a Book: and if you see her,
Tell her I [doe] beseech you, even for love sake.—

Tra.   I will Rowland.

Row.   She may sooner
Count the good I have thought her,
Our old love and our friendship,
Shed one true tear, mean one hour constantly,
Be old and honest, married, and a maid,
Than make me see her more, or more believe her:
And now I have met a messenger, farewel Sir. [Exit.

Tra.   Alas poor Rowland, I will do it for thee:
This is that dog Moroso, but I hope
To see him cold i'th' mouth first, e'r he enjoy her:
I'll watch this young man, desperate thoughts may seize him,
And if my purse or council can, I'll ease him. [Exit.

Scæna Quinta.

Enter Petruchio, Petronius, Moroso, and Sophocles.

Petru.   For look you Gentlemen, say that I grant her,
Out of my free and liberal love, a pardon,
Which you, and all men else know, she deserves not,
(Teneatis amici) can all the world leave laughing?

Petro.   I think not.

Petru.   No by —— they cannot;
For pray consider, have you ever read,
Or heard of, or can any man imagine.
So stiff a Tom-boy, of so set a malice,
And such a brazen resolution,
As this young Crab-tree? and then answer me,
And mark but this too friends, without a cause,
Not a foul word come cross her, not a fear,
She justly can take hold on, and do you think
I must sleep out my anger, and endure it,
Sow pillows to her ease, and lull her mischief?
Give me a Spindle first: no, no my Masters,
Were she as fair as Nell-a-Greece, and housewife,
As good as the wise Sailors wife, and young still,
Never above fifteen, and these tricks to it,
She should ride the wild Mare once a week, she should,
(Believe me friends she should) I would tabor her,
Till all the Legions that are crept into her,
Flew out with fire i'th' tails.

Soph.   Methinks you err now,
For to me seems, a little sufferance
Were a far surer cure.

Petru.   Yes, I can suffer,
Where I see promises of peace and amendment.

Mor.   Give her a few conditions.

Petru.   I'll be hanged first.

Petron.   Give her a Crab-tree Cudgel.

Petru.   So I will;
And after it a flock-bed for her bones.
And hard eggs, till they brace her like a Drum,
She shall be pamper'd with ——
She shall not know a stool in ten months, Gentlemen.

Soph.   This must not be.

Enter Jaques.

Jaq.   Arm, arm, out with your weapons,
For all the women in the Kingdom's on ye;

Enter Pedro.

They swarm like wasps, and nothing can destroy 'em,
But stopping of their hive, and smothering of 'em,

Ped.   Stand to your guard, Sir, all the devils extant
Are broke upon us like a cloud of thunder;
There are more women marching hitherward,
In rescue of my Mistriss, than e'er turn'd tail
At Sturbridge Fair, and I believe, as fiery.

Jaq.   The forlorn hope's led by a Tanner's wife,
I know her by her Hide, a desperate woman:
She flead her Husband in her youth, and made
Raynes of his Hide to ride the parish. Take 'em all together,
They are a genealogy of Jennets, gotten
And born thus by the boisterous breath of Husbands;
They serve sure, a[n]d are swift to catch occasion,
(I mean their foes or Husbands) by the forelocks,
And there they hang like favours; cry they can
But more for Noble spight, than fear: and crying
Like the old Giants that were foes to heaven,
They heave ye stool on stool, and fling main Pot-lids
Like massie Rocks, dart Ladles, tossing Irons,
And Tongs like Thunderbolts, till overlaid,
They fall beneath the weight; yet still aspiring
At those Emperious [Codsheads] that would tame 'em.
There's ne'r a one of these, the worst and weakest,
(Chuse where you will,) but dare attempt the raising,
Against the soveraign peace of Puritans,
A May-pole and a Morris, maugre mainly
Their zeal, and Dudgeon-daggers: and yet more,
Dares plant a stand of batt'ring Ale against 'em,
And drink 'em out o'th' parish.

Soph.   Lo you fierce Petruchio, this comes of your impatience.

Ped.   There's one brought in the Bears against the Canons
Of the Town, made it good, and fought 'em.

Jaq.   Another to her everlasting fame, erected
Two Ale-houses of ease: the Quarter-Sessions
Running against her roundly; in which business
Two of the disanullers lost their night-caps:
A third stood excommunicate by the cudgel;
The Constable, to her eternal glory,
Drunk hard, and was converted, and she victor.

Ped.   Then are they victualed with Pies and Puddings,
(The trappings of good Stomachs) noble Ale
The true defender, Sausages, and smoak'd ones,
If need be, such as serve for Pikes; and Pork,
(Better the Jews ne'r hated:) here and there
A bottle of Metheglin, a stout Britain
That will stand to 'em; what else they want, they war for.

Petru.   Come to council.

Soph.   Now you must grant conditions, or the Kingdom
Will have no other talke but this.

Petron.   Away then, and let's advise the best.

Soph.   Why do you tremble?

Mor.   Have I liv'd thus long to be knockt o'th' head,
With half a Washing-beetle: pray be wise, Sir.

Petru.   Come, something I'll do, but what it is, I know not.

Soph.   To Council then, and let's avoid their follies.
Guard all the doors, or we shall not have a Cloak left. [Exeunt.