Beg. These fifteene yeeres, by my fay, a goodly nap,
But did I neuer speake of all that time

   1.Man. Oh yes my Lord, but verie idle words,
For though you lay heere in this goodlie chamber,
Yet would you say, ye were beaten out of doore,
And raile vpon the Hostesse of the house,
And say you would present her at the Leete,
Because she brought stone-Iugs, and no seal'd quarts:
Sometimes you would call out for Cicely Hacket

   Beg. I, the womans maide of the house

   3.Man. Why sir you know no house, nor no such maid
Nor no such men as you haue reckon'd vp,
As Stephen Slie, and old Iohn Naps of Greece,
And Peter Turph, and Henry Pimpernell,
And twentie more such names and men as these,
Which neuer were, nor no man euer saw

   Beg. Now Lord be thanked for my good amends

   All. Amen.
Enter Lady with Attendants.

  Beg. I thanke thee, thou shalt not loose by it

   Lady. How fares my noble Lord?
  Beg. Marrie I fare well, for heere is cheere enough.
Where is my wife?
  La. Heere noble Lord, what is thy will with her?
  Beg. Are you my wife, and will not cal me husband?
My men should call me Lord, I am your good-man

   La. My husband and my Lord, my Lord and husband
I am your wife in all obedience

   Beg. I know it well, what must I call her?
  Lord. Madam

   Beg. Alce Madam, or Ione Madam?
  Lord. Madam, and nothing else, so Lords cal Ladies
  Beg. Madame wife, they say that I haue dream'd,
And slept aboue some fifteene yeare or more

   Lady. I, and the time seeme's thirty vnto me,
Being all this time abandon'd from your bed

   Beg. 'Tis much, seruants leaue me and her alone:
Madam vndresse you, and come now to bed

   La. Thrice noble Lord, let me intreat of you
To pardon me yet for a night or two:
Or if not so, vntill the Sun be set.
For your Physitians haue expressely charg'd,
In perill to incurre your former malady,
That I should yet absent me from your bed:
I hope this reason stands for my excuse

   Beg. I, it stands so that I may hardly tarry so long:
But I would be loth to fall into my dreames againe: I
wil therefore tarrie in despight of the flesh & the blood
Enter a Messenger.

  Mes. Your Honors Players hearing your amendment,
Are come to play a pleasant Comedie,
For so your doctors hold it very meete,
Seeing too much sadnesse hath congeal'd your blood,
And melancholly is the Nurse of frenzie,
Therefore they thought it good you heare a play,
And frame your minde to mirth and merriment,
Which barres a thousand harmes, and lengthens life

   Beg. Marrie I will let them play, it is not a Comontie,
a Christmas gambold, or a tumbling tricke?
  Lady. No my good Lord, it is more pleasing stuffe

   Beg. What, houshold stuffe

   Lady. It is a kinde of history

   Beg. Well, we'l see't:
Come Madam wife sit by my side,
And let the world slip, we shall nere be yonger.

Flourish. Enter Lucentio, and his man Triano.

  Luc. Tranio, since for the great desire I had
To see faire Padua, nurserie of Arts,
I am arriu'd for fruitfull Lumbardie,
The pleasant garden of great Italy,
And by my fathers loue and leaue am arm'd
With his good will, and thy good companie.
My trustie seruant well approu'd in all,
Heere let vs breath, and haply institute
A course of Learning, and ingenious studies.
Pisa renowned for graue Citizens
Gaue me my being, and my father first
A Merchant of great Trafficke through the world:
Vincentio's come of the Bentiuolij,
Vincentio's sonne, brought vp in Florence,
It shall become to serue all hopes conceiu'd
To decke his fortune with his vertuous deedes:
And therefore Tranio, for the time I studie,
Vertue and that part of Philosophie
Will I applie, that treats of happinesse,
By vertue specially to be atchieu'd.
Tell me thy minde, for I haue Pisa left,
And am to Padua come, as he that leaues
A shallow plash, to plunge him in the deepe,
And with sacietie seekes to quench his thirst

   Tra. Me Pardonato, gentle master mine:
I am in all affected as your selfe,
Glad that you thus continue your resolue,
To sucke the sweets of sweete Philosophie.
Onely (good master) while we do admire
This vertue, and this morall discipline,
Let's be no Stoickes, nor no stockes I pray,
Or so deuote to Aristotles checkes
As Ouid; be an out-cast quite abiur'd:
Balke Lodgicke with acquaintance that you haue,
And practise Rhetoricke in your common talke,
Musicke and Poesie vse, to quicken you,
The Mathematickes, and the Metaphysickes
Fall to them as you finde your stomacke serues you:
No profit growes, where is no pleasure tane:
In briefe sir, studie what you most affect

   Luc. Gramercies Tranio, well dost thou aduise,
If Biondello thou wert come ashore,
We could at once put vs in readinesse,
And take a Lodging fit to entertaine
Such friends (as time) in Padua shall beget.
But stay a while, what companie is this?
  Tra. Master some shew to welcome vs to Towne.
Enter Baptista with his two daughters, Katerina & Bianca, Gremio
a
Pantelowne, Hortentio sister to Bianca. Lucen. Tranio, stand by.

  Bap. Gentlemen, importune me no farther,
For how I firmly am resolu'd you know:
That is, not to bestow my yongest daughter,
Before I haue a husband for the elder:
If either of you both loue Katherina,
Because I know you well, and loue you well,
Leaue shall you haue to court her at your pleasure

   Gre. To cart her rather. She's to rough for mee,
There, there Hortensio, will you any Wife?
  Kate. I pray you sir, is it your will
To make a stale of me amongst these mates?
  Hor. Mates maid, how meane you that?
No mates for you,
Vnlesse you were of gentler milder mould

   Kate. I'faith sir, you shall neuer neede to feare,
Iwis it is not halfe way to her heart:
But if it were, doubt not, her care should be,
To combe your noddle with a three-legg'd stoole,
And paint your face, and vse you like a foole

   Hor. From all such diuels, good Lord deliuer vs

   Gre. And me too, good Lord

   Tra. Husht master, heres some good pastime toward;
That wench is starke mad, or wonderfull froward

   Lucen. But in the others silence do I see,
Maids milde behauiour and sobrietie.
Peace Tranio

   Tra. Well said Mr, mum, and gaze your fill

   Bap. Gentlemen, that I may soone make good
What I haue said, Bianca get you in,
And let it not displease thee good Bianca,
For I will loue thee nere the lesse my girle

   Kate. A pretty peate, it is best put finger in the eye,
and she knew why

   Bian. Sister content you, in my discontent.
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe:
My bookes and instruments shall be my companie,
On them to looke, and practise by my selfe

   Luc. Harke Tranio, thou maist heare Minerua speak

   Hor. Signior Baptista, will you be so strange,
Sorrie am I that our good will effects
Bianca's greefe

   Gre. Why will you mew her vp
(Signior Baptista) for this fiend of hell,
And make her beare the pennance of her tongue

   Bap. Gentlemen content ye: I am resolud:
Go in Bianca.
And for I know she taketh most delight
In Musicke, Instruments, and Poetry,
Schoolemasters will I keepe within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth. If you Hortensio,
Or signior Gremio you know any such,
Preferre them hither: for to cunning men,
I will be very kinde and liberall,
To mine owne children, in good bringing vp,
And so farewell: Katherina you may stay,
For I haue more to commune with Bianca.
Enter.

  Kate. Why, and I trust I may go too, may I not?
What shall I be appointed houres, as though
(Belike) I knew not what to take,
And what to leaue? Ha.

Exit

  Gre. You may go to the diuels dam: your guifts are
so good heere's none will holde you: Their loue is not
so great Hortensio, but we may blow our nails together,
and fast it fairely out. Our cakes dough on both sides.
Farewell: yet for the loue I beare my sweet Bianca, if
I can by any meanes light on a fit man to teach her that
wherein she delights, I will wish him to her father

   Hor. So will I signiour Gremio: but a word I pray:
Though the nature of our quarrell yet neuer brook'd
parle, know now vpon aduice, it toucheth vs both: that
we may yet againe haue accesse to our faire Mistris, and
be happie riuals in Bianca's loue, to labour and effect
one thing specially

   Gre. What's that I pray?
  Hor. Marrie sir to get a husband for her Sister

   Gre. A husband: a diuell

   Hor. I say a husband

   Gre. I say, a diuell: Think'st thou Hortensio, though
her father be verie rich, any man is so verie a foole to be
married to hell?
  Hor. Tush Gremio: though it passe your patience &
mine to endure her lowd alarums, why man there bee
good fellowes in the world, and a man could light on
them, would take her with all faults, and mony enough

   Gre. I cannot tell: but I had as lief take her dowrie
with this condition; To be whipt at the hie crosse euerie
morning

   Hor. Faith (as you say) there's small choise in rotten
apples: but come, since this bar in law makes vs friends,
it shall be so farre forth friendly maintain'd, till by helping
Baptistas eldest daughter to a husband, wee set his
yongest free for a husband, and then haue too't afresh:
Sweet Bianca, happy man be his dole: hee that runnes
fastest, gets the Ring: How say you signior Gremio?
  Grem. I am agreed, and would I had giuen him the
best horse in Padua to begin his woing that would thoroughly
woe her, wed her, and bed her, and ridde the
house of her. Come on.


Exeunt. ambo. Manet Tranio and Lucentio

  Tra. I pray sir tel me, is it possible
That loue should of a sodaine take such hold

   Luc. Oh Tranio, till I found it to be true,
I neuer thought it possible or likely.
But see, while idely I stood looking on,
I found the effect of Loue in idlenesse,
And now in plainnesse do confesse to thee
That art to me as secret and as deere
As Anna to the Queene of Carthage was:
Tranio I burne, I pine, I perish Tranio,
If I atchieue not this yong modest gyrle:
Counsaile me Tranio, for I know thou canst:
Assist me Tranio, for I know thou wilt

   Tra. Master, it is no time to chide you now,
Affection is not rated from the heart:
If loue haue touch'd you, naught remaines but so,
Redime te captam quam queas minimo

   Luc. Gramercies Lad: Go forward, this contents,
The rest wil comfort, for thy counsels sound

   Tra. Master, you look'd so longly on the maide,
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all

   Luc. Oh yes, I saw sweet beautie in her face,
Such as the daughter of Agenor had,
That made great Ioue to humble him to her hand,
When with his knees he kist the Cretan strond

   Tra. Saw you no more? Mark'd you not how hir sister
Began to scold, and raise vp such a storme,
That mortal eares might hardly indure the din

   Luc. Tranio, I saw her corrall lips to moue,
And with her breath she did perfume the ayre,
Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her

   Tra. Nay, then 'tis time to stirre him fro[m] his trance:
I pray awake sir: if you loue the Maide,
Bend thoughts and wits to atcheeue her. Thus it stands:
Her elder sister is so curst and shrew'd,
That til the Father rid his hands of her,
Master, your Loue must liue a maide at home,
And therefore has he closely meu'd her vp,
Because she will not be annoy'd with suters

   Luc. Ah Tranio, what a cruell Fathers he:
But art thou not aduis'd, he tooke some care
To get her cunning Schoolemasters to instruct her

   Tra. I marry am I sir, and now 'tis plotted

   Luc. I haue it Tranio

   Tra. Master, for my hand,
Both our inuentions meet and iumpe in one

   Luc. Tell me thine first

   Tra. You will be schoole-master,
And vndertake the teaching of the maid:
That's your deuice

   Luc. It is: May it be done?
  Tra. Not possible: for who shall beare your part,
And be in Padua heere Vincentio's sonne,
Keepe house, and ply his booke, welcome his friends,
Visit his Countrimen, and banquet them?
  Luc. Basta, content thee: for I haue it full.
We haue not yet bin seene in any house,
Nor can we be distinguish'd by our faces,
For man or master: then it followes thus;
Thou shalt be master, Tranio in my sted:
Keepe house, and port, and seruants, as I should,
I will some other be, some Florentine,
Some Neapolitan, or meaner man of Pisa.
'Tis hatch'd, and shall be so: Tranio at once
Vncase thee: take my Coulord hat and cloake,
When Biondello comes, he waites on thee,
But I will charme him first to keepe his tongue

   Tra. So had you neede:
In breefe Sir, sith it your pleasure is,
And I am tyed to be obedient,
For so your father charg'd me at our parting:
Be seruiceable to my sonne (quoth he)
Although I thinke 'twas in another sense,
I am content to bee Lucentio,
Because so well I loue Lucentio

   Luc. Tranio be so, because Lucentio loues,
And let me be a slaue, t' atchieue that maide,
Whose sodaine sight hath thral'd my wounded eye.
Enter Biondello.

Heere comes the rogue. Sirra, where haue you bin?
  Bion. Where haue I beene? Nay how now, where
are you? Maister, ha's my fellow Tranio stolne your
cloathes, or you stolne his, or both? Pray what's the
newes?
  Luc. Sirra come hither, 'tis no time to iest,
And therefore frame your manners to the time
Your fellow Tranio heere to saue my life,
Puts my apparrell, and my count'nance on,
And I for my escape haue put on his:
For in a quarrell since I came a-shore,
I kil'd a man, and feare I was descried:
Waite you on him, I charge you, as becomes:
While I make way from hence to saue my life:
You vnderstand me?
  Bion. I sir, ne're a whit

   Luc. And not a iot of Tranio in your mouth,
Tranio is chang'd into Lucentio

   Bion. The better for him, would I were so too

   Tra. So could I 'faith boy, to haue the next wish after,
that Lucentio indeede had Baptistas yongest daughter.
But sirra, not for my sake, but your masters, I aduise
you vse your manners discreetly in all kind of companies:
When I am alone, why then I am Tranio: but in
all places else, your master Lucentio

   Luc. Tranio let's go:
One thing more rests, that thy selfe execute,
To make one among these wooers: if thou ask me why,
Sufficeth my reasons are both good and waighty.

Exeunt. The Presenters aboue speakes.

  1.Man. My Lord you nod, you do not minde the
play

   Beg. Yes by Saint Anne do I, a good matter surely:
Comes there any more of it?
  Lady. My Lord, 'tis but begun

   Beg. 'Tis a verie excellent peece of worke, Madame
Ladie: would 'twere done.

They sit and marke.

Enter Petruchio, and his man Grumio.

  Petr. Verona, for a while I take my leaue,
To see my friends in Padua; but of all
My best beloued and approued friend
Hortensio: & I trow this is his house:
Heere sirra Grumio, knocke I say

   Gru. Knocke sir? whom should I knocke? Is there
any man ha's rebus'd your worship?
  Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me heere soundly

   Gru. Knocke you heere sir? Why sir, what am I sir,
that I should knocke you heere sir

   Petr. Villaine I say, knocke me at this gate,
And rap me well, or Ile knocke your knaues pate

   Gru. My Mr is growne quarrelsome:
I should knocke you first,
And then I know after who comes by the worst

   Petr. Will it not be?
'Faith sirrah, and you'l not knocke, Ile ring it,
Ile trie how you can Sol, Fa, and sing it.

He rings him by the eares

  Gru. Helpe mistris helpe, my master is mad

   Petr. Now knocke when I bid you: sirrah villaine.
Enter Hortensio.

  Hor. How now, what's the matter? My olde friend
Grumio, and my good friend Petruchio? How do you all
at Verona?
  Petr. Signior Hortensio, come you to part the fray?
Contutti le core bene trobatto, may I say

   Hor. Alla nostra casa bene venuto multo honorata signior
mio Petruchio.
Rise Grumio rise, we will compound this quarrell

   Gru. Nay 'tis no matter sir, what he leges in Latine.
If this be not a lawfull cause for me to leaue his seruice,
looke you sir: He bid me knocke him, & rap him soundly
sir. Well, was it fit for a seruant to vse his master so,
being perhaps (for ought I see) two and thirty, a peepe
out? Whom would to God I had well knockt at first,
then had not Grumio come by the worst

   Petr. A sencelesse villaine: good Hortensio,
I bad the rascall knocke vpon your gate,
And could not get him for my heart to do it

   Gru. Knocke at the gate? O heauens: spake you not
these words plaine? Sirra, Knocke me heere: rappe me
heere: knocke me well, and knocke me soundly? And
come you now with knocking at the gate?
  Petr. Sirra be gone, or talke not I aduise you

   Hor. Petruchio patience, I am Grumio's pledge:
Why this a heauie chance twixt him and you,
Your ancient trustie pleasant seruant Grumio:
And tell me now (sweet friend) what happie gale
Blowes you to Padua heere, from old Verona?
  Petr. Such wind as scatters yongmen throgh y world,
To seeke their fortunes farther then at home,
Where small experience growes but in a few.
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me,
Antonio my father is deceast,
And I haue thrust my selfe into this maze,
Happily to wiue and thriue, as best I may:
Crownes in my purse I haue, and goods at home,
And so am come abroad to see the world

   Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come roundly to thee,
And wish thee to a shrew'd ill-fauour'd wife?
Thou'dst thanke me but a little for my counsell:
And yet Ile promise thee she shall be rich,
And verie rich: but th'art too much my friend,
And Ile not wish thee to her

   Petr. Signior Hortensio, 'twixt such friends as wee,
Few words suffice: and therefore, if thou know
One rich enough to be Petruchio's wife:
(As wealth is burthen of my woing dance)
Be she as foule as was Florentius Loue,
As old as Sibell, and as curst and shrow'd
As Socrates Zentippe, or a worse:
She moues me not, or not remoues at least
Affections edge in me. Were she is as rough
As are the swelling Adriaticke seas.
I come to wiue it wealthily in Padua:
If wealthily, then happily in Padua

   Gru. Nay looke you sir, hee tels you flatly what his
minde is: why giue him Gold enough, and marrie him
to a Puppet or an Aglet babie, or an old trot with ne're a
tooth in her head, though she haue as manie diseases as
two and fiftie horses. Why nothing comes amisse, so
monie comes withall

   Hor. Petruchio, since we are stept thus farre in,
I will continue that I broach'd in iest,
I can Petruchio helpe thee to a wife
With wealth enough, and yong and beautious,
Brought vp as best becomes a Gentlewoman.
Her onely fault, and that is faults enough,
Is, that she is intollerable curst,
And shrow'd, and froward, so beyond all measure,
That were my state farre worser then it is,
I would not wed her for a mine of Gold

   Petr. Hortensio peace: thou knowst not golds effect,
Tell me her fathers name, and 'tis enough:
For I will boord her, though she chide as loud
As thunder, when the clouds in Autumne cracke

   Hor. Her father is Baptista Minola,
An affable and courteous Gentleman,
Her name is Katherina Minola,
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue

   Petr. I know her father, though I know not her,
And he knew my deceased father well:
I wil not sleepe Hortensio til I see her,
And therefore let me be thus bold with you,
To giue you ouer at this first encounter,
Vnlesse you wil accompanie me thither

   Gru . I pray you Sir let him go while the humor lasts.
A my word, and she knew him as wel as I do, she would
thinke scolding would doe little good vpon him. Shee
may perhaps call him halfe a score Knaues, or so: Why
that's nothing; and he begin once, hee'l raile in his rope
trickes. Ile tell you what sir, and she stand him but a litle,
he wil throw a figure in her face, and so disfigure hir
with it, that shee shal haue no more eies to see withall
then a Cat: you know him not sir

   Hor. Tarrie Petruchio, I must go with thee,
For in Baptistas keepe my treasure is:
He hath the Iewel of my life in hold,
His yongest daughter, beautiful Bianca,
And her with-holds from me. Other more
Suters to her, and riuals in my Loue:
Supposing it a thing impossible,
For those defects I haue before rehearst,
That euer Katherina wil be woo'd:
Therefore this order hath Baptista tane,
That none shal haue accesse vnto Bianca,
Til Katherine the Curst, haue got a husband

   Gru. Katherine the curst,
A title for a maide, of all titles the worst

   Hor. Now shal my friend Petruchio do me grace,
And offer me disguis'd in sober robes,
To old Baptista as a schoole-master
Well seene in Musicke, to instruct Bianca,
That so I may by this deuice at least
Haue leaue and leisure to make loue to her,
And vnsuspected court her by her selfe.
Enter Gremio and Lucentio disguised.

  Gru. Heere's no knauerie. See, to beguile the olde-folkes,
how the young folkes lay their heads together.
Master, master, looke about you: Who goes there? ha

   Hor. Peace Grumio, it is the riuall of my Loue.
Petruchio stand by a while

   Grumio. A proper stripling, and an amorous

   Gremio. O very well, I haue perus'd the note:
Hearke you sir, Ile haue them verie fairely bound,
All bookes of Loue, see that at any hand,
And see you reade no other Lectures to her:
You vnderstand me. Ouer and beside
Signior Baptistas liberalitie,
Ile mend it with a Largesse. Take your paper too,
And let me haue them verie wel perfum'd;
For she is sweeter then perfume it selfe
To whom they go to: what wil you reade to her

   Luc. What ere I reade to her, Ile pleade for you,
As for my patron, stand you so assur'd,
As firmely as your selfe were still in place,
Yea and perhaps with more successefull words
Then you; vnlesse you were a scholler sir

   Gre. Oh this learning, what a thing it is

   Gru. Oh this Woodcocke, what an Asse it is

   Petru. Peace sirra

   Hor. Grumio mum: God saue you signior Gremio

   Gre. And you are wel met, Signior Hortensio.
Trow you whither I am going? To Baptista Minola,
I promist to enquire carefully
About a schoolemaster for the faire Bianca,
And by good fortune I haue lighted well
On this yong man: For learning and behauiour
Fit for her turne, well read in Poetrie
And other bookes, good ones, I warrant ye

   Hor. 'Tis well: and I haue met a Gentleman
Hath promist me to helpe one to another,
A fine Musitian to instruct our Mistris,
So shal I no whit be behinde in dutie
To faire Bianca, so beloued of me

   Gre. Beloued of me, and that my deeds shal proue

   Gru. And that his bags shal proue

   Hor. Gremio, 'tis now no time to vent our loue,
Listen to me, and if you speake me faire,
Ile tel you newes indifferent good for either.
Heere is a Gentleman whom by chance I met
Vpon agreement from vs to his liking,
Will vndertake to woo curst Katherine,
Yea, and to marrie her, if her dowrie please

   Gre. So said, so done, is well:
Hortensio, haue you told him all her faults?
  Petr. I know she is an irkesome brawling scold:
If that be all Masters, I heare no harme

   Gre. No, sayst me so, friend? What Countreyman?
  Petr. Borne in Verona, old Butonios sonne:
My father dead, my fortune liues for me,
And I do hope, good dayes and long, to see

   Gre. Oh sir, such a life with such a wife, were strange:
But if you haue a stomacke, too't a Gods name,
You shal haue me assisting you in all.
But will you woo this Wilde-cat?
  Petr. Will I liue?
  Gru. Wil he woo her? I: or Ile hang her

   Petr. Why came I hither, but to that intent?
Thinke you, a little dinne can daunt mine eares?
Haue I not in my time heard Lions rore?
Haue I not heard the sea, puft vp with windes,
Rage like an angry Boare, chafed with sweat?
Haue I not heard great Ordnance in the field?
And heauens Artillerie thunder in the skies?
Haue I not in a pitched battell heard
Loud larums, neighing steeds, & trumpets clangue?
And do you tell me of a womans tongue?
That giues not halfe so great a blow to heare,
As wil a Chesse-nut in a Farmers fire.
Tush, tush, feare boyes with bugs

   Gru. For he feares none

   Grem. Hortensio hearke:
This Gentleman is happily arriu'd,
My minde presumes for his owne good, and yours

   Hor. I promist we would be Contributors,
And beare his charge of wooing whatsoere

   Gremio. And so we wil, prouided that he win her

   Gru. I would I were as sure of a good dinner.
Enter Tranio braue, and Biondello.

  Tra. Gentlemen God saue you. If I may be bold
Tell me I beseech you, which is the readiest way
To the house of Signior Baptista Minola?
  Bion. He that ha's the two faire daughters: ist he you
meane?
  Tra. Euen he Biondello

   Gre. Hearke you sir, you meane not her to-
  Tra. Perhaps him and her sir, what haue you to do?
  Petr. Not her that chides sir, at any hand I pray

   Tranio. I loue no chiders sir: Biondello, let's away

   Luc. Well begun Tranio

   Hor. Sir, a word ere you go:
Are you a sutor to the Maid you talke of, yea or no?
  Tra. And if I be sir, is it any offence?
  Gremio. No: if without more words you will get you
hence

   Tra. Why sir, I pray are not the streets as free
For me, as for you?
  Gre. But so is not she

   Tra. For what reason I beseech you

   Gre. For this reason if you'l kno,
That she's the choise loue of Signior Gremio

   Hor. That she's the chosen of signior Hortensio

   Tra. Softly my Masters: If you be Gentlemen
Do me this right: heare me with patience.
Baptista is a noble Gentleman,
To whom my Father is not all vnknowne,
And were his daughter fairer then she is,
She may more sutors haue, and me for one.
Faire Laedaes daughter had a thousand wooers,
Then well one more may faire Bianca haue;
And so she shall: Lucentio shal make one,
Though Paris came, in hope to speed alone

   Gre. What, this Gentleman will out-talke vs all

   Luc. Sir giue him head, I know hee'l proue a Iade

   Petr. Hortensio, to what end are all these words?
  Hor. Sir, let me be so bold as aske you,
Did you yet euer see Baptistas daughter?
  Tra. No sir, but heare I do that he hath two:
The one, as famous for a scolding tongue,
As is the other, for beauteous modestie

   Petr. Sir, sir, the first's for me, let her go by

   Gre. Yea, leaue that labour to great Hercules,
And let it be more then Alcides twelue

   Petr. Sir vnderstand you this of me (insooth)
The yongest daughter whom you hearken for,
Her father keepes from all accesse of sutors,
And will not promise her to any man,
Vntill the elder sister first be wed.
The yonger then is free, and not before

   Tranio. If it be so sir, that you are the man
Must steed vs all, and me amongst the rest:
And if you breake the ice, and do this seeke,
Atchieue the elder: set the yonger free,
For our accesse, whose hap shall be to haue her,
Wil not so gracelesse be, to be ingrate

   Hor. Sir you say wel, and wel you do conceiue,
And since you do professe to be a sutor,
You must as we do, gratifie this Gentleman,
To whom we all rest generally beholding

   Tranio. Sir, I shal not be slacke, in signe whereof,
Please ye we may contriue this afternoone,
And quaffe carowses to our Mistresse health,
And do as aduersaries do in law,
Striue mightily, but eate and drinke as friends

   Gru. Bion. Oh excellent motion: fellowes let's be gon

   Hor. The motions good indeed, and be it so,
Petruchio, I shal be your Been venuto.

Exeunt.

Enter Katherina and Bianca.

  Bian. Good sister wrong me not, nor wrong your self,
To make a bondmaide and a slaue of mee,
That I disdaine: but for these other goods,
Vnbinde my hands, Ile pull them off my selfe,
Yea all my raiment, to my petticoate,
Or what you will command me, wil I do,
So well I know my dutie to my elders

   Kate. Of all thy sutors heere I charge tel
Whom thou lou'st best: see thou dissemble not

   Bianca. Beleeue me sister, of all the men aliue,
I neuer yet beheld that speciall face,
Which I could fancie, more then any other

   Kate. Minion thou lyest: Is't not Hortensio?
  Bian. If you affect him sister, heere I sweare
Ile pleade for you my selfe, but you shal haue him

   Kate. Oh then belike you fancie riches more,
You wil haue Gremio to keepe you faire

   Bian. Is it for him you do enuie me so?
Nay then you iest, and now I wel perceiue
You haue but iested with me all this while:
I prethee sister Kate, vntie my hands

   Ka. If that be iest, then all the rest was so.

Strikes her

Enter Baptista.

  Bap. Why how now Dame, whence growes this insolence?
Bianca stand aside, poore gyrle she weepes:
Go ply thy Needle, meddle not with her.
For shame thou Hilding of a diuellish spirit,
Why dost thou wrong her, that did nere wrong thee?
When did she crosse thee with a bitter word?
  Kate. Her silence flouts me, and Ile be reueng'd.

Flies after Bianca

  Bap. What in my sight? Bianca get thee in.
Enter.

  Kate. What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see
She is your treasure, she must haue a husband,
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day,
And for your loue to her, leade Apes in hell.
Talke not to me, I will go sit and weepe,
Till I can finde occasion of reuenge

   Bap. Was euer Gentleman thus greeu'd as I?
But who comes heere.
Enter Gremio, Lucentio, in the habit of a meane man, Petruchio
with
Tranio, with his boy bearing a Lute and Bookes.

  Gre. Good morrow neighbour Baptista

   Bap. Good morrow neighbour Gremio: God saue
you Gentlemen

   Pet. And you good sir: pray haue you not a daughter,
cal'd Katerina, faire and vertuous

   Bap. I haue a daughter sir, cal'd Katerina

   Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly

   Pet. You wrong me signior Gremio, giue me leaue.
I am a Gentleman of Verona sir,
That hearing of her beautie, and her wit,
Her affability and bashfull modestie:
Her wondrous qualities, and milde behauiour,
Am bold to shew my selfe a forward guest
Within your house, to make mine eye the witnesse
Of that report, which I so oft haue heard,
And for an entrance to my entertainment,
I do present you with a man of mine
Cunning in Musicke, and the Mathematickes,
To instruct her fully in those sciences,
Whereof I know she is not ignorant,
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong.
His name is Litio, borne in Mantua

   Bap. Y'are welcome sir, and he for your good sake.
But for my daughter Katerine, this I know,
She is not for your turne, the more my greefe

   Pet. I see you do not meane to part with her,
Or else you like not of my companie

   Bap. Mistake me not, I speake but as I finde,
Whence are you sir? What may I call your name

   Pet. Petruchio is my name, Antonio's sonne,
A man well knowne throughout all Italy

   Bap. I know him well: you are welcome for his sake

   Gre. Sauing your tale Petruchio, I pray let vs that are
poore petitioners speake too? Bacare, you are meruaylous
forward

   Pet. Oh, Pardon me signior Gremio, I would faine be
doing

   Gre. I doubt it not sir. But you will curse
Your wooing neighbors: this is a guift
Very gratefull, I am sure of it, to expresse
The like kindnesse my selfe, that haue beene
More kindely beholding to you then any:
Freely giue vnto this yong Scholler, that hath
Beene long studying at Rhemes, as cunning
In Greeke, Latine, and other Languages,
As the other in Musicke and Mathematickes:
His name is Cambio: pray accept his seruice

   Bap. A thousand thankes signior Gremio:
Welcome good Cambio. But gentle sir,
Me thinkes you walke like a stranger,
May I be so bold, to know the cause of your comming?
  Tra. Pardon me sir, the boldnesse is mine owne,
That being a stranger in this Cittie heere,
Do make my selfe a sutor to your daughter,
Vnto Bianca, faire and vertuous:
Nor is your firme resolue vnknowne to me,
In the preferment of the eldest sister.
This liberty is all that I request,
That vpon knowledge of my Parentage,
I may haue welcome 'mongst the rest that woo,
And free accesse and fauour as the rest.
And toward the education of your daughters:
I heere bestow a simple instrument,
And this small packet of Greeke and Latine bookes:
If you accept them, then their worth is great:
  Bap. Lucentio is your name, of whence I pray

   Tra. Of Pisa sir, sonne to Vincentio

   Bap. A mightie man of Pisa by report,
I know him well: you are verie welcome sir:
Take you the Lute, and you the set of bookes,
You shall go see your Pupils presently.
Holla, within.

Enter a Seruant

Sirrah, leade these Gentlemen
To my daughters, and tell them both
These are their Tutors, bid them vse them well,
We will go walke a little in the Orchard,
And then to dinner: you are passing welcome,
And so I pray you all to thinke your selues

   Pet. Signior Baptista, my businesse asketh haste,
And euerie day I cannot come to woo,
You knew my father well, and in him me,
Left solie heire to all his Lands and goods,
Which I haue bettered rather then decreast,
Then tell me, if I get your daughters loue,
What dowrie shall I haue with her to wife

   Bap. After my death, the one halfe of my Lands,
And in possession twentie thousand Crownes

   Pet. And for that dowrie, Ile assure her of
Her widdow-hood, be it that she suruiue me
In all my Lands and Leases whatsoeuer,
Let specialties be therefore drawne betweene vs,
That couenants may be kept on either hand

   Bap. I, when the speciall thing is well obtain'd,
That is her loue: for that is all in all

   Pet. Why that is nothing: for I tell you father,
I am as peremptorie as she proud minded:
And where two raging fires meete together,
They do consume the thing that feedes their furie.
Though little fire growes great with little winde,
Yet extreme gusts will blow out fire and all:
So I to her, and so she yeelds to me,
For I am rough, and woo not like a babe

   Bap. Well maist thou woo, and happy be thy speed:
But be thou arm'd for some vnhappie words

   Pet. I to the proofe, as Mountaines are for windes,
That shakes not, though they blow perpetually.
Enter Hortensio with his head broke.

  Bap. How now my friend, why dost thou looke so
pale?
  Hor. For feare I promise you, if I looke pale

   Bap. What, will my daughter proue a good Musitian?
  Hor. I thinke she'l sooner proue a souldier,
Iron may hold with her, but neuer Lutes

   Bap. Why then thou canst not break her to the Lute?
  Hor. Why no, for she hath broke the Lute to me:
I did but tell her she mistooke her frets,
And bow'd her hand to teach her fingering,
When (with a most impatient diuellish spirit)
Frets call you these? (quoth she) Ile fume with them:
And with that word she stroke me on the head,
And through the instrument my pate made way,
And there I stood amazed for a while,
As on a Pillorie, looking through the Lute,
While she did call me Rascall, Fidler,
And twangling Iacke, with twentie such vilde tearmes,
As had she studied to misvse me so

   Pet. Now by the world, it is a lustie Wench,
I loue her ten times more then ere I did,
Oh how I long to haue some chat with her

   Bap. Wel go with me, and be not so discomfited.
Proceed in practise with my yonger daughter,
She's apt to learne, and thankefull for good turnes:
Signior Petruchio, will you go with vs,
Or shall I send my daughter Kate to you.

Exit. Manet Petruchio.

  Pet. I pray you do. Ile attend her heere,
And woo her with some spirit when she comes,
Say that she raile, why then Ile tell her plaine,
She sings as sweetly as a Nightinghale:
Say that she frowne, Ile say she lookes as cleere
As morning Roses newly washt with dew:
Say she be mute, and will not speake a word,
Then Ile commend her volubility,
And say she vttereth piercing eloquence:
If she do bid me packe, Ile giue her thankes,
As though she bid me stay by her a weeke:
If she denie to wed, Ile craue the day
When I shall aske the banes, and when be married.
But heere she comes, and now Petruchio speake.

Enter Katerina

Good morrow Kate, for thats your name I heare

   Kate. Well haue you heard, but something hard of
hearing:
They call me Katerine, that do talke of me

   Pet. You lye infaith, for you are call'd plaine Kate,
And bony Kate, and sometimes Kate the curst:
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendome,
Kate of Kate-hall, my super-daintie Kate,
For dainties are all Kates, and therefore Kate
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation,
Hearing thy mildnesse prais'd in euery Towne,
Thy vertues spoke of, and thy beautie sounded,
Yet not so deepely as to thee belongs,
My selfe am moou'd to woo thee for my wife

   Kate. Mou'd, in good time, let him that mou'd you
hether
Remoue you hence: I knew you at the first
You were a mouable

   Pet. Why, what's a mouable?
  Kat. A ioyn'd stoole

   Pet. Thou hast hit it: come sit on me

   Kate. Asses are made to beare, and so are you

   Pet. Women are made to beare, and so are you

   Kate. No such Iade as you, if me you meane

   Pet. Alas good Kate, I will not burthen thee,
For knowing thee to be but yong and light

   Kate. Too light for such a swaine as you to catch,
And yet as heauie as my waight should be

   Pet. Shold be, should: buzze

   Kate. Well tane, and like a buzzard

   Pet. Oh slow-wing'd Turtle, shal a buzard take thee?
  Kat. I for a Turtle, as he takes a buzard

   Pet. Come, come you Waspe, y'faith you are too
angrie

   Kate. If I be waspish, best beware my sting

   Pet. My remedy is then to plucke it out

   Kate. I, if the foole could finde it where it lies

   Pet. Who knowes not where a Waspe does weare
his sting? In his taile

   Kate. In his tongue?
  Pet. Whose tongue

   Kate. Yours if you talke of tales, and so farewell

   Pet. What with my tongue in your taile.
Nay, come againe, good Kate, I am a Gentleman,
  Kate. That Ile trie.

She strikes him

  Pet. I sweare Ile cuffe you, if you strike againe

   Kate. So may you loose your armes,
If you strike me, you are no Gentleman,
And if no Gentleman, why then no armes

   Pet. A Herald Kate? Oh put me in thy bookes

   Kate. What is your Crest, a Coxcombe?
  Pet. A comblesse Cocke, so Kate will be my Hen

   Kate. No Cocke of mine, you crow too like a crauen
  Pet. Nay come Kate, come: you must not looke so
sowre

   Kate. It is my fashion when I see a Crab

   Pet. Why heere's no crab, and therefore looke not
sowre

   Kate. There is, there is

   Pet. Then shew it me

   Kate. Had I a glasse, I would

   Pet. What, you meane my face

   Kate. Well aym'd of such a yong one

   Pet. Now by S[aint]. George I am too yong for you

   Kate. Yet you are wither'd

   Pet. 'Tis with cares

   Kate. I care not

   Pet. Nay heare you Kate. Insooth you scape not so

   Kate. I chafe you if I tarrie. Let me go

   Pet. No, not a whit, I finde you passing gentle:
'Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen,
And now I finde report a very liar:
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing courteous,
But slow in speech: yet sweet as spring-time flowers.
Thou canst not frowne, thou canst not looke a sconce,
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will,
Nor hast thou pleasure to be crosse in talke:
But thou with mildnesse entertain'st thy wooers,
With gentle conference, soft, and affable.
Why does the world report that Kate doth limpe?
Oh sland'rous world: Kate like the hazle twig
Is straight, and slender, and as browne in hue
As hazle nuts, and sweeter then the kernels:
Oh let me see thee walke: thou dost not halt

   Kate. Go foole, and whom thou keep'st command

   Pet. Did euer Dian so become a Groue
As Kate this chamber with her princely gate:
O be thou Dian, and let her be Kate,
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sportfull

   Kate. Where did you study all this goodly speech?
  Petr. It is extempore, from my mother wit

   Kate. A witty mother, witlesse else her sonne

   Pet. Am I not wise?
  Kat. Yes, keepe you warme

   Pet. Marry so I meane sweet Katherine in thy bed:
And therefore setting all this chat aside,
Thus in plaine termes: your father hath consented
That you shall be my wife; your dowry greed on,
And will you, nill you, I will marry you.
Now Kate, I am a husband for your turne,
For by this light, whereby I see thy beauty,
Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well,
Thou must be married to no man but me,
Enter Baptista, Gremio, Trayno.

For I am he am borne to tame you Kate,
And bring you from a wilde Kate to a Kate
Conformable as other houshold Kates:
Heere comes your father, neuer make deniall,
I must, and will haue Katherine to my wife

   Bap. Now Signior Petruchio, how speed you with my daughter?
  Pet. How but well sir? how but well?
It were impossible I should speed amisse

   Bap. Why how now daughter Katherine, in your dumps?
  Kat. Call you me daughter? now I promise you
You haue shewd a tender fatherly regard,
To wish me wed to one halfe Lunaticke,
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Iacke,
That thinkes with oathes to face the matter out

   Pet. Father, 'tis thus, your selfe and all the world
That talk'd of her, haue talk'd amisse of her:
If she be curst, it is for pollicie,
For shee's not froward, but modest as the Doue,
Shee is not hot, but temperate as the morne,
For patience shee will proue a second Grissell,
And Romane Lucrece for her chastitie:
And to conclude, we haue greed so well together,
That vpon sonday is the wedding day

   Kate. Ile see thee hang'd on sonday first

   Gre. Hark Petruchio, she saies shee'll see thee hang'd first

   Tra. Is this your speeding? nay the[n] godnight our part

   Pet. Be patient gentlemen, I choose her for my selfe,
If she and I be pleas'd, what's that to you?
'Tis bargain'd twixt vs twaine being alone,
That she shall still be curst in company.
I tell you 'tis incredible to beleeue
How much she loues me: oh the kindest Kate,
Shee hung about my necke, and kisse on kisse
Shee vi'd so fast, protesting oath on oath,
That in a twinke she won me to her loue.
Oh you are nouices, 'tis a world to see
How tame when men and women are alone,
A meacocke wretch can make the curstest shrew:
Giue me thy hand Kate, I will vnto Venice
To buy apparell 'gainst the wedding day;
Prouide the feast father, and bid the guests,
I will be sure my Katherine shall be fine

   Bap. I know not what to say, but giue me your ha[n]ds,
God send you ioy, Petruchio, 'tis a match

   Gre. Tra. Amen say we, we will be witnesses

   Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen adieu,
I will to Venice, sonday comes apace,
We will haue rings, and things, and fine array,
And kisse me Kate, we will be married a sonday.

Exit Petruchio and Katherine.

  Gre. Was euer match clapt vp so sodainly?
  Bap. Faith Gentlemen now I play a marchants part,
And venture madly on a desperate Mart

   Tra. Twas a commodity lay fretting by you,
'Twill bring you gaine, or perish on the seas

   Bap. The gaine I seeke, is quiet me the match

   Gre. No doubt but he hath got a quiet catch:
But now Baptista, to your yonger daughter,
Now is the day we long haue looked for,
I am your neighbour, and was suter first

   Tra. And I am one that loue Bianca more
Then words can witnesse, or your thoughts can guesse

   Gre. Yongling thou canst not loue so deare as I

   Tra. Gray-beard thy loue doth freeze

   Gre. But thine doth frie,
Skipper stand backe, 'tis age that nourisheth

   Tra. But youth in Ladies eyes that florisheth

   Bap. Content you gentlemen, I wil co[m]pound this strife
'Tis deeds must win the prize, and he of both
That can assure my daughter greatest dower,
Shall haue my Biancas loue.
Say signior Gremio, what can you assure her?
  Gre. First, as you know, my house within the City
Is richly furnished with plate and gold,
Basons and ewers to laue her dainty hands:
My hangings all of tirian tapestry:
In Iuory cofers I haue stuft my crownes:
In Cypres chests my arras counterpoints,
Costly apparell, tents, and Canopies,
Fine Linnen, Turky cushions bost with pearle,
Vallens of Venice gold, in needle worke:
Pewter and brasse, and all things that belongs
To house or house-keeping: then at my farme
I haue a hundred milch-kine to the pale,
Sixe-score fat Oxen standing in my stalls,
And all things answerable to this portion.
My selfe am strooke in yeeres I must confesse,
And if I die to morrow this is hers,
If whil'st I liue she will be onely mine

   Tra. That only came well in: sir, list to me,
I am my fathers heyre and onely sonne,
If I may haue your daughter to my wife,
Ile leaue her houses three or foure as good
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one
Old Signior Gremio has in Padua,
Besides, two thousand Duckets by the yeere
Of fruitfull land, all which shall be her ioynter.
What, haue I pincht you Signior Gremio?
  Gre. Two thousand Duckets by the yeere of land,
My Land amounts not to so much in all:
That she shall haue, besides an Argosie
That now is lying in Marcellus roade:
What, haue I choakt you with an Argosie?
  Tra. Gremio, 'tis knowne my father hath no lesse
Then three great Argosies, besides two Galliasses
And twelue tite Gallies, these I will assure her,
And twice as much what ere thou offrest next

   Gre. Nay, I haue offred all, I haue no more,
And she can haue no more then all I haue,
If you like me, she shall haue me and mine

   Tra. Why then the maid is mine from all the world
By your firme promise, Gremio is out-vied

   Bap. I must confesse your offer is the best,
And let your father make her the assurance,
Shee is your owne, else you must pardon me:
If you should die before him, where's her dower?
  Tra. That's but a cauill: he is olde, I young

   Gre. And may not yong men die as well as old?
  Bap. Well gentlemen, I am thus resolu'd,
On sonday next, you know
My daughter Katherine is to be married:
Now on the sonday following, shall Bianca
Be Bride to you, if you make this assurance:
If not, to Signior Gremio:
And so I take my leaue, and thanke you both.
Enter.

  Gre. Adieu good neighbour: now I feare thee not:
Sirra, yong gamester, your father were a foole
To giue thee all, and in his wayning age
Set foot vnder thy table: tut, a toy,
An olde Italian foxe is not so kinde my boy.
Enter.

  Tra. A vengeance on your crafty withered hide,
Yet I haue fac'd it with a card of ten:
'Tis in my head to doe my master good:
I see no reason but suppos'd Lucentio
Must get a father, call'd suppos'd Vincentio,
And that's a wonder: fathers commonly
Doe get their children: but in this case of woing,
A childe shall get a sire, if I faile not of my cunning.
Enter.


Actus Tertia.

Enter Lucentio, Hortentio, and Bianca.

  Luc. Fidler forbeare, you grow too forward Sir,
Haue you so soone forgot the entertainment
Her sister Katherine welcom'd you withall

   Hort. But wrangling pedant, this is
The patronesse of heauenly harmony:
Then giue me leaue to haue prerogatiue,
And when in Musicke we haue spent an houre,
Your Lecture shall haue leisure for as much

   Luc. Preposterous Asse that neuer read so farre,
To know the cause why musicke was ordain'd:
Was it not to refresh the minde of man
After his studies, or his vsuall paine?
Then giue me leaue to read Philosophy,
And while I pause, serue in your harmony

   Hort. Sirra, I will not beare these braues of thine

   Bianc. Why gentlemen, you doe me double wrong,
To striue for that which resteth in my choice:
I am no breeching scholler in the schooles,
Ile not be tied to howres, nor pointed times,
But learne my Lessons as I please my selfe,
And to cut off all strife: heere sit we downe,
Take you your instrument, play you the whiles,
His Lecture will be done ere you haue tun'd

   Hort. You'll leaue his Lecture when I am in tune?
  Luc. That will be neuer, tune your instrument

   Bian. Where left we last?
  Luc. Heere Madam: Hic Ibat Simois, hic est sigeria
tellus, hic steterat Priami regia Celsa senis

   Bian. Conster them

   Luc. Hic Ibat, as I told you before, Simois, I am Lucentio,
hic est, sonne vnto Vincentio of Pisa, Sigeria tellus,
disguised thus to get your loue, hic steterat, and that
Lucentio that comes a wooing, priami, is my man Tranio,
regia, bearing my port, celsa senis that we might beguile
the old Pantalowne

   Hort. Madam, my Instrument's in tune

   Bian. Let's heare, oh fie, the treble iarres

   Luc. Spit in the hole man, and tune againe

   Bian. Now let mee see if I can conster it. Hic ibat simois,
I know you not, hic est sigeria tellus, I trust you not,
hic staterat priami, take heede he heare vs not, regia presume
not, Celsa senis, despaire not

   Hort. Madam, tis now in tune

   Luc. All but the base

   Hort. The base is right, 'tis the base knaue that iars

   Luc. How fiery and forward our Pedant is,
Now for my life the knaue doth court my loue,
Pedascule, Ile watch you better yet:
In time I may beleeue, yet I mistrust

   Bian. Mistrust it not, for sure Aeacides
Was Aiax cald so from his grandfather

   Hort. I must beleeue my master, else I promise you,
I should be arguing still vpon that doubt,
But let it rest, now Litio to you:
Good master take it not vnkindly pray
That I haue beene thus pleasant with you both

   Hort. You may go walk, and giue me leaue a while,
My Lessons make no musicke in three parts

   Luc. Are you so formall sir, well I must waite
And watch withall, for but I be deceiu'd,
Our fine Musitian groweth amorous

   Hor. Madam, before you touch the instrument,
To learne the order of my fingering,
I must begin with rudiments of Art,
To teach you gamoth in a briefer sort,
More pleasant, pithy, and effectuall,
Then hath beene taught by any of my trade,
And there it is in writing fairely drawne

   Bian. Why, I am past my gamouth long agoe

   Hor. Yet read the gamouth of Hortentio

   Bian. Gamouth I am, the ground of all accord:
Are, to plead Hortensio's passion:
Beeme, Bianca take him for thy Lord
Cfavt, that loues with all affection:
D sol re, one Cliffe, two notes haue I,
Ela mi, show pitty or I die,
Call you this gamouth? tut I like it not,
Old fashions please me best, I am not so nice
To charge true rules for old inuentions.
Enter a Messenger.

  Nicke. Mistresse, your father prayes you leaue your books,
And helpe to dresse your sisters chamber vp,
You know to morrow is the wedding day

   Bian. Farewell sweet masters both, I must be gone

   Luc. Faith Mistresse then I haue no cause to stay

   Hor. But I haue cause to pry into this pedant,
Methinkes he lookes as though he were in loue:
Yet if thy thoughts Bianca be so humble
To cast thy wandring eyes on euery stale:
Seize thee that List, if once I finde thee ranging,
Hortensio will be quit with thee by changing.
Enter.

Enter Baptista, Gremio, Tranio, Katherine, Bianca, and others,
attendants.

  Bap. Signior Lucentio, this is the pointed day
That Katherine and Petruchio should be married,
And yet we heare not of our sonne in Law:
What will be said, what mockery will it be?
To want the Bride-groome when the Priest attends
To speake the ceremoniall rites of marriage?
What saies Lucentio to this shame of ours?
  Kate. No shame but mine, I must forsooth be forst
To giue my hand oppos'd against my heart
Vnto a mad-braine rudesby, full of spleene,
Who woo'd in haste, and meanes to wed at leysure:
I told you I, he was a franticke foole,
Hiding his bitter iests in blunt behauiour,
And to be noted for a merry man;
Hee'll wooe a thousand, point the day of marriage,
Make friends, inuite, and proclaime the banes,
Yet neuer meanes to wed where he hath woo'd:
Now must the world point at poore Katherine,
And say, loe, there is mad Petruchio's wife
If it would please him come and marry her

   Tra. Patience good Katherine and Baptista too,
Vpon my life Petruchio meanes but well,
What euer fortune stayes him from his word,
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise,
Though he be merry, yet withall he's honest

   Kate. Would Katherine had neuer seen him though.

Exit weeping.

  Bap. Goe girle, I cannot blame thee now to weepe,
For such an iniurie would vexe a very saint,
Much more a shrew of impatient humour.
Enter Biondello.

  Bion. Master, master, newes, and such newes as you
neuer heard of,
  Bap. Is it new and olde too? how may that be?
  Bion. Why, is it not newes to heard of Petruchio's comming?
  Bap. Is he come?
  Bion. Why no sir

   Bap. What then?
  Bion. He is comming

   Bap. When will he be heere?
  Bion. When he stands where I am, and sees you there

   Tra. But say, what to thine olde newes?
  Bion. Why Petruchio is comming, in a new hat and
an old ierkin, a paire of old breeches thrice turn'd; a
paire of bootes that haue beene candle-cases, one buckled,
another lac'd: an olde rusty sword tane out of the
Towne Armory, with a broken hilt, and chapelesse: with
two broken points: his horse hip'd with an olde mothy
saddle, and stirrops of no kindred: besides possest
with the glanders, and like to mose in the chine, troubled
with the Lampasse, infected with the fashions, full
of Windegalls, sped with Spauins, raied with the Yellowes,
past cure of the Fiues, starke spoyl'd with the
Staggers, begnawne with the Bots, Waid in the backe,
and shoulder-shotten, neere leg'd before, and with a
halfe-chekt Bitte, & a headstall of sheepes leather, which
being restrain'd to keepe him from stumbling, hath been
often burst, and now repaired with knots: one girth sixe
times peec'd, and a womans Crupper of velure, which
hath two letters for her name, fairely set down in studs,
and heere and there peec'd with packthred

   Bap. Who comes with him?
  Bion. Oh sir, his Lackey, for all the world Caparison'd
like the horse: with a linnen stock on one leg, and
a kersey boot-hose on the other, gartred with a red and
blew list; an old hat, & the humor of forty fancies prickt
in't for a feather: a monster, a very monster in apparell,
& not like a Christian foot-boy, or a gentlemans Lacky

   Tra. 'Tis some od humor pricks him to this fashion,
Yet oftentimes he goes but meane apparel'd

   Bap. I am glad he's come, howsoere he comes

   Bion. Why sir, he comes not

   Bap. Didst thou not say hee comes?
  Bion. Who, that Petruchio came?
  Bap. I, that Petruchio came

   Bion. No sir, I say his horse comes with him on his backe

   Bap. Why that's all one

   Bion. Nay by S[aint]. Iamy, I hold you a penny, a horse and
a man is more then one, and yet not many.
Enter Petruchio and Grumio.

  Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who's at home?
  Bap. You are welcome sir

   Petr. And yet I come not well

   Bap. And yet you halt not

   Tra. Not so well apparell'd as I wish you were

   Petr. Were it better I should rush in thus:
But where is Kate? where is my louely Bride?
How does my father? gentles methinkes you frowne,
And wherefore gaze this goodly company,
As if they saw some wondrous monument,
Some Commet, or vnusuall prodigie?
  Bap. Why sir, you know this is your wedding day:
First were we sad, fearing you would not come,
Now sadder that you come so vnprouided:
Fie, doff this habit, shame to your estate,
An eye-sore to our solemne festiuall

   Tra. And tell vs what occasion of import
Hath all so long detain'd you from your wife,
And sent you hither so vnlike your selfe?
  Petr. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to heare,
Sufficeth I am come to keepe my word,
Though in some part inforced to digresse,
Which at more leysure I will so excuse,
As you shall well be satisfied with all.
But where is Kate? I stay too long from her,
The morning weares, 'tis time we were at Church

   Tra. See not your Bride in these vnreuerent robes,
Goe to my chamber, put on clothes of mine

   Pet. Not I, beleeue me, thus Ile visit her

   Bap. But thus I trust you will not marry her

   Pet. Good sooth euen thus: therefore ha done with words,
To me she's married, not vnto my cloathes:
Could I repaire what she will weare in me,
As I can change these poore accoutrements,
'Twere well for Kate, and better for my selfe.
But what a foole am I to chat with you,
When I should bid good morrow to my Bride?
And seale the title with a louely kisse.
Enter.

  Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad attire,
We will perswade him be it possible,
To put on better ere he goe to Church

   Bap. Ile after him, and see the euent of this.
Enter.

  Tra. But sir, Loue concerneth vs to adde
Her fathers liking, which to bring to passe
As before imparted to your worship,
I am to get a man what ere he be,
It skills not much, weele fit him to our turne,
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa,
And make assurance heere in Padua
Of greater summes then I haue promised,
So shall you quietly enioy your hope,
And marry sweet Bianca with consent

   Luc. Were it not that my fellow schoolemaster
Doth watch Bianca's steps so narrowly:
'Twere good me-thinkes to steale our marriage,
Which once perform'd, let all the world say no,
Ile keepe mine owne despite of all the world

   Tra. That by degrees we meane to looke into,
And watch our vantage in this businesse,
Wee'll ouer-reach the grey-beard Gremio,
The narrow prying father Minola,
The quaint Musician, amorous Litio,
All for my Masters sake Lucentio.
Enter Gremio.

Signior Gremio, came you from the Church?
  Gre. As willingly as ere I came from schoole

   Tra. And is the Bride & Bridegroom coming home?
  Gre. A bridegroome say you? 'tis a groome indeed,
A grumlling groome, and that the girle shall finde

   Tra. Curster then she, why 'tis impossible

   Gre. Why hee's a deuill, a deuill, a very fiend

   Tra. Why she's a deuill, a deuill, the deuils damme

   Gre. Tut, she's a Lambe, a Doue, a foole to him:
Ile tell you sir Lucentio; when the Priest
Should aske if Katherine should be his wife,
I, by goggs woones quoth he, and swore so loud,
That all amaz'd the Priest let fall the booke,
And as he stoop'd againe to take it vp,
This mad-brain'd bridegroome tooke him such a cuffe,
That downe fell Priest and booke, and booke and Priest,
Now take them vp quoth he, if any list

   Tra. What said the wench when he rose againe?
  Gre. Trembled and shooke: for why, he stamp'd and
swore, as if the Vicar meant to cozen him: but after many
ceremonies done, hee calls for wine, a health quoth
he, as if he had beene aboord carowsing to his Mates after
a storme, quaft off the Muscadell, and threw the sops
all in the Sextons face: hauing no other reason, but that
his beard grew thinne and hungerly, and seem'd to aske
him sops as hee was drinking: This done, hee tooke the
Bride about the necke, and kist her lips with such a clamorous
smacke, that at the parting all the Church did
eccho: and I seeing this, came thence for very shame, and
after mee I know the rout is comming, such a mad marryage
neuer was before: harke, harke, I heare the minstrels
play.

Musicke playes.

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Bianca, Hortensio, Baptista.

  Petr. Gentlemen & friends, I thank you for your pains,
I know you thinke to dine with me to day,
And haue prepar'd great store of wedding cheere,
But so it is, my haste doth call me hence,
And therefore heere I meane to take my leaue

   Bap. Is't possible you will away to night?
  Pet. I must away to day before night come,
Make it no wonder: if you knew my businesse,
You would intreat me rather goe then stay:
And honest company, I thanke you all,
That haue beheld me giue away my selfe
To this most patient, sweet, and vertuous wife,
Dine with my father, drinke a health to me,
For I must hence, and farewell to you all

   Tra. Let vs intreat you stay till after dinner

   Pet. It may not be

   Gra. Let me intreat you

   Pet. It cannot be

   Kat. Let me intreat you

   Pet. I am content

   Kat. Are you content to stay?
  Pet. I am content you shall entreat me stay,
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can

   Kat. Now if you loue me stay

   Pet. Grumio, my horse

   Gru. I sir, they be ready, the Oates haue eaten the
horses

   Kate. Nay then,
Doe what thou canst, I will not goe to day,
No, nor to morrow, not till I please my selfe,
The dore is open sir, there lies your way,
You may be iogging whiles your bootes are greene:
For me, Ile not be gone till I please my selfe,
'Tis like you'll proue a iolly surly groome,
That take it on you at the first so roundly

   Pet. O Kate content thee, prethee be not angry

   Kat. I will be angry, what hast thou to doe?
Father, be quiet, he shall stay my leisure

   Gre. I marry sir, now it begins to worke

   Kat. Gentlemen, forward to the bridall dinner,
I see a woman may be made a foole
If she had not a spirit to resist

   Pet. They shall goe forward Kate at thy command,
Obey the Bride you that attend on her.
Goe to the feast, reuell and domineere,
Carowse full measure to her maiden-head,
Be madde and merry, or goe hang your selues:
But for my bonny Kate, she must with me:
Nay, looke not big, nor stampe, not stare, nor fret,
I will be master of what is mine owne,
Shee is my goods, my chattels, she is my house,
My houshold-stuffe, my field, my barne,
My horse, my oxe, my asse, my any thing,
And heere she stands, touch her who euer dare,
Ile bring mine action on the proudest he
That stops my way in Padua: Grumio
Draw forth thy weapon, we are beset with theeues,
Rescue thy Mistresse if thou be a man:
Feare not sweet wench, they shall not touch thee Kate,
Ile buckler thee against a Million.

Exeunt. P. Ka.

  Bap. Nay, let them goe, a couple of quiet ones

   Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die with laughing

   Tra. Of all mad matches neuer was the like

   Luc. Mistresse, what's your opinion of your sister?
  Bian. That being mad her selfe, she's madly mated

   Gre. I warrant him Petruchio is Kated

   Bap. Neighbours and friends, though Bride & Bridegroom wants
For to supply the places at the table,
You know there wants no iunkets at the feast:
Lucentio, you shall supply the Bridegroomes place,
And let Bianca take her sisters roome

   Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to bride it?
  Bap. She shall Lucentio: come gentlemen lets goe.
Enter Grumio.


Exeunt.

  Gru. Fie, fie on all tired Iades, on all mad Masters, &
all foule waies: was euer man so beaten? was euer man
so raide? was euer man so weary? I am sent before to
make a fire, and they are comming after to warme them:
now were not I a little pot, & soone hot; my very lippes
might freeze to my teeth, my tongue to the roofe of my
mouth, my heart in my belly, ere I should come by a fire
to thaw me, but I with blowing the fire shall warme my
selfe: for considering the weather, a taller man then I
will take cold: Holla, hoa Curtis.
Enter Curtis.

  Curt. Who is that calls so coldly?
  Gru. A piece of Ice: if thou doubt it, thou maist
slide from my shoulder to my heele, with no
greater a run but my head and my necke. A fire good
Curtis

   Cur. Is my master and his wife comming Grumio?
  Gru. Oh I Curtis I, and therefore fire, fire, cast on no
water

   Cur. Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported

   Gru. She was good Curtis before this frost: but thou
know'st winter tames man, woman, and beast: for it
hath tam'd my old master, and my new mistris, and my
selfe fellow Curtis

   Gru. Away you three inch foole, I am no beast

   Gru. Am I but three inches? Why thy horne is a foot
and so long am I at the least. But wilt thou make a fire,
or shall I complaine on thee to our mistris, whose hand
(she being now at hand) thou shalt soone feele, to thy
cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot office

   Cur. I prethee good Grumio, tell me, how goes the
world?
  Gru. A cold world Curtis in euery office but thine, &
therefore fire: do thy duty, and haue thy dutie, for my
Master and mistris are almost frozen to death

   Cur. There's fire readie, and therefore good Grumio
the newes

   Gru. Why Iacke boy, ho boy, and as much newes as
wilt thou

   Cur. Come, you are so full of conicatching

   Gru. Why therefore fire, for I haue caught extreme
cold. Where's the Cooke, is supper ready, the house
trim'd, rushes strew'd, cobwebs swept, the seruingmen
in their new fustian, the white stockings, and euery officer
his wedding garment on? Be the Iackes faire within,
the Gils faire without, the Carpets laide, and euerie
thing in order?
  Cur. All readie: and therefore I pray thee newes

   Gru. First know my horse is tired, my master & mistris
falne out

   Cur. How?
  Gru. Out of their saddles into the durt, and thereby
hangs a tale

   Cur. Let's ha't good Grumio

   Gru. Lend thine eare

   Cur. Heere

   Gru. There

   Cur. This 'tis to feele a tale, not to heare a tale

   Gru. And therefore 'tis cal'd a sensible tale: and this
Cuffe was but to knocke at your eare, and beseech listning:
now I begin, Inprimis wee came downe a fowle
hill, my Master riding behinde my Mistris

   Cur. Both of one horse?
  Gru. What's that to thee?
  Cur. Why a horse

   Gru. Tell thou the tale: but hadst thou not crost me,
thou shouldst haue heard how her horse fel, and she vnder
her horse: thou shouldst haue heard in how miery a
place, how she was bemoil'd, how hee left her with the
horse vpon her, how he beat me because her horse stumbled,
how she waded through the durt to plucke him off
me: how he swore, how she prai'd, that neuer prai'd before:
how I cried, how the horses ranne away, how her
bridle was burst: how I lost my crupper, with manie
things of worthy memorie, which now shall die in obliuion,
and thou returne vnexperienc'd to thy graue

   Cur. By this reckning he is more shrew than she

   Gru. I, and that thou and the proudest of you all shall
finde when he comes home. But what talke I of this?
Call forth Nathaniel, Ioseph, Nicholas, Phillip, Walter, Sugersop
and the rest: let their heads bee slickely comb'd,
their blew coats brush'd, and their garters of an indifferent
knit, let them curtsie with their left legges, and not
presume to touch a haire of my Masters horse-taile, till
they kisse their hands. Are they all readie?
  Cur. They are

   Gru. Call them forth

   Cur. Do you heare ho? you must meete my maister
to countenance my mistris

   Gru. Why she hath a face of her owne

   Cur. Who knowes not that?
  Gru. Thou it seemes, that cals for company to countenance
her

   Cur. I call them forth to credit her.
Enter foure or fiue seruingmen.

  Gru. Why she comes to borrow nothing of them

   Nat. Welcome home Grumio

   Phil. How now Grumio

   Ios. What Grumio

   Nick. Fellow Grumio

   Nat. How now old lad

   Gru. Welcome you: how now you: what you: fellow
you: and thus much for greeting. Now my spruce
companions, is all readie, and all things neate?
  Nat. All things is readie, how neere is our master?
  Gre. E'ne at hand, alighted by this: and therefore be
not- Cockes passion, silence, I heare my master.
Enter Petruchio and Kate.

  Pet. Where be these knaues? What no man at doore
To hold my stirrop, nor to take my horse?
Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Phillip

   All ser. Heere, heere sir, heere sir

   Pet. Heere sir, heere sir, heere sir, heere sir.
You logger-headed and vnpollisht groomes:
What? no attendance? no regard? no dutie?
Where is the foolish knaue I sent before?
  Gru. Heere sir, as foolish as I was before

   Pet. You pezant, swain, you horson malt-horse drudg
Did I not bid thee meete me in the Parke,
And bring along these rascal knaues with thee?
  Grumio. Nathaniels coate sir was not fully made,
And Gabrels pumpes were all vnpinkt i'th heele:
There was no Linke to colour Peters hat,
And Walters dagger was not come from sheathing:
There were none fine, but Adam, Rafe, and Gregory,
The rest were ragged, old, and beggerly,
Yet as they are, heere are they come to meete you

   Pet. Go rascals, go, and fetch my supper in.

Ex. Ser.

Where is the life that late I led?
Where are those? Sit downe Kate,
And welcome. Soud, soud, soud, soud.
Enter seruants with supper.

Why when I say? Nay good sweete Kate be merrie.
Off with my boots, you rogues: you villaines, when?
It was the Friar of Orders gray,
As he forth walked on his way.
Out you rogue, you plucke my foote awrie,
Take that, and mend the plucking of the other.
Be merrie Kate: Some water heere: what hoa.
Enter one with water.

Where's my Spaniel Troilus? Sirra, get you hence,
And bid my cozen Ferdinand come hither:
One Kate that you must kisse, and be acquainted with.
Where are my Slippers? Shall I haue some water?
Come Kate and wash, & welcome heartily:
You horson villaine, will you let it fall?
  Kate. Patience I pray you, 'twas a fault vnwilling

   Pet. A horson beetle-headed flap-ear'd knaue:
Come Kate sit downe, I know you haue a stomacke,
Will you giue thankes, sweete Kate, or else shall I?
What's this, Mutton?
  1.Ser. I

   Pet. Who brought it?
  Peter. I

   Pet. 'Tis burnt, and so is all the meate:
What dogges are these? Where is the rascall Cooke?
How durst you villaines bring it from the dresser
And serue it thus to me that loue it not?
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all:
You heedlesse iolt-heads, and vnmanner'd slaues.
What, do you grumble? Ile be with you straight

   Kate. I pray you husband be not so disquiet,
The meate was well, if you were so contented

   Pet. I tell thee Kate, 'twas burnt and dried away,
And I expressely am forbid to touch it:
For it engenders choller, planteth anger,
And better 'twere that both of vs did fast,
Since of our selues, our selues are chollericke,
Then feede it with such ouer-rosted flesh:
Be patient, to morrow't shalbe mended,
And for this night we'l fast for companie.
Come I wil bring thee to thy Bridall chamber.

Exeunt.

Enter Seruants seuerally.

  Nath. Peter didst euer see the like

   Peter. He kils her in her owne humor

   Grumio. Where is he?
Enter Curtis a Seruant.

  Cur. In her chamber, making a sermon of continencie
to her, and railes, and sweares, and rates, that shee
(poore soule) knowes not which way to stand, to looke,
to speake, and sits as one new risen from a dreame. Away,
away, for he is comming hither.
Enter Petruchio.

  Pet. Thus haue I politickely begun my reigne,
And 'tis my hope to end successefully:
My Faulcon now is sharpe, and passing emptie,
And til she stoope, she must not be full gorg'd,
For then she neuer lookes vpon her lure.
Another way I haue to man my Haggard,
To make her come, and know her Keepers call:
That is, to watch her, as we watch these Kites,
That baite, and beate, and will not be obedient:
She eate no meate to day, nor none shall eate.
Last night she slept not, nor to night she shall not:
As with the meate, some vndeserued fault
Ile finde about the making of the bed,
And heere Ile fling the pillow, there the boulster,
This way the Couerlet, another way the sheets:
I, and amid this hurlie I intend,
That all is done in reuerend care of her,
And in conclusion, she shal watch all night,
And if she chance to nod, Ile raile and brawle,
And with the clamor keepe her stil awake:
This is a way to kil a Wife with kindnesse,
And thus Ile curbe her mad and headstrong humor:
He that knowes better how to tame a shrew,
Now let him speake, 'tis charity to shew.

Exit

Enter Tranio and Hortensio.

  Tra. Is't possible friend Lisio, that mistris Bianca
Doth fancie any other but Lucentio,
I tel you sir, she beares me faire in hand

   Luc. Sir, to satisfie you in what I haue said,
Stand by, and marke the manner of his teaching.
Enter Bianca.

  Hor. Now Mistris, profit you in what you reade?
  Bian. What Master reade you first, resolue me that?
  Hor. I reade, that I professe the Art to loue

   Bian. And may you proue sir Master of your Art

   Luc. While you sweet deere proue Mistresse of my
heart

   Hor. Quicke proceeders marry, now tel me I pray,
you that durst sweare that your Mistris Bianca
Lou'd me in the World so wel as Lucentio

   Tra. Oh despightful Loue, vnconstant womankind,
I tel thee Lisio this is wonderfull

   Hor. Mistake no more, I am not Lisio,
Nor a Musitian as I seeme to bee,
But one that scorne to liue in this disguise,
For such a one as leaues a Gentleman,
And makes a God of such a Cullion;
Know sir, that I am cal'd Hortensio

   Tra. Signior Hortensio, I haue often heard
Of your entire affection to Bianca,
And since mine eyes are witnesse of her lightnesse,
I wil with you, if you be so contented,
Forsweare Bianca, and her loue for euer

   Hor. See how they kisse and court: Signior Lucentio,
Heere is my hand, and heere I firmly vow
Neuer to woo her more, but do forsweare her
As one vnworthie all the former fauours
That I haue fondly flatter'd them withall

   Tra. And heere I take the like vnfained oath,
Neuer to marrie with her, though she would intreate,
Fie on her, see how beastly she doth court him

   Hor. Would all the world but he had quite forsworn
For me, that I may surely keepe mine oath.
I wil be married to a wealthy Widdow,
Ere three dayes passe, which hath as long lou'd me,
As I haue lou'd this proud disdainful Haggard,
And so farewel signior Lucentio,
Kindnesse in women, not their beauteous lookes
Shal win my loue, and so I take my leaue,
In resolution, as I swore before

   Tra. Mistris Bianca, blesse you with such grace,
As longeth to a Louers blessed case:
Nay, I haue tane you napping gentle Loue,
And haue forsworne you with Hortensio

   Bian. Tranio you iest, but haue you both forsworne
mee?
  Tra. Mistris we haue

   Luc. Then we are rid of Lisio

   Tra. I'faith hee'l haue a lustie Widdow now,
That shalbe woo'd, and wedded in a day

   Bian. God giue him ioy

   Tra. I, and hee'l tame her

   Bianca. He sayes so Tranio

   Tra. Faith he is gone vnto the taming schoole

   Bian. The taming schoole: what is there such a place?
  Tra. I mistris, and Petruchio is the master,
That teacheth trickes eleuen and twentie long,
To tame a shrew, and charme her chattering tongue.
Enter Biondello.

  Bion. Oh Master, master I haue watcht so long,
That I am dogge-wearie, but at last I spied
An ancient Angel comming downe the hill,
Wil serue the turne

   Tra. What is he Biondello?
  Bio. Master, a Marcantant, or a pedant,
I know not what, but formall in apparrell,
In gate and countenance surely like a Father

   Luc. And what of him Tranio?
  Tra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale,
Ile make him glad to seeme Vincentio,
And giue assurance to Baptista Minola.
As if he were the right Vincentio

   Par. Take me your loue, and then let me alone.
Enter a Pedant.

  Ped. God saue you sir

   Tra. And you sir, you are welcome,
Trauaile you farre on, or are you at the farthest?
  Ped. Sir at the farthest for a weeke or two,
But then vp farther, and as farre as Rome,
And so to Tripolie, if God lend me life

   Tra. What Countreyman I pray?
  Ped. Of Mantua

   Tra. Of Mantua Sir, marrie God forbid,
And come to Padua carelesse of your life

   Ped. My life sir? how I pray? for that goes hard

   Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua
To come to Padua, know you not the cause?
Your ships are staid at Venice, and the Duke
For priuate quarrel 'twixt your Duke and him,
Hath publish'd and proclaim'd it openly:
'Tis meruaile, but that you are but newly come,
You might haue heard it else proclaim'd about

   Ped. Alas sir, it is worse for me then so,
For I haue bils for monie by exchange
From Florence, and must heere deliuer them

   Tra. Wel sir, to do you courtesie,
This wil I do, and this I wil aduise you.
First tell me, haue you euer beene at Pisa?
  Ped. I sir, in Pisa haue I often bin,
Pisa renowned for graue Citizens

   Tra. Among them know you one Vincentio?
  Ped. I know him not, but I haue heard of him:
A Merchant of incomparable wealth

   Tra. He is my father sir, and sooth to say,
In count'nance somewhat doth resemble you

   Bion. As much as an apple doth an oyster, & all one

   Tra. To saue your life in this extremitie,
This fauor wil I do you for his sake,
And thinke it not the worst of all your fortunes,
That you are like to Sir Vincentio.
His name and credite shal you vndertake,
And in my house you shal be friendly lodg'd,
Looke that you take vpon you as you should,
You vnderstand me sir: so shal you stay
Til you haue done your businesse in the Citie:
If this be court'sie sir, accept of it

   Ped. Oh sir I do, and wil repute you euer
The patron of my life and libertie

   Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter good,
This by the way I let you vnderstand,
My father is heere look'd for euerie day,
To passe assurance of a dowre in marriage
'Twixt me, and one Baptistas daughter heere:
In all these circumstances Ile instruct you,
Go with me to cloath you as becomes you.

Exeunt.


Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Katherina and Grumio.

  Gru. No, no forsooth I dare not for my life

   Ka. The more my wrong, the more his spite appears.
What, did he marrie me to famish me?
Beggers that come vnto my fathers doore,
Vpon intreatie haue a present almes,
If not, elsewhere they meete with charitie:
But I, who neuer knew how to intreat,
Nor neuer needed that I should intreate,
Am staru'd for meate, giddie for lacke of sleepe:
With oathes kept waking, and with brawling fed,
And that which spights me more then all these wants,
He does it vnder name of perfect loue:
As who should say, if I should sleepe or eate
'Twere deadly sicknesse, or else present death.
I prethee go, and get me some repast,
I care not what, so it be holsome foode

   Gru. What say you to a Neats foote?
  Kate. 'Tis passing good, I prethee let me haue it

   Gru. I feare it is too chollericke a meate.
How say you to a fat Tripe finely broyl'd?
  Kate. I like it well, good Grumio fetch it me

   Gru. I cannot tell, I feare 'tis chollericke.
What say you to a peece of Beefe and Mustard?
  Kate. A dish that I do loue to feede vpon

   Gru. I, but the Mustard is too hot a little

   Kate. Why then the Beefe, and let the Mustard rest

   Gru. Nay then I wil not, you shal haue the Mustard
Or else you get no beefe of Grumio

   Kate. Then both or one, or any thing thou wilt

   Gru. Why then the Mustard without the beefe

   Kate. Go get thee gone, thou false deluding slaue,

Beats him.

That feed'st me with the verie name of meate.
Sorrow on thee, and all the packe of you
That triumph thus vpon my misery:
Go get thee gone, I say.
Enter Petruchio, and Hortensio with meate

   Petr. How fares my Kate, what sweeting all amort?
  Hor. Mistris, what cheere?
  Kate. Faith as cold as can be

   Pet. Plucke vp thy spirits, looke cheerfully vpon me.
Heere Loue, thou seest how diligent I am,
To dresse thy meate my selfe, and bring it thee.
I am sure sweet Kate, this kindnesse merites thankes.
What, not a word? Nay then, thou lou'st it not:
And all my paines is sorted to no proofe.
Heere take away this dish

   Kate. I pray you let it stand

   Pet. The poorest seruice is repaide with thankes,
And so shall mine before you touch the meate

   Kate. I thanke you sir

   Hor. Signior Petruchio, fie you are too blame:
Come Mistris Kate, Ile beare you companie

   Petr. Eate it vp all Hortensio, if thou louest mee:
Much good do it vnto thy gentle heart:
Kate eate apace; and now my honie Loue,
Will we returne vnto thy Fathers house,
And reuell it as brauely as the best,
With silken coats and caps, and golden Rings,
With Ruffes and Cuffes, and Fardingales, and things:
With Scarfes, and Fannes, & double change of brau'ry,
With Amber Bracelets, Beades, and all this knau'ry.
What hast thou din'd? The Tailor staies thy leasure,
To decke thy bodie with his ruffling treasure.
Enter Tailor.

Come Tailor, let vs see these ornaments.
Enter Haberdasher.

Lay forth the gowne. What newes with you sir?
  Fel. Heere is the cap your Worship did bespeake

   Pet. Why this was moulded on a porrenger,
A Veluet dish: Fie, fie, 'tis lewd and filthy,
Why 'tis a cockle or a walnut-shell,
A knacke, a toy, a tricke, a babies cap:
Away with it, come let me haue a bigger

   Kate. Ile haue no bigger, this doth fit the time,
And Gentlewomen weare such caps as these

   Pet. When you are gentle, you shall haue one too,
And not till then

   Hor. That will not be in hast

   Kate. Why sir I trust I may haue leaue to speake,
And speake I will. I am no childe, no babe,
Your betters haue indur'd me say my minde,
And if you cannot, best you stop your eares.
My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,
Or els my heart concealing it wil breake,
And rather then it shall, I will be free,
Euen to the vttermost as I please in words

   Pet. Why thou saist true, it is paltrie cap,
A custard coffen, a bauble, a silken pie,
I loue thee well in that thou lik'st it not

   Kate. Loue me, or loue me not, I like the cap,
And it I will haue, or I will haue none

   Pet. Thy gowne, why I: come Tailor let vs see't.
Oh mercie God, what masking stuffe is heere?
Whats this? a sleeue? 'tis like demi cannon,
What, vp and downe caru'd like an apple Tart?
Heers snip, and nip, and cut, and slish and slash,
Like to a Censor in a barbers shoppe:
Why what a deuils name Tailor cal'st thou this?
  Hor. I see shees like to haue neither cap nor gowne

   Tai. You bid me make it orderlie and well,
According to the fashion, and the time

   Pet. Marrie and did: but if you be remembred,
I did not bid you marre it to the time.
Go hop me ouer euery kennell home,
For you shall hop without my custome sir:
Ile none of it; hence, make your best of it

   Kate. I neuer saw a better fashion'd gowne,
More queint, more pleasing, nor more commendable:
Belike you meane to make a puppet of me

   Pet. Why true, he meanes to make a puppet of thee

   Tail. She saies your Worship meanes to make a
puppet of her

   Pet. Oh monstrous arrogance:
Thou lyest, thou thred, thou thimble,
Thou yard three quarters, halfe yard, quarter, naile,
Thou Flea, thou Nit, thou winter cricket thou:
Brau'd in mine owne house with a skeine of thred:
Away thou Ragge, thou quantitie, thou remnant,
Or I shall so be-mete thee with thy yard,
As thou shalt thinke on prating whil'st thou liu'st:
I tell thee I, that thou hast marr'd her gowne

   Tail. Your worship is deceiu'd, the gowne is made
Iust as my master had direction:
Grumio gaue order how it should be done

   Gru. I gaue him no order, I gaue him the stuffe

   Tail. But how did you desire it should be made?
  Gru. Marrie sir with needle and thred

   Tail. But did you not request to haue it cut?
  Gru. Thou hast fac'd many things

   Tail. I haue

   Gru. Face not mee: thou hast brau'd manie men,
braue not me; I will neither bee fac'd nor brau'd. I say
vnto thee, I bid thy Master cut out the gowne, but I did
not bid him cut it to peeces. Ergo thou liest

   Tail. Why heere is the note of the fashion to testify

   Pet. Reade it

   Gru. The note lies in's throate if he say I said so

   Tail. Inprimis, a loose bodied gowne

   Gru. Master, if euer I said loose-bodied gowne, sow
me in the skirts of it, and beate me to death with a bottome
of browne thred: I said a gowne

   Pet. Proceede

   Tai. With a small compast cape

   Gru. I confesse the cape

   Tai. With a trunke sleeue

   Gru. I confesse two sleeues

   Tai. The sleeues curiously cut

   Pet. I there's the villanie

   Gru. Error i'th bill sir, error i'th bill? I commanded
the sleeues should be cut out, and sow'd vp againe, and
that Ile proue vpon thee, though thy little finger be armed
in a thimble

   Tail. This is true that I say, and I had thee in place
where thou shouldst know it

   Gru. I am for thee straight: take thou the bill, giue
me thy meat-yard, and spare not me

   Hor. God-a-mercie Grumio, then hee shall haue no
oddes

   Pet. Well sir in breefe the gowne is not for me

   Gru. You are i'th right sir, 'tis for my mistris

   Pet. Go take it vp vnto thy masters vse

   Gru. Villaine, not for thy life: Take vp my Mistresse
gowne for thy masters vse

   Pet. Why sir, what's your conceit in that?
  Gru. Oh sir, the conceit is deeper then you think for:
Take vp my Mistris gowne to his masters vse.
Oh fie, fie, fie

   Pet. Hortensio, say thou wilt see the Tailor paide:
Go take it hence, be gone, and say no more

   Hor. Tailor, Ile pay thee for thy gowne to morrow,
Take no vnkindnesse of his hastie words:
Away I say, commend me to thy master.

Exit Tail.

  Pet. Well, come my Kate, we will vnto your fathers,
Euen in these honest meane habiliments:
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poore:
For 'tis the minde that makes the bodie rich.
And as the Sunne breakes through the darkest clouds,
So honor peereth in the meanest habit.
What is the Iay more precious then the Larke?
Because his feathers are more beautifull.
Or is the Adder better then the Eele,
Because his painted skin contents the eye.
Oh no good Kate: neither art thou the worse
For this poore furniture, and meane array.
If thou accountedst it shame, lay it on me,
And therefore frolicke, we will hence forthwith,
To feast and sport vs at thy fathers house,
Go call my men, and let vs straight to him,
And bring our horses vnto Long-lane end,
There wil we mount, and thither walke on foote,
Let's see, I thinke 'tis now some seuen a clocke,
And well we may come there by dinner time

   Kate. I dare assure you sir, 'tis almost two,
And 'twill be supper time ere you come there

   Pet. It shall be seuen ere I go to horse:
Looke what I speake, or do, or thinke to doe,
You are still crossing it, sirs let't alone,
I will not goe to day, and ere I doe,
It shall be what a clock I say it is

   Hor. Why so this gallant will command the sunne.
Enter Tranio, and the Pedant drest like Vincentio.

  Tra. Sirs, this is the house, please it you that I call

   Ped. I what else, and but I be deceiued,
Signior Baptista may remember me
Neere twentie yeares a goe in Genoa

   Tra. Where we were lodgers, at the Pegasus,
Tis well, and hold your owne in any case
With such austeritie as longeth to a father.
Enter Biondello.

  Ped. I warrant you: but sir here comes your boy,
'Twere good he were school'd

   Tra. Feare you not him: sirra Biondello,
Now doe your dutie throughlie I aduise you:
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio

   Bion. Tut, feare not me

   Tra. But hast thou done thy errand to Baptista

   Bion. I told him that your father was at Venice,
And that you look't for him this day in Padua,
  Tra. Th'art a tall fellow, hold thee that to drinke,
Here comes Baptista: set your countenance sir.
Enter Baptista and Lucentio: Pedant booted and bare headed.

  Tra. Signior Baptista you are happilie met:
Sir, this is the gentleman I told you of,
I pray you stand good father to me now,
Giue me Bianca for my patrimony

   Ped. Soft son: sir by your leaue, hauing com to Padua
To gather in some debts, my son Lucentio
Made me acquainted with a waighty cause
Of loue betweene your daughter and himselfe:
And for the good report I heare of you,
And for the loue he beareth to your daughter,
And she to him: to stay him not too long,
I am content in a good fathers care
To haue him matcht, and if you please to like
No worse then I, vpon some agreement
Me shall you finde readie and willing
With one consent to haue her so bestowed:
For curious I cannot be with you
Signior Baptista, of whom I heare so well

   Bap. Sir, pardon me in what I haue to say,
Your plainnesse and your shortnesse please me well:
Right true it is your sonne Lucentio here
Doth loue my daughter, and she loueth him,
Or both dissemble deepely their affections:
And therefore if you say no more then this,
That like a Father you will deale with him,
And passe my daughter a sufficient dower,
The match is made, and all is done,
Your sonne shall haue my daughter with consent

   Tra. I thanke you sir, where then doe you know best
We be affied and such assurance tane,
As shall with either parts agreement stand

   Bap. Not in my house Lucentio, for you know
Pitchers haue eares, and I haue manie seruants,
Besides old Gremio is harkning still,
And happilie we might be interrupted

   Tra. Then at my lodging, and it like you,
There doth my father lie: and there this night
Weele passe the businesse priuately and well:
Send for your daughter by your seruant here,
My Boy shall fetch the Scriuener presentlie,
The worst is this that at so slender warning,
You are like to haue a thin and slender pittance

   Bap. It likes me well:
Cambio hie you home, and bid Bianca make her readie
straight:
And if you will tell what hath hapned,
Lucentios Father is arriued in Padua,
And how she's like to be Lucentios wife

   Biond. I praie the gods she may withall my heart.
Enter.

  Tran. Dallie not with the gods, but get thee gone.
Enter Peter.

Signior Baptista, shall I leade the way,
Welcome, one messe is like to be your cheere,
Come sir, we will better it in Pisa

   Bap. I follow you.

Exeunt.

Enter Lucentio and Biondello.

  Bion. Cambio

   Luc. What saist thou Biondello

   Biond. You saw my Master winke and laugh vpon
you?
  Luc. Biondello, what of that?
  Biond. Faith nothing: but has left mee here behinde
to expound the meaning or morrall of his signes and tokens

   Luc. I pray thee moralize them

   Biond. Then thus: Baptista is safe talking with the
deceiuing Father of a deceitfull sonne

   Luc. And what of him?
  Biond. His daughter is to be brought by you to the
supper

   Luc. And then

   Bio. The old Priest at Saint Lukes Church is at your
command at all houres

   Luc. And what of all this

   Bion. I cannot tell, expect they are busied about a
counterfeit assurance: take you assurance of her, Cum
preuilegio ad Impremendum solem, to th' Church take the
Priest, Clarke, and some sufficient honest witnesses:
If this be not that you looke for, I haue no more to say,
But bid Bianca farewell for euer and a day

   Luc. Hear'st thou Biondello

   Biond. I cannot tarry: I knew a wench maried in an
afternoone as shee went to the Garden for Parseley to
stuffe a Rabit, and so may you sir: and so adew sir, my
Master hath appointed me to goe to Saint Lukes to bid
the Priest be readie to come against you come with your
appendix.
Enter.

  Luc. I may and will, if she be so contented:
She will be pleas'd, then wherefore should I doubt:
Hap what hap may, Ile roundly goe about her:
It shall goe hard if Cambio goe without her.
Enter.

Enter Petruchio, Kate, Hortentio

  Petr. Come on a Gods name, once more toward our
fathers:
Good Lord how bright and goodly shines the Moone

   Kate. The Moone, the Sunne: it is not Moonelight
now

   Pet. I say it is the Moone that shines so bright

   Kate. I know it is the Sunne that shines so bright

   Pet. Now by my mothers sonne, and that's my selfe,
It shall be moone, or starre, or what I list,
Or ere I iourney to your Fathers house:
Goe on, and fetch our horses backe againe,
Euermore crost and crost, nothing but crost

   Hort. Say as he saies, or we shall neuer goe

   Kate. Forward I pray, since we haue come so farre,
And be it moone, or sunne, or what you please:
And if you please to call it a rush Candle,
Henceforth I vowe it shall be so for me

   Petr. I say it is the Moone

   Kate. I know it is the Moone

   Petr. Nay then you lye: it is the blessed Sunne

   Kate. Then God be blest, it is the blessed sun,
But sunne it is not, when you say it is not,
And the Moone changes euen as your minde:
What you will haue it nam'd, euen that it is,
And so it shall be so for Katherine

   Hort. Petruchio, goe thy waies, the field is won

   Petr. Well, forward, forward, thus the bowle should run,
And not vnluckily against the Bias:
But soft, Company is comming here.
Enter Vincentio.

Good morrow gentle Mistris, where away:
Tell me sweete Kate, and tell me truely too,
Hast thou beheld a fresher Gentlewoman:
Such warre of white and red within her cheekes:
What stars do spangle heauen with such beautie,
As those two eyes become that heauenly face?
Faire louely Maide, once more good day to thee:
Sweete Kate embrace her for her beauties sake

   Hort. A will make the man mad to make the woman
of him

   Kate. Yong budding Virgin, faire, and fresh, & sweet,
Whether away, or whether is thy aboade?
Happy the Parents of so faire a childe;
Happier the man whom fauourable stars
A lots thee for his louely bedfellow

   Petr. Why how now Kate, I hope thou art not mad,
This is a man old, wrinckled, faded, withered,
And not a Maiden, as thou saist he is

   Kate. Pardon old father my mistaking eies,
That haue bin so bedazled with the sunne,
That euery thing I looke on seemeth greene:
Now I perceiue thou art a reuerent Father:
Pardon I pray thee for my mad mistaking

   Petr. Do good old grandsire, & withall make known
Which way thou trauellest, if along with vs,
We shall be ioyfull of thy companie

   Vin. Faire Sir, and you my merry Mistris,
That with your strange encounter much amasde me:
My name is call'd Vincentio, my dwelling Pisa,
And bound I am to Padua, there to visite
A sonne of mine, which long I haue not seene

   Petr. What is his name?
  Vinc. Lucentio gentle sir

   Petr. Happily met, the happier for thy sonne:
And now by Law, as well as reuerent age,
I may intitle thee my louing Father,
The sister to my wife, this Gentlewoman,
Thy Sonne by this hath married: wonder not,
Nor be not grieued, she is of good esteeme,
Her dowrie wealthie, and of worthie birth;
Beside, so qualified, as may beseeme
The Spouse of any noble Gentleman:
Let me imbrace with old Vincentio,
And wander we to see thy honest sonne,
Who will of thy arriuall be full ioyous

   Vinc. But is this true, or is it else your pleasure,
Like pleasant trauailors to breake a Iest
Vpon the companie you ouertake?
  Hort. I doe assure thee father so it is

   Petr. Come goe along and see the truth hereof,
For our first merriment hath made thee iealous.

Exeunt.

  Hor. Well Petruchio, this has put me in heart;
Haue to my Widdow, and if she froward,
Then hast thou taught Hortentio to be vntoward.
Enter.

Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianca, Gremio is out before.

  Biond. Softly and swiftly sir, for the Priest is ready

   Luc. I flie Biondello; but they may chance to neede
thee at home, therefore leaue vs.
Enter.

  Biond. Nay faith, Ile see the Church a your backe,
and then come backe to my mistris as soone as I can

   Gre. I maruaile Cambio comes not all this while.
Enter Petruchio, Kate, Vincentio, Grumio with Attendants.

  Petr. Sir heres the doore, this is Lucentios house,
My Fathers beares more toward the Market-place,
Thither must I, and here I leaue you sir

   Vin. You shall not choose but drinke before you go,
I thinke I shall command your welcome here;
And by all likelihood some cheere is toward.

Knock.

  Grem. They're busie within, you were best knocke
lowder.

Pedant lookes out of the window.

  Ped. What's he that knockes as he would beat downe
the gate?
  Vin. Is Signior Lucentio within sir?
  Ped. He's within sir, but not to be spoken withall

   Vinc. What if a man bring him a hundred pound or
two to make merrie withall

   Ped. Keepe your hundred pounds to your selfe, hee
shall neede none so long as I liue

   Petr. Nay, I told you your sonne was well beloued in
Padua: doe you heare sir, to leaue friuolous circumstances,
I pray you tell signior Lucentio that his Father is
come from Pisa, and is here at the doore to speake with
him

   Ped. Thou liest his Father is come from Padua, and
here looking out at the window

   Vin. Art thou his father?
  Ped. I sir, so his mother saies, if I may beleeue her

   Petr. Why how now gentleman: why this is flat knauerie
to take vpon you another mans name

   Peda. Lay hands on the villaine, I beleeue a meanes
to cosen some bodie in this Citie vnder my countenance.
Enter Biondello.

  Bio. I haue seene them in the Church together, God
send 'em good shipping: but who is here? mine old Master
Vincentio: now wee are vndone and brought to nothing

   Vin. Come hither crackhempe

   Bion. I hope I may choose Sir

   Vin. Come hither you rogue, what haue you forgot
mee?
  Biond. Forgot you, no sir: I could not forget you, for
I neuer saw you before in all my life

   Vinc. What, you notorious villaine, didst thou neuer
see thy Mistris father, Vincentio?
  Bion. What my old worshipfull old master? yes
marie sir see where he lookes out of the window

   Vin. Ist so indeede.

He beates Biondello.

  Bion. Helpe, helpe, helpe, here's a mad man will murder
me

   Pedan. Helpe, sonne, helpe signior Baptista

   Petr. Preethe Kate let's stand aside and see the end of
this controuersie.
Enter Pedant with seruants, Baptista, Tranio.

  Tra. Sir, what are you that offer to beate my seruant?
  Vinc. What am I sir: nay what are you sir: oh immortall
Goddes: oh fine villaine, a silken doublet, a veluet
hose, a scarlet cloake, and a copataine hat: oh I am
vndone, I am vndone: while I plaie the good husband
at home, my sonne and my seruant spend all at the vniuersitie

   Tra. How now, what's the matter?
  Bapt. What is the man lunaticke?
  Tra. Sir, you seeme a sober ancient Gentleman by
your habit: but your words shew you a mad man: why
sir, what cernes it you, if I weare Pearle and gold: I thank
my good Father, I am able to maintaine it

   Vin. Thy father: oh villaine, he is a Saile-maker in
Bergamo

   Bap. You mistake sir, you mistake sir, praie what do
you thinke is his name?
  Vin. His name, as if I knew not his name: I haue
brought him vp euer since he was three yeeres old, and
his name is Tronio

   Ped. Awaie, awaie mad asse, his name is Lucentio, and
he is mine onelie sonne and heire to the Lands of me signior
Vincentio

   Ven. Lucentio: oh he hath murdred his Master; laie
hold on him I charge you in the Dukes name: oh my
sonne, my sonne: tell me thou villaine, where is my son
Lucentio?
  Tra. Call forth an officer: Carrie this mad knaue to
the Iaile: father Baptista, I charge you see that hee be
forth comming

   Vinc. Carrie me to the Iaile?
  Gre. Staie officer, he shall not go to prison

   Bap. Talke not signior Gremio: I saie he shall goe to
prison

   Gre. Take heede signior Baptista, least you be conicatcht
in this businesse: I dare sweare this is the right
Vincentio

   Ped. Sweare if thou dar'st

   Gre. Naie, I dare not sweare it

   Tran. Then thou wert best saie that I am not Lucentio

   Gre. Yes, I know thee to be signior Lucentio

   Bap. Awaie with the dotard, to the Iaile with him.
Enter Biondello, Lucentio and Bianeu.

  Vin. Thus strangers may be haild and abusd: oh monstrous
villaine

   Bion. Oh we are spoil'd, and yonder he is, denie him,
forsweare him, or else we are all vndone.

Exit Biondello, Tranio and Pedant as fast as may be.

  Luc. Pardon sweete father.

Kneele.

  Vin. Liues my sweete sonne?
  Bian. Pardon deere father

   Bap. How hast thou offended, where is Lucentio?
  Luc. Here's Lucentio, right sonne to the right Vincentio,
That haue by marriage made thy daughter mine,
While counterfeit supposes bleer'd thine eine

   Gre. Here's packing with a witnesse to deceiue vs all

   Vin. Where is that damned villaine Tranio,
That fac'd and braued me in this matter so?
  Bap. Why, tell me is not this my Cambio?
  Bian. Cambio is chang'd into Lucentio

   Luc. Loue wrought these miracles. Biancas loue
Made me exchange my state with Tranio,
While he did beare my countenance in the towne,
And happilie I haue arriued at the last
Vnto the wished hauen of my blisse:
What Tranio did, my selfe enforst him to;
Then pardon him sweete Father for my sake

   Vin. Ile slit the villaines nose that would haue sent
me to the Iaile

   Bap. But doe you heare sir, haue you married my
daughter without asking my good will?
  Vin. Feare not Baptista, we will content you, goe to:
but I will in to be reueng'd for this villanie.
Enter.

  Bap. And I to sound the depth of this knauerie.
Enter.

  Luc. Looke not pale Bianca, thy father will not frown.

Exeunt.

  Gre. My cake is dough, but Ile in among the rest,
Out of hope of all, but my share of the feast

   Kate. Husband let's follow, to see the end of this adoe

   Petr. First kisse me Kate, and we will

   Kate. What in the midst of the streete?
  Petr. What art thou asham'd of me?
  Kate. No sir, God forbid, but asham'd to kisse

   Petr. Why then let's home againe: Come Sirra let's
awaie

   Kate. Nay, I will giue thee a kisse, now praie thee
Loue staie

   Petr. Is not this well? come my sweete Kate.
Better once then neuer, for neuer to late.

Exeunt.


Actus Quintus.

Enter Baptista, Vincentio, Gremio, the Pedant, Lucentio, and
Bianca.
Tranio, Biondello Grumio, and Widdow: The Seruingmen with
Tranio bringing
in a Banquet.

  Luc. At last, though long, our iarring notes agree,
And time it is when raging warre is come,
To smile at scapes and perils ouerblowne:
My faire Bianca bid my father welcome,
While I with selfesame kindnesse welcome thine:
Brother Petruchio, sister Katerina,
And thou Hortentio with thy louing Widdow:
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house,
My Banket is to close our stomakes vp
After our great good cheere: praie you sit downe,
For now we sit to chat as well as eate

   Petr. Nothing but sit and sit, and eate and eate

   Bap. Padua affords this kindnesse, sonne Petruchio

   Petr. Padua affords nothing but what is kinde

   Hor. For both our sakes I would that word were true

   Pet. Now for my life Hortentio feares his Widow

   Wid. Then neuer trust me if I be affeard

   Petr. You are verie sencible, and yet you misse my
sence:
I meane Hortentio is afeard of you

   Wid. He that is giddie thinks the world turns round

   Petr. Roundlie replied

   Kat. Mistris, how meane you that?
  Wid. Thus I conceiue by him

   Petr. Conceiues by me, how likes Hortentio that?
  Hor. My Widdow saies, thus she conceiues her tale

   Petr. Verie well mended: kisse him for that good
Widdow

   Kat. He that is giddie thinkes the world turnes round,
I praie you tell me what you meant by that

   Wid. Your housband being troubled with a shrew,
Measures my husbands sorrow by his woe:
And now you know my meaning

   Kate. A verie meane meaning

   Wid. Right, I meane you

   Kat. And I am meane indeede, respecting you

   Petr. To her Kate

   Hor. To her Widdow

   Petr. A hundred marks, my Kate does put her down

   Hor. That's my office
  Petr. Spoke like an Officer: ha to the lad.

Drinkes to Hortentio.

  Bap. How likes Gremio these quicke witted folkes?
  Gre. Beleeue me sir, they But together well

   Bian. Head, and but an hastie witted bodie,
Would say your Head and But were head and horne

   Vin. I Mistris Bride, hath that awakened you?
  Bian. I, but not frighted me, therefore Ile sleepe againe

   Petr. Nay that you shall not since you haue begun:
Haue at you for a better iest or too

   Bian. Am I your Bird, I meane to shift my bush,
And then pursue me as you draw your Bow.
You are welcome all.

Exit Bianca.

  Petr. She hath preuented me, here signior Tranio,
This bird you aim'd at, though you hit her not,
Therefore a health to all that shot and mist

   Tri. Oh sir, Lucentio slipt me like his Gray-hound,
Which runs himselfe, and catches for his Master

   Petr. A good swift simile, but something currish

   Tra. 'Tis well sir that you hunted for your selfe:
'Tis thought your Deere does hold you at a baie

   Bap. Oh, oh Petruchio, Tranio hits you now

   Luc. I thanke thee for that gird good Tranio

   Hor. Confesse, confesse, hath he not hit you here?
  Petr. A has a little gald me I confesse:
And as the Iest did glaunce awaie from me,
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you too out right

   Bap. Now in good sadnesse sonne Petruchio,
I thinke thou hast the veriest shrew of all

   Petr. Well, I say no: and therefore sir assurance,
Let's each one send vnto his wife,
And he whose wife is most obedient,
To come at first when he doth send for her,
Shall win the wager which we will propose

   Hort. Content, what's the wager?
  Luc. Twentie crownes

   Petr. Twentie crownes,
Ile venture so much of my Hawke or Hound,
But twentie times so much vpon my Wife

   Luc. A hundred then

   Hor. Content

   Petr. A match, 'tis done

   Hor. Who shall begin?
  Luc. That will I.
Goe Biondello, bid your Mistris come to me

   Bio. I goe.
Enter.

  Bap. Sonne, Ile be your halfe, Bianca comes

   Luc. Ile haue no halues: Ile beare it all my selfe.
Enter Biondello.

How now, what newes?
  Bio. Sir, my Mistris sends you word
That she is busie, and she cannot come

   Petr. How? she's busie, and she cannot come: is that
an answere?
  Gre. I, and a kinde one too:
Praie God sir your wife send you not a worse

   Petr. I hope better

   Hor. Sirra Biondello, goe and intreate my wife to
come to me forthwith.

Exit. Bion.

  Pet. Oh ho, intreate her, nay then shee must needes
come

   Hor. I am affraid sir, doe what you can
Enter Biondello.

Yours will not be entreated: Now, where's my wife?
  Bion. She saies you haue some goodly Iest in hand,
She will not come: she bids you come to her

   Petr. Worse and worse, she will not come:
Oh vilde, intollerable, not to be indur'd:
Sirra Grumio, goe to your Mistris,
Say I command her come to me.
Enter.

  Hor. I know her answere

   Pet. What?
  Hor. She will not

   Petr. The fouler fortune mine, and there an end.
Enter Katerina.

  Bap. Now by my hollidam here comes Katerina

   Kat. What is your will sir, that you send for me?
  Petr. Where is your sister, and Hortensios wife?
  Kate. They sit conferring by the Parler fire

   Petr. Goe fetch them hither, if they denie to come,
Swinge me them soundly forth vnto their husbands:
Away I say, and bring them hither straight

   Luc. Here is a wonder, if you talke of a wonder

   Hor. And so it is: I wonder what it boads

   Petr. Marrie peace it boads, and loue, and quiet life,
An awfull rule, and right supremicie:
And to be short, what not, that's sweete and happie

   Bap. Now faire befall thee good Petruchio;
The wager thou hast won, and I will adde
Vnto their losses twentie thousand crownes,
Another dowrie to another daughter,
For she is chang'd as she had neuer bin

   Petr. Nay, I will win my wager better yet,
And show more signe of her obedience,
Her new built vertue and obedience.
Enter Kate, Bianca, and Widdow.

See where she comes, and brings your froward Wiues
As prisoners to her womanlie perswasion:
Katerine, that Cap of yours becomes you not,
Off with that bable, throw it vnderfoote

   Wid. Lord let me neuer haue a cause to sigh,
Till I be brought to such a sillie passe

   Bian. Fie what a foolish dutie call you this?
  Luc. I would your dutie were as foolish too:
The wisdome of your dutie faire Bianca,
Hath cost me fiue hundred crownes since supper time

   Bian. The more foole you for laying on my dutie

   Pet. Katherine I charge thee tell these head-strong
women, what dutie they doe owe their Lords and husbands

   Wid. Come, come, your mocking: we will haue no
telling

   Pet. Come on I say, and first begin with her

   Wid. She shall not

   Pet. I say she shall, and first begin with her

   Kate. Fie, fie, vnknit that threatning vnkinde brow,
And dart not scornefull glances from those eies,
To wound thy Lord, thy King, thy Gouernour.
It blots thy beautie, as frosts doe bite the Meads,
Confounds thy fame, as whirlewinds shake faire budds,
And in no sence is meete or amiable.
A woman mou'd, is like a fountaine troubled,
Muddie, ill seeming, thicke, bereft of beautie,
And while it is so, none so dry or thirstie
Will daigne to sip, or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy Lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy soueraigne: One that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance. Commits his body
To painfull labour, both by sea and land:
To watch the night in stormes, the day in cold,
Whil'st thou ly'st warme at home, secure and safe,
And craues no other tribute at thy hands,
But loue, faire lookes, and true obedience;
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such dutie as the subiect owes the Prince,
Euen such a woman oweth to her husband:
And when she is froward, peeuish, sullen, sowre,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foule contending Rebell,
And gracelesse Traitor to her louing Lord?
I am asham'd that women are so simple,
To offer warre, where they should kneele for peace:
Or seeke for rule, supremacie, and sway,
When they are bound to serue, loue, and obay.
Why are our bodies soft, and weake, and smooth,
Vnapt to toyle and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions, and our harts,
Should well agree with our externall parts?
Come, come, you froward and vnable wormes,
My minde hath bin as bigge as one of yours,
My heart as great, my reason haplie more,
To bandie word for word, and frowne for frowne;
But now I see our Launces are but strawes:
Our strength as weake, our weakenesse past compare,
That seeming to be most, which we indeed least are.
Then vale your stomackes, for it is no boote,
And place your hands below your husbands foote:
In token of which dutie, if he please,
My hand is readie, may it do him ease

   Pet. Why there's a wench: Come on, and kisse mee
Kate

   Luc. Well go thy waies olde Lad for thou shalt ha't

   Vin. Tis a good hearing, when children are toward

   Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women are froward,
  Pet. Come Kate, wee'le to bed,
We three are married, but you two are sped.
'Twas I wonne the wager, though you hit the white,
And being a winner, God giue you good night.

Exit Petruchio

  Horten. Now goe thy wayes, thou hast tam'd a curst
Shrow

   Luc. Tis a wonder, by your leaue, she wil be tam'd so.

FINIS. THE Taming of the Shrew.


All's Well, that Ends Well

Actus primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter yong Bertram Count of Rossillion, his Mother, and Helena,
Lord
Lafew, all in blacke.

  Mother. In deliuering my sonne from me, I burie a second
husband

   Ros. And I in going Madam, weep ore my
fathers death anew; but I must attend his maiesties
command, to whom I am now in Ward, euermore
in subiection

   Laf. You shall find of the King a husband Madame,
you sir a father. He that so generally is at all times good,
must of necessitie hold his vertue to you, whose worthinesse
would stirre it vp where it wanted rather then lack
it where there is such abundance

   Mo. What hope is there of his Maiesties amendment?
  Laf. He hath abandon'd his Phisitions Madam, vnder
whose practises he hath persecuted time with hope,
and finds no other aduantage in the processe, but onely
the loosing of hope by time

   Mo. This yong Gentlewoman had a father, O that
had, how sad a passage tis, whose skill was almost as
great as his honestie, had it stretch'd so far, would haue
made nature immortall, and death should haue play for
lacke of worke. Would for the Kings sake hee were liuing,
I thinke it would be the death of the Kings disease

   Laf. How call'd you the man you speake of Madam?
  Mo. He was famous sir in his profession, and it was
his great right to be so: Gerard de Narbon

   Laf. He was excellent indeed Madam, the King very
latelie spoke of him admiringly, and mourningly: hee
was skilfull enough to haue liu'd stil, if knowledge could
be set vp against mortallitie

   Ros. What is it (my good Lord) the King languishes
of?
  Laf. A Fistula my Lord

   Ros. I heard not of it before

   Laf. I would it were not notorious. Was this Gentlewoman
the Daughter of Gerard de Narbon?
  Mo. His sole childe my Lord, and bequeathed to my
ouer looking. I haue those hopes of her good, that her
education promises her dispositions shee inherits, which
makes faire gifts fairer: for where an vncleane mind carries
vertuous qualities, there commendations go with
pitty, they are vertues and traitors too: in her they are
the better for their simplenesse; she deriues her honestie,
and atcheeues her goodnesse

   Lafew. Your commendations Madam get from her
teares

   Mo. 'Tis the best brine a Maiden can season her praise
in. The remembrance of her father neuer approches her
heart, but the tirrany of her sorrowes takes all liuelihood
from her cheeke. No more of this Helena, go too, no
more least it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, then
to haue-
  Hell. I doe affect a sorrow indeed, but I haue it too

   Laf. Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead,
excessiue greefe the enemie to the liuing

   Mo. If the liuing be enemie to the greefe, the excesse
makes it soone mortall

   Ros. Maddam I desire your holie wishes

   Laf. How vnderstand we that?
  Mo. Be thou blest Bertrame, and succeed thy father
In manners as in shape: thy blood and vertue
Contend for Empire in thee, and thy goodnesse
Share with thy birth-right. Loue all, trust a few,
Doe wrong to none: be able for thine enemie
Rather in power then vse: and keepe thy friend
Vnder thy owne lifes key. Be checkt for silence,
But neuer tax'd for speech. What heauen more wil,
That thee may furnish, and my prayers plucke downe,
Fall on thy head. Farwell my Lord,
'Tis an vnseason'd Courtier, good my Lord
Aduise him

   Laf. He cannot want the best
That shall attend his loue

   Mo. Heauen blesse him: Farwell Bertram

   Ro. The best wishes that can be forg'd in your thoghts
be seruants to you: be comfortable to my mother, your
Mistris, and make much of her

   Laf. Farewell prettie Lady, you must hold the credit
of your father

   Hell. O were that all, I thinke not on my father,
And these great teares grace his remembrance more
Then those I shed for him. What was he like?
I haue forgott him. My imagination
Carries no fauour in't but Bertrams.
I am vndone, there is no liuing, none,
If Bertram be away. 'Twere all one,
That I should loue a bright particuler starre,
And think to wed it, he is so aboue me
In his bright radience and colaterall light,
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;
Th' ambition in my loue thus plagues it selfe:
The hind that would be mated by the Lion
Must die for loue. 'Twas prettie, though a plague
To see him euerie houre to sit and draw
His arched browes, his hawking eie, his curles
In our hearts table: heart too capeable
Of euerie line and tricke of his sweet fauour.
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancie
Must sanctifie his Reliques. Who comes heere?
Enter Parrolles.

One that goes with him: I loue him for his sake,
And yet I know him a notorious Liar,
Thinke him a great way foole, solie a coward,
Yet these fixt euils sit so fit in him,
That they take place, when Vertues steely bones
Lookes bleake i'th cold wind: withall, full ofte we see
Cold wisedome waighting on superfluous follie

   Par. Saue you faire Queene

   Hel. And you Monarch

   Par. No

   Hel. And no

   Par. Are you meditating on virginitie?
  Hel. I: you haue some staine of souldier in you: Let
mee aske you a question. Man is enemie to virginitie,
how may we barracado it against him?
  Par. Keepe him out

   Hel. But he assailes, and our virginitie though valiant,
in the defence yet is weak: vnfold to vs some war-like
resistance

   Par. There is none: Man setting downe before you,
will vndermine you, and blow you vp

   Hel. Blesse our poore Virginity from vnderminers
and blowers vp. Is there no Military policy how Virgins
might blow vp men?
  Par. Virginity beeing blowne downe, Man will
quicklier be blowne vp: marry in blowing him downe
againe, with the breach your selues made, you lose your
Citty. It is not politicke, in the Common-wealth of
Nature, to preserue virginity. Losse of Virginitie, is
rationall encrease, and there was neuer Virgin goe, till
virginitie was first lost. That you were made of, is mettall
to make Virgins. Virginitie, by beeing once lost,
may be ten times found: by being euer kept, it is euer
lost: 'tis too cold a companion: Away with't

   Hel. I will stand for't a little, though therefore I die
a Virgin

   Par. There's little can bee saide in't, 'tis against the
rule of Nature. To speake on the part of virginitie, is
to accuse your Mothers; which is most infallible disobedience.
He that hangs himselfe is a Virgin: Virginitie
murthers it selfe, and should be buried in highwayes
out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate Offendresse against
Nature. Virginitie breedes mites, much like a
Cheese, consumes it selfe to the very payring, and so
dies with feeding his owne stomacke. Besides, Virginitie
is peeuish, proud, ydle, made of selfe-loue, which
is the most inhibited sinne in the Cannon. Keepe it not,
you cannot choose but loose by't. Out with't: within
ten yeare it will make it selfe two, which is a goodly increase,
and the principall it selfe not much the worse.
Away with't

   Hel. How might one do sir, to loose it to her owne
liking?
  Par. Let mee see. Marry ill, to like him that ne're
it likes. 'Tis a commodity wil lose the glosse with lying:
The longer kept, the lesse worth: Off with't while 'tis
vendible. Answer the time of request, Virginitie like
an olde Courtier, weares her cap out of fashion, richly
suted, but vnsuteable, iust like the brooch & the tooth-pick,
which were not now: your Date is better in your
Pye and your Porredge, then in your cheeke: and your
virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French
wither'd peares, it lookes ill, it eates drily, marry 'tis a
wither'd peare: it was formerly better, marry yet 'tis a
wither'd peare: Will you any thing with it?
  Hel. Not my virginity yet:
There shall your Master haue a thousand loues,
A Mother, and a Mistresse, and a friend,
A Phenix, Captaine, and an enemy,
A guide, a Goddesse, and a Soueraigne,
A Counsellor, a Traitoresse, and a Deare:
His humble ambition, proud humility:
His iarring, concord: and his discord, dulcet:
His faith, his sweet disaster: with a world
Of pretty fond adoptious christendomes
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he:
I know not what he shall, God send him well,
The Courts a learning place, and he is one

   Par. What one ifaith?
  Hel. That I wish well, 'tis pitty

   Par. What's pitty?
  Hel. That wishing well had not a body in't,
Which might be felt, that we the poorer borne,
Whose baser starres do shut vs vp in wishes,
Might with effects of them follow our friends,
And shew what we alone must thinke, which neuer
Returnes vs thankes.
Enter Page.

  Pag. Monsieur Parrolles,
My Lord cals for you

   Par. Little Hellen farewell, if I can remember thee, I
will thinke of thee at Court

   Hel. Monsieur Parolles, you were borne vnder a
charitable starre

   Par. Vnder Mars I

   Hel. I especially thinke, vnder Mars

   Par. Why vnder Mars?
  Hel. The warres hath so kept you vnder, that you
must needes be borne vnder Mars

   Par. When he was predominant

   Hel. When he was retrograde I thinke rather

   Par. Why thinke you so?
  Hel. You go so much backward when you fight

   Par. That's for aduantage

   Hel. So is running away,
When feare proposes the safetie:
But the composition that your valour and feare makes
in you, is a vertue of a good wing, and I like the
weare well

   Paroll. I am so full of businesses, I cannot answere
thee acutely: I will returne perfect Courtier, in the
which my instruction shall serue to naturalize thee, so
thou wilt be capeable of a Courtiers councell, and vnderstand
what aduice shall thrust vppon thee, else thou
diest in thine vnthankfulnes, and thine ignorance makes
thee away, farewell: When thou hast leysure, say thy
praiers: when thou hast none, remember thy Friends:
Get thee a good husband, and vse him as he vses thee:
So farewell

   Hel. Our remedies oft in our selues do lye,
Which we ascribe to heauen: the fated skye
Giues vs free scope, onely doth backward pull
Our slow designes, when we our selues are dull.
What power is it, which mounts my loue so hye,
That makes me see, and cannot feede mine eye?
The mightiest space in fortune, Nature brings
To ioyne like, likes; and kisse like natiue things.
Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their paines in sence, and do suppose
What hath beene, cannot be. Who euer stroue
To shew her merit, that did misse her loue?
(The Kings disease) my proiect may deceiue me,
But my intents are fixt, and will not leaue me.

Exit

Flourish Cornets. Enter the King of France with Letters, and diuers
Attendants.

  King. The Florentines and Senoys are by th' eares,
Haue fought with equall fortune, and continue
A brauing warre

   1.Lo.G. So tis reported sir

   King. Nay tis most credible, we heere receiue it,
A certaintie vouch'd from our Cosin Austria,
With caution, that the Florentine will moue vs
For speedie ayde: wherein our deerest friend
Preiudicates the businesse, and would seeme
To haue vs make deniall

   1.Lo.G. His loue and wisedome
Approu'd so to your Maiesty, may pleade
For amplest credence

   King. He hath arm'd our answer,
And Florence is deni'de before he comes:
Yet for our Gentlemen that meane to see
The Tuscan seruice, freely haue they leaue
To stand on either part

   2.Lo.E. It well may serue
A nursserie to our Gentrie, who are sicke
For breathing, and exploit

   King. What's he comes heere.
Enter Bertram, Lafew, and Parolles.

  1.Lor.G. It is the Count Rosignoll my good Lord,
Yong Bertram

   King. Youth, thou bear'st thy Fathers face,
Franke Nature rather curious then in hast
Hath well compos'd thee: Thy Fathers morall parts
Maist thou inherit too: Welcome to Paris

   Ber. My thankes and dutie are your Maiesties

   Kin. I would I had that corporall soundnesse now,
As when thy father, and my selfe, in friendship
First tride our souldiership: he did looke farre
Into the seruice of the time, and was
Discipled of the brauest. He lasted long,
But on vs both did haggish Age steale on,
And wore vs out of act: It much repaires me
To talke of your good father; in his youth
He had the wit, which I can well obserue
To day in our yong Lords: but they may iest
Till their owne scorne returne to them vnnoted
Ere they can hide their leuitie in honour:
So like a Courtier, contempt nor bitternesse
Were in his pride, or sharpnesse; if they were,
His equall had awak'd them, and his honour
Clocke to it selfe, knew the true minute when
Exception bid him speake: and at this time
His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below him,
He vs'd as creatures of another place,
And bow'd his eminent top to their low rankes,
Making them proud of his humilitie,
In their poore praise he humbled: Such a man
Might be a copie to these yonger times;
Which followed well, would demonstrate them now
But goers backward

   Ber. His good remembrance sir
Lies richer in your thoughts, then on his tombe:
So in approofe liues not his Epitaph,
As in your royall speech

   King. Would I were with him he would alwaies say,
(Me thinkes I heare him now) his plausiue words
He scatter'd not in eares, but grafted them
To grow there and to beare: Let me not liue,
This his good melancholly oft began
On the Catastrophe and heele of pastime
When it was out: Let me not liue (quoth hee)
After my flame lackes oyle, to be the snuffe
Of yonger spirits, whose apprehensiue senses
All but new things disdaine; whose iudgements are
Meere fathers of their garments: whose constancies
Expire before their fashions: this he wish'd.
I after him, do after him wish too:
Since I nor wax nor honie can bring home,
I quickly were dissolued from my hiue
To giue some Labourers roome

   2.L.E. You'r loued Sir,
They that least lend it you, shall lacke you first

   Kin. I fill a place I know't: how long ist Count
Since the Physitian at your fathers died?
He was much fam'd

   Ber. Some six moneths since my Lord

   Kin. If he were liuing, I would try him yet.
Lend me an arme: the rest haue worne me out
With seuerall applications: Nature and sicknesse
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome Count,
My sonne's no deerer

   Ber. Thanke your Maiesty.

Exit

Flourish.

Enter Countesse, Steward, and Clowne.

  Coun. I will now heare, what say you of this gentlewoman

   Ste. Maddam the care I haue had to euen your content,
I wish might be found in the Kalender of my past
endeuours, for then we wound our Modestie, and make
foule the clearnesse of our deseruings, when of our selues
we publish them

   Coun. What doe's this knaue heere? Get you gone
sirra: the complaints I haue heard of you I do not all beleeue,
'tis my slownesse that I doe not: For I know you
lacke not folly to commit them, & haue abilitie enough
to make such knaueries yours

   Clo. 'Tis not vnknown to you Madam, I am a poore
fellow

   Coun. Well sir

   Clo. No maddam,
'Tis not so well that I am poore, though manie
of the rich are damn'd, but if I may haue your Ladiships
good will to goe to the world, Isbell the woman and I
will doe as we may

   Coun. Wilt thou needes be a begger?
  Clo. I doe beg your good will in this case

   Cou. In what case?
  Clo. In Isbels case and mine owne: seruice is no heritage,
and I thinke I shall neuer haue the blessing of God,
till I haue issue a my bodie: for they say barnes are blessings

   Cou. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt marrie?
  Clo. My poore bodie Madam requires it, I am driuen
on by the flesh, and hee must needes goe that the diuell
driues

   Cou. Is this all your worships reason?
  Clo. Faith Madam I haue other holie reasons, such as
they are

   Cou. May the world know them?
  Clo. I haue beene Madam a wicked creature, as you
and all flesh and blood are, and indeede I doe marrie that
I may repent

   Cou. Thy marriage sooner then thy wickednesse

   Clo. I am out a friends Madam, and I hope to haue
friends for my wiues sake

   Cou. Such friends are thine enemies knaue

   Clo. Y'are shallow Madam in great friends, for the
knaues come to doe that for me which I am a wearie of:
he that eres my Land, spares my teame, and giues mee
leaue to Inne the crop: if I be his cuckold hee's my
drudge; he that comforts my wife, is the cherisher of
my flesh and blood; hee that cherishes my flesh and
blood, loues my flesh and blood; he that loues my flesh
and blood is my friend: ergo, he that kisses my wife is my
friend: if men could be contented to be what they are,
there were no feare in marriage, for yong Charbon the
Puritan, and old Poysam the Papist, how somere their
hearts are seuer'd in Religion, their heads are both one,
they may ioule horns together like any Deare i'th Herd

   Cou. Wilt thou euer be a foule mouth'd and calumnious
knaue?
  Clo. A Prophet I Madam, and I speake the truth the
next waie, for I the Ballad will repeate, which men full
true shall finde, your marriage comes by destinie, your
Cuckow sings by kinde

   Cou. Get you gone sir, Ile talke with you more anon

   Stew. May it please you Madam, that hee bid Hellen
come to you, of her I am to speake

   Cou. Sirra tell my gentlewoman I would speake with
her, Hellen I meane

   Clo. Was this faire face the cause, quoth she,
Why the Grecians sacked Troy,
Fond done, done, fond was this King Priams ioy,
With that she sighed as she stood,

bis

And gaue this sentence then, among nine bad if one be
good, among nine bad if one be good, there's yet one
good in ten

   Cou. What, one good in tenne? you corrupt the song
sirra

   Clo. One good woman in ten Madam, which is a purifying
ath' song: would God would serue the world so
all the yeere, weed finde no fault with the tithe woman
if I were the Parson, one in ten quoth a? and wee might
haue a good woman borne but ore euerie blazing starre,
or at an earthquake, 'twould mend the Lotterie well, a
man may draw his heart out ere a plucke one

   Cou. Youle begone sir knaue, and doe as I command
you?
  Clo. That man should be at womans command, and
yet no hurt done, though honestie be no Puritan, yet
it will doe no hurt, it will weare the Surplis of humilitie
ouer the blacke-Gowne of a bigge heart: I am going
forsooth, the businesse is for Helen to come hither.
Enter.

  Cou. Well now

   Stew. I know Madam you loue your Gentlewoman
intirely

   Cou. Faith I doe: her Father bequeath'd her to mee,
and she her selfe without other aduantage, may lawfullie
make title to as much loue as shee findes, there is
more owing her then is paid, and more shall be paid
her then sheele demand

   Stew. Madam, I was verie late more neere her then
I thinke shee wisht mee, alone shee was, and did
communicate to her selfe her owne words to her
owne eares, shee thought, I dare vowe for her, they
toucht not anie stranger sence, her matter was, shee
loued your Sonne; Fortune shee said was no goddesse,
that had put such difference betwixt their two
estates: Loue no god, that would not extend his might
onelie, where qualities were leuell, Queene of Virgins,
that would suffer her poore Knight surpris'd
without rescue in the first assault or ransome afterward:
This shee deliuer'd in the most bitter touch of
sorrow that ere I heard Virgin exclaime in, which I held
my dutie speedily to acquaint you withall, sithence in
the losse that may happen, it concernes you something
to know it

   Cou. You haue discharg'd this honestlie, keepe it
to your selfe, manie likelihoods inform'd mee of this
before, which hung so tottring in the ballance, that
I could neither beleeue nor misdoubt: praie you
leaue mee, stall this in your bosome, and I thanke
you for your honest care: I will speake with you further
anon.

Exit Steward.

Enter Hellen.

  Old.Cou. Euen so it was with me when I was yong:
If euer we are natures, these are ours, this thorne
Doth to our Rose of youth rightlie belong
Our bloud to vs, this to our blood is borne,
It is the show, and seale of natures truth,
Where loues strong passion is imprest in youth,
By our remembrances of daies forgon,
Such were our faults, or then we thought them none,
Her eie is sicke on't, I obserue her now

   Hell. What is your pleasure Madam?
  Ol.Cou. You know Hellen I am a mother to you

   Hell. Mine honorable Mistris

   Ol.Cou. Nay a mother, why not a mother? when I
sed a mother
Me thought you saw a serpent, what's in mother,
That you start at it? I say I am your mother,
And put you in the Catalogue of those
That were enwombed mine, 'tis often seene
Adoption striues with nature, and choise breedes
A natiue slip to vs from forraine seedes:
You nere opprest me with a mothers groane,
Yet I expresse to you a mothers care,
(Gods mercie maiden) dos it curd thy blood
To say I am thy mother? what's the matter,
That this distempered messenger of wet?
The manie colour'd Iris rounds thine eye? - Why, that you are my
daughter?
  Hell. That I am not

   Old.Cou. I say I am your Mother

   Hell. Pardon Madam.
The Count Rosillion cannot be my brother:
I am from humble, he from honored name:
No note vpon my Parents, his all noble,
My Master, my deere Lord he is, and I
His seruant liue, and will his vassall die:
He must not be my brother

   Ol.Cou. Nor I your Mother

   Hell. You are my mother Madam, would you were
So that my Lord your sonne were not my brother,
Indeede my mother, or were you both our mothers,
I care no more for, then I doe for heauen,
So I were not his sister, cant no other,
But I your daughter, he must be my brother

   Old.Cou. Yes Hellen, you might be my daughter in law,
God shield you meane it not, daughter and mother
So striue vpon your pulse; what pale agen?
My feare hath catcht your fondnesse! now I see
The mistrie of your louelinesse, and finde
Your salt teares head, now to all sence 'tis grosse:
You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'd
Against the proclamation of thy passion
To say thou doost not: therefore tell me true,
But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekes
Confesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and thine eies
See it so grosely showne in thy behauiours,
That in their kinde they speake it, onely sinne
And hellish obstinacie tye thy tongue
That truth should be suspected, speake, ist so?
If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:
If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,
As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaile
To tell me truelie

   Hell. Good Madam pardon me

   Cou. Do you loue my Sonne?
  Hell. Your pardon noble Mistris

   Cou. Loue you my Sonne?
  Hell. Doe not you loue him Madam?
  Cou. Goe not about; my loue hath in't a bond
Whereof the world takes note: Come, come, disclose:
The state of your affection, for your passions
Haue to the full appeach'd

   Hell. Then I confesse
Here on my knee, before high heauen and you,
That before you, and next vnto high heauen, I loue your
Sonne:
My friends were poore but honest, so's my loue:
Be not offended, for it hurts not him
That he is lou'd of me; I follow him not
By any token of presumptuous suite,
Nor would I haue him, till I doe deserue him,
Yet neuer know how that desert should be:
I know I loue in vaine, striue against hope:
Yet in this captious, and intemible Siue.
I still poure in the waters of my loue
And lacke not to loose still; thus Indian like
Religious in mine error, I adore
The Sunne that lookes vpon his worshipper,
But knowes of him no more. My deerest Madam,
Let not your hate incounter with my loue,
For louing where you doe; but if your selfe,
Whose aged honor cites a vertuous youth,
Did euer, in so true a flame of liking,
Wish chastly, and loue dearely, that your Dian
Was both her selfe and loue, O then giue pittie
To her whose state is such, that cannot choose
But lend and giue where she is sure to loose;
That seekes not to finde that, her search implies,
But riddle like, liues sweetely where she dies

   Cou. Had you not lately an intent, speake truely,
To goe to Paris?
  Hell. Madam I had

   Cou. Wherefore? tell true

   Hell. I will tell truth, by grace it selfe I sweare:
You know my Father left me some prescriptions
Of rare and prou'd effects, such as his reading
And manifest experience, had collected
For generall soueraigntie: and that he wil'd me
In heedefull'st reseruation to bestow them,
As notes, whose faculties inclusiue were,
More then they were in note: Amongst the rest,
There is a remedie, approu'd, set downe,
To cure the desperate languishings whereof
The King is render'd lost

   Cou. This was your motiue for Paris, was it, speake?
  Hell. My Lord, your sonne, made me to think of this;
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the King,
Had from the conuersation of my thoughts,
Happily beene absent then

   Cou. But thinke you Hellen,
If you should tender your supposed aide,
He would receiue it? He and his Phisitions
Are of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:
They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they credit
A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles
Embowel'd of their doctrine, haue left off
The danger to it selfe

   Hell. There's something in't
More then my Fathers skill, which was the great'st
Of his profession, that his good receipt,
Shall for my legacie be sanctified
Byth' luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honor
But giue me leaue to trie successe, I'de venture
The well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,
By such a day, an houre

   Cou. Doo'st thou beleeue't?
  Hell. I Madam knowingly

   Cou. Why Hellen thou shalt haue my leaue and loue,
Meanes and attendants, and my louing greetings
To those of mine in Court, Ile staie at home
And praie Gods blessing into thy attempt:
Begon to morrow, and be sure of this,
What I can helpe thee to, thou shalt not misse.

Exeunt.


Actus Secundus.

Enter the King with diuers yong Lords, taking leaue for the
Florentine
warre: Count, Rosse, and Parrolles. Florish Cornets.

  King. Farewell yong Lords, these warlike principles
Doe not throw from you, and you my Lords farewell:
Share the aduice betwixt you, if both gaine, all
The guift doth stretch it selfe as 'tis receiu'd,
And is enough for both

   Lord.G. 'Tis our hope sir,
After well entred souldiers, to returne
And finde your grace in health

   King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my heart
Will not confesse he owes the mallady
That doth my life besiege: farwell yong Lords,
Whether I liue or die, be you the sonnes
Of worthy French men: let higher Italy
(Those bated that inherit but the fall
Of the last Monarchy) see that you come
Not to wooe honour, but to wed it, when
The brauest questant shrinkes: finde what you seeke,
That fame may cry you loud: I say farewell

   L.G. Health at your bidding serue your Maiesty

   King. Those girles of Italy, take heed of them,
They say our French, lacke language to deny
If they demand: beware of being Captiues
Before you serue

   Bo. Our hearts receiue your warnings

   King. Farewell, come hether to me

   1.Lo.G. Oh my sweet Lord y you wil stay behind vs

   Parr. 'Tis not his fault the spark

   2.Lo.E. Oh 'tis braue warres

   Parr. Most admirable, I haue seene those warres

   Rossill. I am commanded here, and kept a coyle with,
Too young, and the next yeere, and 'tis too early

   Parr. And thy minde stand too't boy,
Steale away brauely

   Rossill. I shal stay here the for-horse to a smocke,
Creeking my shooes on the plaine Masonry,
Till honour be bought vp, and no sword worne
But one to dance with: by heauen, Ile steale away

   1.Lo.G. There's honour in the theft

   Parr. Commit it Count

   2.Lo.E. I am your accessary, and so farewell

   Ros. I grow to you, & our parting is a tortur'd body

   1.Lo.G. Farewell Captaine

   2.Lo.E. Sweet Mounsier Parolles

   Parr. Noble Heroes; my sword and yours are kinne,
good sparkes and lustrous, a word good mettals. You
shall finde in the Regiment of the Spinij, one Captaine
Spurio his sicatrice, with an Embleme of warre heere on
his sinister cheeke; it was this very sword entrench'd it:
say to him I liue, and obserue his reports for me

   Lo.G. We shall noble Captaine

   Parr. Mars doate on you for his nouices, what will
ye doe?
  Ross. Stay the King

   Parr. Vse a more spacious ceremonie to the Noble
Lords, you haue restrain'd your selfe within the List of
too cold an adieu: be more expressiue to them; for they
weare themselues in the cap of the time, there do muster
true gate; eat, speake, and moue vnder the influence of
the most receiu'd starre, and though the deuill leade the
measure, such are to be followed: after them, and take a
more dilated farewell

   Ross. And I will doe so

   Parr. Worthy fellowes, and like to prooue most sinewie
sword-men.

Exeunt.

Enter Lafew.

  L.Laf. Pardon my Lord for mee and for my tidings

   King. Ile see thee to stand vp

   L.Laf. Then heres a man stands that has brought his pardon,
I would you had kneel'd my Lord to aske me mercy,
And that at my bidding you could so stand vp

   King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate
And askt thee mercy for't

   Laf. Goodfaith a-crosse, but my good Lord 'tis thus,
Will you be cur'd of your infirmitie?
  King. No

   Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall foxe?
Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and if
My royall foxe could reach them: I haue seen a medicine
That's able to breath life into a stone,
Quicken a rocke, and make you dance Canari
With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch
Is powerfull to arayse King Pippen, nay
To giue great Charlemaine a pen in's hand
And write to her a loue-line

   King. What her is this?
  Laf. Why doctor she: my Lord, there's one arriu'd,
If you will see her: now by my faith and honour,
If seriously I may conuay my thoughts
In this my light deliuerance, I haue spoke
With one, that in her sexe, her yeeres, profession,
Wisedome and constancy, hath amaz'd mee more
Then I dare blame my weakenesse: will you see her?
For that is her demand, and know her businesse?
That done, laugh well at me

   King. Now good Lafew,
Bring in the admiration, that we with thee
May spend our wonder too, or take off thine
By wondring how thou tookst it

   Laf. Nay, Ile fit you,
And not be all day neither

   King. Thus he his speciall nothing euer prologues

   Laf. Nay, come your waies.
Enter Hellen.

  King. This haste hath wings indeed

   Laf. Nay, come your waies,
This is his Maiestie, say your minde to him,
A Traitor you doe looke like, but such traitors
His Maiesty seldome feares, I am Cresseds Vncle,
That dare leaue two together, far you well.
Enter.

  King. Now faire one, do's your busines follow vs?
  Hel. I my good Lord,
Gerard de Narbon was my father,
In what he did professe, well found

   King. I knew him

   Hel. The rather will I spare my praises towards him,
Knowing him is enough: on's bed of death,
Many receits he gaue me, chieflie one,
Which as the dearest issue of his practice
And of his olde experience, th' onlie darling,
He bad me store vp, as a triple eye,
Safer then mine owne two: more deare I haue so,
And hearing your high Maiestie is toucht
With that malignant cause, wherein the honour
Of my deare fathers gift, stands cheefe in power,
I come to tender it, and my appliance,
With all bound humblenesse

   King. We thanke you maiden,
But may not be so credulous of cure,
When our most learned Doctors leaue vs, and
The congregated Colledge haue concluded,
That labouring Art can neuer ransome nature
From her inaydible estate: I say we must not
So staine our iudgement, or corrupt our hope,
To prostitute our past-cure malladie
To empericks, or to disseuer so
Our great selfe and our credit, to esteeme
A sencelesse helpe, when helpe past sence we deeme

   Hell. My dutie then shall pay me for my paines:
I will no more enforce mine office on you,
Humbly intreating from your royall thoughts,
A modest one to beare me backe againe

   King. I cannot giue thee lesse to be cal'd gratefull:
Thou thoughtst to helpe me, and such thankes I giue,
As one neere death to those that wish him liue:
But what at full I know, thou knowst no part,
I knowing all my perill, thou no Art

   Hell. What I can doe, can doe no hurt to try,
Since you set vp your rest 'gainst remedie:
He that of greatest workes is finisher,
Oft does them by the weakest minister:
So holy Writ, in babes hath iudgement showne,
When Iudges haue bin babes; great flouds haue flowne
From simple sources: and great Seas haue dried
When Miracles haue by the great'st beene denied.
Oft expectation failes, and most oft there
Where most it promises: and oft it hits,
Where hope is coldest, and despaire most shifts

   King. I must not heare thee, fare thee wel kind maide,
Thy paines not vs'd, must by thy selfe be paid,
Proffers not tooke, reape thanks for their reward

   Hel. Inspired Merit so by breath is bard,
It is not so with him that all things knowes
As 'tis with vs, that square our guesse by showes:
But most it is presumption in vs, when
The help of heauen we count the act of men.
Deare sir, to my endeauors giue consent,
Of heauen, not me, make an experiment.
I am not an Imposture, that proclaime
My selfe against the leuill of mine aime,
But know I thinke, and thinke I know most sure,
My Art is not past power, nor you past cure

   King. Art thou so confident? Within what space
Hop'st thou my cure?
  Hel. The greatest grace lending grace,
Ere twice the horses of the sunne shall bring
Their fiery torcher his diurnall ring,
Ere twice in murke and occidentall dampe
Moist Hesperus hath quench'd her sleepy Lampe:
Or foure and twenty times the Pylots glasse
Hath told the theeuish minutes, how they passe:
What is infirme, from your sound parts shall flie,
Health shall liue free, and sickenesse freely dye

   King. Vpon thy certainty and confidence,
What dar'st thou venter?
  Hell. Taxe of impudence,
A strumpets boldnesse, a divulged shame
Traduc'd by odious ballads: my maidens name
Seard otherwise, ne worse of worst extended
With vildest torture, let my life be ended

   Kin. Methinks in thee some blessed spirit doth speak
His powerfull sound, within an organ weake:
And what impossibility would slay
In common sence, sence saues another way:
Thy life is deere, for all that life can rate
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate:
Youth, beauty, wisedome, courage, all
That happines and prime, can happy call:
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate,
Sweet practiser, thy Physicke I will try,
That ministers thine owne death if I die

   Hel. If I breake time, or flinch in property
Of what I spoke, vnpittied let me die,
And well deseru'd: not helping, death's my fee,
But if I helpe, what doe you promise me

   Kin. Make thy demand

   Hel. But will you make it euen?
  Kin. I by my Scepter, and my hopes of helpe

   Hel. Then shalt thou giue me with thy kingly hand
What husband in thy power I will command:
Exempted be from me the arrogance
To choose from forth the royall bloud of France,
My low and humble name to propagate
With any branch or image of thy state:
But such a one thy vassall, whom I know
Is free for me to aske, thee to bestow

   Kin. Heere is my hand, the premises obseru'd,
Thy will by my performance shall be seru'd:
So make the choice of thy owne time, for I
Thy resolv'd Patient, on thee still relye:
More should I question thee, and more I must,
Though more to know, could not be more to trust:
From whence thou cam'st, how tended on, but rest
Vnquestion'd welcome, and vndoubted blest.
Giue me some helpe heere hoa, if thou proceed,
As high as word, my deed shall match thy deed.

Florish. Exit.

Enter Countesse and Clowne.

  Lady. Come on sir, I shall now put you to the height
of your breeding

   Clown. I will shew my selfe highly fed, and lowly
taught, I know my businesse is but to the Court

   Lady. To the Court, why what place make you speciall,
when you put off that with such contempt, but to
the Court?
  Clo. Truly Madam, if God haue lent a man any manners,
hee may easilie put it off at Court: hee that cannot
make a legge, put off's cap, kisse his hand, and say nothing,
has neither legge, hands, lippe, nor cap; and indeed
such a fellow, to say precisely, were not for the
Court, but for me, I haue an answere will serue all men

   Lady. Marry that's a bountifull answere that fits all
questions

   Clo. It is like a Barbers chaire that fits all buttockes,
the pin buttocke, the quatch-buttocke, the brawn buttocke,
or any buttocke

   Lady. Will your answere serue fit to all questions?
  Clo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of an Atturney,
as your French Crowne for your taffety punke, as
Tibs rush for Toms fore-finger, as a pancake for Shroue-tuesday,
a Morris for May-day, as the naile to his hole,
the Cuckold to his horne, as a scolding queane to a
wrangling knaue, as the Nuns lip to the Friers mouth,
nay as the pudding to his skin

   Lady. Haue you, I say, an answere of such fitnesse for
all questions?
  Clo. From below your Duke, to beneath your Constable,
it will fit any question

   Lady. It must be an answere of most monstrous size,
that must fit all demands

   Clo. But a triflle neither in good faith, if the learned
should speake truth of it: heere it is, and all that belongs
to't. Aske mee if I am a Courtier, it shall doe you no
harme to learne

   Lady. To be young againe if we could: I will bee a
foole in question, hoping to bee the wiser by your answer

   La. I pray you sir, are you a Courtier?
  Clo. O Lord sir theres a simple putting off: more,
more, a hundred of them

   La. Sir I am a poore freind of yours, that loues you

   Clo. O Lord sir, thicke, thicke, spare not me

   La. I thinke sir, you can eate none of this homely
meate

   Clo. O Lord sir; nay put me too't, I warrant you

   La. You were lately whipt sir as I thinke

   Clo. O Lord sir, spare not me

   La. Doe you crie O Lord sir at your whipping, and
spare not me? Indeed your O Lord sir, is very sequent
to your whipping: you would answere very well to a
whipping if you were but bound too't

   Clo. I nere had worse lucke in my life in my O Lord
sir: I see things may serue long, but not serue euer

   La. I play the noble huswife with the time, to entertaine
it so merrily with a foole

   Clo. O Lord sir, why there't serues well agen

   La. And end sir to your businesse: giue Hellen this,
And vrge her to a present answer backe,
Commend me to my kinsmen, and my sonne,
This is not much

   Clo. Not much commendation to them

   La. Not much imployement for you, you vnderstand
me

   Clo. Most fruitfully, I am there, before my legges

   La. Hast you agen.

Exeunt.

Enter Count, Lafew, and Parolles.

  Ol.Laf. They say miracles are past, and we haue our
Philosophicall persons, to make moderne and familiar
things supernaturall and causelesse. Hence is it, that we
make trifles of terrours, ensconcing our selues into seeming
knowledge, when we should submit our selues to
an vnknowne feare

   Par. Why 'tis the rarest argument of wonder, that
hath shot out in our latter times

   Ros. And so 'tis

   Ol.Laf. To be relinquisht of the Artists

   Par. So I say both of Galen and Paracelsus

   Ol.Laf. Of all the learned and authenticke fellowes

   Par. Right so I say

   Ol.Laf. That gaue him out incureable

   Par. Why there 'tis, so say I too

   Ol.Laf. Not to be help'd

   Par. Right, as 'twere a man assur'd of a-
  Ol.Laf. Vncertaine life, and sure death

   Par. Iust, you say well: so would I haue said

   Ol.Laf. I may truly say, it is a noueltie to the world

   Par. It is indeede if you will haue it in shewing, you
shall reade it in what do ye call there

   Ol.Laf. A shewing of a heauenly effect in an earthly
Actor

   Par. That's it, I would haue said, the verie same

   Ol.Laf. Why your Dolphin is not lustier: fore mee
I speake in respect-
  Par. Nay 'tis strange, 'tis very straunge, that is the
breefe and the tedious of it, and he's of a most facinerious
spirit, that will not acknowledge it to be the-
  Ol.Laf. Very hand of heauen

   Par. I, so I say

   Ol.Laf. In a most weake-
  Par. And debile minister great power, great trancendence,
which should indeede giue vs a further vse to
be made, then alone the recou'ry of the king, as to bee
  Old Laf. Generally thankfull.
Enter King, Hellen, and attendants.

  Par. I would haue said it, you say well: heere comes
the King

   Ol.Laf. Lustique, as the Dutchman saies: Ile like a
maide the Better whil'st I haue a tooth in my head: why
he's able to leade her a Carranto

   Par. Mor du vinager, is not this Helen?
  Ol.Laf. Fore God I thinke so

   King. Goe call before mee all the Lords in Court,
Sit my preseruer by thy patients side,
And with this healthfull hand whose banisht sence
Thou hast repeal'd, a second time receyue
The confirmation of my promis'd guift,
Which but attends thy naming.
Enter 3 or 4 Lords.

Faire Maide send forth thine eye, this youthfull parcell
Of Noble Batchellors, stand at my bestowing,
Ore whom both Soueraigne power, and fathers voice
I haue to vse; thy franke election make,
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to forsake

   Hel. To each of you, one faire and vertuous Mistris;
Fall when loue please, marry to each but one

   Old Laf. I'de giue bay curtall, and his furniture
My mouth no more were broken then these boyes,
And writ as little beard

   King. Peruse them well:
Not one of those, but had a Noble father.

She addresses her to a Lord.

  Hel. Gentlemen, heauen hath through me, restor'd
the king to health

   All. We vnderstand it, and thanke heauen for you

   Hel. I am a simple Maide, and therein wealthiest
That I protest, I simply am a Maide:
Please it your Maiestie, I haue done already:
The blushes in my cheekes thus whisper mee,
We blush that thou shouldst choose, but be refused;
Let the white death sit on thy cheeke for euer,
Wee'l nere come there againe

   King. Make choise and see,
Who shuns thy loue, shuns all his loue in mee

   Hel. Now Dian from thy Altar do I fly,
And to imperiall loue, that God most high
Do my sighes streame: Sir, wil you heare my suite?
  1.Lo. And grant it

   Hel. Thankes sir, all the rest is mute

   Ol.Laf. I had rather be in this choise, then throw
Ames-ace for my life

   Hel. The honor sir that flames in your faire eyes,
Before I speake too threatningly replies:
Loue make your fortunes twentie times aboue
Her that so wishes, and her humble loue

   2.Lo. No better if you please

   Hel. My wish receiue,
Which great loue grant, and so I take my leaue

   Ol.Laf. Do all they denie her? And they were sons
of mine, I'de haue them whip'd, or I would send them
to'th Turke to make Eunuches of

   Hel. Be not afraid that I your hand should take,
Ile neuer do you wrong for your owne sake:
Blessing vpon your vowes, and in your bed
Finde fairer fortune, if you euer wed

   Old Laf. These boyes are boyes of Ice, they'le none
haue heere: sure they are bastards to the English, the
French nere got em

   La. You are too young, too happie, and too good
To make your selfe a sonne out of my blood

   4.Lord. Faire one, I thinke not so

   Ol.Lord There's one grape yet, I am sure thy father
drunke wine. But if thou be'st not an asse, I am a youth
of fourteene: I haue knowne thee already

   Hel. I dare not say I take you, but I giue
Me and my seruice, euer whilst I liue
Into your guiding power: This is the man

   King. Why then young Bertram take her shee's thy
wife

   Ber. My wife my Leige? I shal beseech your highnes
In such a busines, giue me leaue to vse
The helpe of mine owne eies

   King. Know'st thou not Bertram what shee ha's
done for mee?
  Ber. Yes my good Lord, but neuer hope to know
why I should marrie her

   King. Thou know'st shee ha's rais'd me from my sickly
bed

   Ber. But followes it my Lord, to bring me downe
Must answer for your raising? I knowe her well:
Shee had her breeding at my fathers charge:
A poore Physitians daughter my wife? Disdaine
Rather corrupt me euer

   King. Tis onely title thou disdainst in her, the which
I can build vp: strange is it that our bloods
Of colour, waight, and heat, pour'd all together,
Would quite confound distinction: yet stands off
In differences so mightie. If she bee
All that is vertuous (saue what thou dislik'st)
A poore Phisitians daughter, thou dislik'st
Of vertue for the name: but doe not so:
From lowest place, whence vertuous things proceed,
The place is dignified by th' doers deede.
Where great additions swell's, and vertue none,
It is a dropsied honour. Good alone,
Is good without a name? Vilenesse is so:
The propertie by what is is, should go,
Not by the title. Shee is young, wise, faire,
In these, to Nature shee's immediate heire:
And these breed honour: that is honours scorne,
Which challenges it selfe as honours borne,
And is not like the sire: Honours thriue,
When rather from our acts we them deriue
Then our fore-goers: the meere words, a slaue
Debosh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue:
A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,
Where dust, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe.
Of honour'd bones indeed, what should be saide?
If thou canst like this creature, as a maide,
I can create the rest: Vertue, and shee
Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee

   Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will striue to doo't

   King. Thou wrong'st thy selfe, if thou shold'st striue
to choose

   Hel. That you are well restor'd my Lord, I'me glad:
Let the rest go

   King. My Honor's at the stake, which to defeate
I must produce my power. Heere, take her hand,
Proud scornfull boy, vnworthie this good gift,
That dost in vile misprision shackle vp
My loue, and her desert: that canst not dreame,
We poizing vs in her defectiue scale,
Shall weigh thee to the beame: That wilt not know,
It is in Vs to plant thine Honour, where
We please to haue it grow. Checke thy contempt:
Obey Our will, which trauailes in thy good:
Beleeue not thy disdaine, but presentlie
Do thine owne fortunes that obedient right
Which both thy dutie owes, and Our power claimes,
Or I will throw thee from my care for euer
Into the staggers, and the carelesse lapse
Of youth and ignorance: both my reuenge and hate
Loosing vpon thee, in the name of iustice,
Without all termes of pittie. Speake, thine answer

   Ber. Pardon my gracious Lord: for I submit
My fancie to your eies, when I consider
What great creation, and what dole of honour
Flies where you bid it: I finde that she which late
Was in my Nobler thoughts, most base: is now
The praised of the King, who so ennobled,
Is as 'twere borne so

   King. Take her by the hand,
And tell her she is thine: to whom I promise
A counterpoize: If not to thy estate,
A ballance more repleat

   Ber. I take her hand

   Kin. Good fortune, and the fauour of the King
Smile vpon this Contract: whose Ceremonie
Shall seeme expedient on the now borne briefe,
And be perform'd to night: the solemne Feast
Shall more attend vpon the coming space,
Expecting absent friends. As thou lou'st her,
Thy loue's to me Religious: else, do's erre.

Exeunt.

Parolles and Lafew stay behind, commenting of this wedding.

  Laf. Do you heare Monsieur? A word with you

   Par. Your pleasure sir

   Laf. Your Lord and Master did well to make his recantation

   Par. Recantation? My Lord? my Master?
  Laf. I: Is it not a Language I speake?
  Par. A most harsh one, and not to bee vnderstoode
without bloudie succeeding. My Master?
  Laf. Are you Companion to the Count Rosillion?
  Par. To any Count, to all Counts: to what is man

   Laf. To what is Counts man: Counts maister is of
another stile

   Par. You are too old sir: Let it satisfie you, you are
too old

   Laf. I must tell thee sirrah, I write Man: to which
title age cannot bring thee

   Par. What I dare too well do, I dare not do

   Laf. I did thinke thee for two ordinaries: to bee a
prettie wise fellow, thou didst make tollerable vent of
thy trauell, it might passe: yet the scarffes and the bannerets
about thee, did manifoldlie disswade me from beleeuing
thee a vessell of too great a burthen. I haue now
found thee, when I loose thee againe, I care not: yet art
thou good for nothing but taking vp, and that th'ourt
scarce worth

   Par. Hadst thou not the priuiledge of Antiquity vpon
thee

   Laf. Do not plundge thy selfe to farre in anger, least
thou hasten thy triall: which if, Lord haue mercie on
thee for a hen, so my good window of Lettice fare thee
well, thy casement I neede not open, for I look through
thee. Giue me thy hand

   Par. My Lord, you giue me most egregious indignity

   Laf. I with all my heart, and thou art worthy of it

   Par. I haue not my Lord deseru'd it

   Laf. Yes good faith, eu'ry dramme of it, and I will
not bate thee a scruple

   Par. Well, I shall be wiser

   Laf. Eu'n as soone as thou can'st, for thou hast to pull
at a smacke a'th contrarie. If euer thou bee'st bound
in thy skarfe and beaten, thou shall finde what it is to be
proud of thy bondage, I haue a desire to holde my acquaintance
with thee, or rather my knowledge, that I
may say in the default, he is a man I know

   Par. My Lord you do me most insupportable vexation

   Laf. I would it were hell paines for thy sake, and my
poore doing eternall: for doing I am past, as I will by
thee, in what motion age will giue me leaue.
Enter.

  Par. Well, thou hast a sonne shall take this disgrace
off me; scuruy, old, filthy, scuruy Lord: Well, I must
be patient, there is no fettering of authority. Ile beate
him (by my life) if I can meete him with any conuenience,
and he were double and double a Lord. Ile haue
no more pittie of his age then I would haue of- Ile
beate him, and if I could but meet him agen.
Enter Lafew.

  Laf. Sirra, your Lord and masters married, there's
newes for you: you haue a new Mistris

   Par. I most vnfainedly beseech your Lordshippe to
make some reseruation of your wrongs. He is my good
Lord, whom I serue aboue is my master

   Laf. Who? God

   Par. I sir

   Laf. The deuill it is, that's thy master. Why dooest
thou garter vp thy armes a this fashion? Dost make hose
of thy sleeues? Do other seruants so? Thou wert best set
thy lower part where thy nose stands. By mine Honor,
if I were but two houres yonger, I'de beate thee: mee-think'st
thou art a generall offence, and euery man shold
beate thee: I thinke thou wast created for men to breath
themselues vpon thee

   Par. This is hard and vndeserued measure my Lord

   Laf. Go too sir, you were beaten in Italy for picking
a kernell out of a Pomgranat, you are a vagabond, and
no true traueller: you are more sawcie with Lordes and
honourable personages, then the Commission of your
birth and vertue giues you Heraldry. You are not worth
another word, else I'de call you knaue. I leaue you.

Exit

Enter Count Rossillion.

  Par. Good, very good, it is so then: good, very
good, let it be conceal'd awhile

   Ros. Vndone, and forfeited to cares for euer

   Par. What's the matter sweet-heart?
  Rossill. Although before the solemne Priest I haue
sworne, I will not bed her

   Par. What? what sweet heart?
  Ros. O my Parrolles, they haue married me:
Ile to the Tuscan warres, and neuer bed her

   Par. France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits,
The tread of a mans foot: too'th warres

   Ros. There's letters from my mother: What th' import
is, I know not yet

   Par. I that would be knowne: too'th warrs my boy,
too'th warres:
He weares his honor in a boxe vnseene,
That hugges his kickie wickie heare at home,
Spending his manlie marrow in her armes
Which should sustaine the bound and high curuet
Of Marses fierie steed: to other Regions,
France is a stable, wee that dwell in't Iades,
Therefore too'th warre

   Ros. It shall be so, Ile send her to my house,
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her,
And wherefore I am fled: Write to the King
That which I durst not speake. His present gift
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields
Where noble fellowes strike: Warres is no strife
To the darke house, and the detected wife

   Par. Will this Caprichio hold in thee, art sure?
  Ros. Go with me to my chamber, and aduice me.
Ile send her straight away: To morrow,
Ile to the warres, she to her single sorrow

   Par. Why these bals bound, ther's noise in it. Tis hard
A yong man maried, is a man that's mard:
Therefore away, and leaue her brauely: go,
The King ha's done you wrong: but hush 'tis so.

Exit

Enter Helena and Clowne.

  Hel. My mother greets me kindly, is she well?
  Clo. She is not well, but yet she has her health, she's
very merrie, but yet she is not well: but thankes be giuen
she's very well, and wants nothing i'th world: but
yet she is not well

   Hel. If she be verie wel, what do's she ayle, that she's
not verie well?
  Clo. Truly she's very well indeed, but for two things
  Hel. What two things?
  Clo. One, that she's not in heauen, whether God send
her quickly: the other, that she's in earth, from whence
God send her quickly.
Enter Parolles.

  Par. Blesse you my fortunate Ladie

   Hel. I hope sir I haue your good will to haue mine
owne good fortune

   Par. You had my prayers to leade them on, and to
keepe them on, haue them still. O my knaue, how do's
my old Ladie?
  Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I her money,
I would she did as you say

   Par. Why I say nothing

   Clo. Marry you are the wiser man: for many a mans
tongue shakes out his masters vndoing: to say nothing,
to do nothing, to know nothing, and to haue nothing,
is to be a great part of your title, which is within a verie
little of nothing

   Par. Away, th'art a knaue

   Clo. You should haue said sir before a knaue, th'art a
knaue, that's before me th'art a knaue: this had beene
truth sir

   Par. Go too, thou art a wittie foole, I haue found
thee

   Clo. Did you finde me in your selfe sir, or were you
taught to finde me?
  Clo. The search sir was profitable, and much Foole
may you find in you, euen to the worlds pleasure, and the
encrease of laughter

   Par. A good knaue ifaith, and well fed.
Madam, my Lord will go awaie to night,
A verie serrious businesse call's on him:
The great prerogatiue and rite of loue,
Which as your due time claimes, he do's acknowledge,
But puts it off to a compell'd restraint:
Whose want, and whose delay, is strew'd with sweets
Which they distill now in the curbed time,
To make the comming houre oreflow with ioy,
And pleasure drowne the brim

   Hel. What's his will else?
  Par. That you will take your instant leaue a'th king,
And make this hast as your owne good proceeding,
Strengthned with what Apologie you thinke
May make it probable neede

   Hel. What more commands hee?
  Par. That hauing this obtain'd, you presentlie
Attend his further pleasure

   Hel. In euery thing I waite vpon his will

   Par. I shall report it so.

Exit Par.

  Hell. I pray you come sirrah.

Exit

Enter Lafew and Bertram.

  Laf. But I hope your Lordshippe thinkes not him a
souldier

   Ber. Yes my Lord and of verie valiant approofe

   Laf. You haue it from his owne deliuerance

   Ber. And by other warranted testimonie

   Laf. Then my Diall goes not true, I tooke this Larke
for a bunting

   Ber. I do assure you my Lord he is very great in knowledge,
and accordinglie valiant

   Laf. I haue then sinn'd against his experience, and
transgrest against his valour, and my state that way is
dangerous, since I cannot yet find in my heart to repent:
Heere he comes, I pray you make vs freinds, I will pursue
the amitie.
Enter Parolles.

  Par. These things shall be done sir

   Laf. Pray you sir whose his Tailor?
  Par. Sir?
  Laf. O I know him well, I sir, hee sirs a good workeman,
a verie good Tailor

   Ber. Is shee gone to the king?
  Par. Shee is

   Ber. Will shee away to night?
  Par. As you'le haue her

   Ber. I haue writ my letters, casketted my treasure,
Giuen order for our horses, and to night,
When I should take possession of the Bride,
And ere I doe begin

   Laf. A good Trauailer is something at the latter end
of a dinner, but on that lies three thirds, and vses a
known truth to passe a thousand nothings with, should
bee once hard, and thrice beaten. God saue you Captaine

   Ber. Is there any vnkindnes betweene my Lord and
you Monsieur?
  Par. I know not how I haue deserued to run into my
Lords displeasure

   Laf. You haue made shift to run into't, bootes and
spurres and all: like him that leapt into the Custard, and
out of it you'le runne againe, rather then suffer question
for your residence

   Ber. It may bee you haue mistaken him my Lord

   Laf. And shall doe so euer, though I tooke him at's
prayers. Fare you well my Lord, and beleeue this of
me, there can be no kernell in this light Nut: the soule
of this man is his cloathes: Trust him not in matter of
heauie consequence: I haue kept of them tame, & know
their natures. Farewell Monsieur, I haue spoken better
of you, then you haue or will to deserue at my hand, but
we must do good against euill

   Par. An idle Lord, I sweare

   Ber. I thinke so

   Par. Why do you not know him?
  Ber. Yes, I do know him well, and common speech
Giues him a worthy passe. Heere comes my clog.
Enter Helena.

  Hel. I haue sir as I was commanded from you
Spoke with the King, and haue procur'd his leaue
For present parting, onely he desires
Some priuate speech with you

   Ber. I shall obey his will.
You must not meruaile Helen at my course,
Which holds not colour with the time, nor does
The ministration, and required office
On my particular. Prepar'd I was not
For such a businesse, therefore am I found
So much vnsetled: This driues me to intreate you,
That presently you take your way for home,
And rather muse then aske why I intreate you,
For my respects are better then they seeme,
And my appointments haue in them a neede
Greater then shewes it selfe at the first view,
To you that know them not. This to my mother,
'Twill be two daies ere I shall see you, so
I leaue you to your wisedome

   Hel. Sir, I can nothing say,
But that I am your most obedient seruant

   Ber. Come, come, no more of that

   Hel. And euer shall
With true obseruance seeke to eeke out that
Wherein toward me my homely starres haue faild
To equall my great fortune

   Ber. Let that goe: my hast is verie great. Farwell:
Hie home

   Hel. Pray sir your pardon

   Ber. Well, what would you say?
  Hel. I am not worthie of the wealth I owe,
Nor dare I say 'tis mine: and yet it is,
But like a timorous theefe, most faine would steale
What law does vouch mine owne

   Ber. What would you haue?
  Hel. Something, and scarse so much: nothing indeed,
I would not tell you what I would my Lord: Faith yes,
Strangers and foes do sunder, and not kisse

   Ber. I pray you stay not, but in hast to horse

   Hel. I shall not breake your bidding, good my Lord:
Where are my other men? Monsieur, farwell.

Exit

  Ber. Go thou toward home, where I wil neuer come,
Whilst I can shake my sword, or heare the drumme:
Away, and for our flight

   Par. Brauely, Coragio.

Actus Tertius.

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, the two Frenchmen, with a
troope of
Souldiers.

  Duke. So that from point to point, now haue you heard
The fundamentall reasons of this warre,
Whose great decision hath much blood let forth
And more thirsts after

   1.Lord. Holy seemes the quarrell
Vpon your Graces part: blacke and fearefull
On the opposer

   Duke. Therefore we meruaile much our Cosin France
Would in so iust a businesse, shut his bosome
Against our borrowing prayers

   French E. Good my Lord,
The reasons of our state I cannot yeelde,
But like a common and an outward man,
That the great figure of a Counsaile frames,
By selfe vnable motion, therefore dare not
Say what I thinke of it, since I haue found
My selfe in my incertaine grounds to faile
As often as I guest

   Duke. Be it his pleasure

   Fren.G. But I am sure the yonger of our nature,
That surfet on their ease, will day by day
Come heere for Physicke

   Duke. Welcome shall they bee:
And all the honors that can flye from vs,
Shall on them settle: you know your places well,
When better fall, for your auailes they fell,
To morrow to'th the field.

Flourish.

Enter Countesse and Clowne.

  Count. It hath happen'd all, as I would haue had it, saue
that he comes not along with her

   Clo. By my troth I take my young Lord to be a verie
melancholly man

   Count. By what obseruance I pray you

   Clo. Why he will looke vppon his boote, and sing:
mend the Ruffe and sing, aske questions and sing, picke
his teeth, and sing: I know a man that had this tricke of
melancholy hold a goodly Mannor for a song

   Lad. Let me see what he writes, and when he meanes
to come

   Clow. I haue no minde to Isbell since I was at Court.
Our old Lings, and our Isbels a'th Country, are nothing
like your old Ling and your Isbels a'th Court: the brains
of my Cupid's knock'd out, and I beginne to loue, as an
old man loues money, with no stomacke

   Lad. What haue we heere?
  Clo. In that you haue there.

Exit

A Letter.

I haue sent you a daughter-in-Law, shee hath recouered the
King, and vndone me: I haue wedded her, not bedded her,
and sworne to make the not eternall. You shall heare I am
runne away, know it before the report come. If there bee
bredth enough in the world, I will hold a long distance. My
duty to you. Your vnfortunate sonne,
Bertram.
This is not well rash and vnbridled boy,
To flye the fauours of so good a King,
To plucke his indignation on thy head,
By the misprising of a Maide too vertuous
For the contempt of Empire.
Enter Clowne.

  Clow. O Madam, yonder is heauie newes within betweene
two souldiers, and my yong Ladie

   La. What is the matter

   Clo. Nay there is some comfort in the newes, some
comfort, your sonne will not be kild so soone as I thoght
he would

   La. Why should he be kill'd?
  Clo. So say I Madame, if he runne away, as I heare he
does, the danger is in standing too't, that's the losse of
men, though it be the getting of children. Heere they
come will tell you more. For my part I onely heare your
sonne was run away.
Enter Hellen and two Gentlemen.

  French E. Saue you good Madam

   Hel. Madam, my Lord is gone, for euer gone

   French G. Do not say so

   La. Thinke vpon patience, pray you Gentlemen,
I haue felt so many quirkes of ioy and greefe,
That the first face of neither on the start
Can woman me vntoo't. Where is my sonne I pray you?
  Fren.G. Madam he's gone to serue the Duke of Florence,
We met him thitherward, for thence we came:
And after some dispatch in hand at Court,
Thither we bend againe

   Hel. Looke on his Letter Madam, here's my Pasport.
When thou canst get the Ring vpon my finger, which neuer
shall come off, and shew mee a childe begotten of thy bodie,
that I am father too, then call me husband: but in such a (then)
I write a Neuer.
This is a dreadfull sentence

   La. Brought you this Letter Gentlemen?
  1.G. I Madam, and for the Contents sake are sorrie
for our paines

   Old La. I prethee Ladie haue a better cheere,
If thou engrossest, all the greefes are thine,
Thou robst me of a moity: He was my sonne,
But I do wash his name out of my blood,
And thou art all my childe. Towards Florence is he?
  Fren.G. I Madam

   La. And to be a souldier

   Fren.G. Such is his noble purpose, and beleeu't
The Duke will lay vpon him all the honor
That good conuenience claimes

   La. Returne you thither

   Fren.E. I Madam, with the swiftest wing of speed

   Hel. Till I haue no wife, I haue nothing in France,
'Tis bitter

   La. Finde you that there?
  Hel. I Madame

   Fren.E. 'Tis but the boldnesse of his hand haply, which
his heart was not consenting too

   Lad. Nothing in France, vntill he haue no wife:
There's nothing heere that is too good for him
But onely she, and she deserues a Lord
That twenty such rude boyes might tend vpon,
And call her hourely Mistris. Who was with him?
  Fren.E. A seruant onely, and a Gentleman: which I
haue sometime knowne

   La. Parolles was it not?
  Fren.E. I my good Ladie, hee

   La. A verie tainted fellow, and full of wickednesse,
My sonne corrupts a well deriued nature
With his inducement

   Fren.E. Indeed good Ladie the fellow has a deale of
that, too much, which holds him much to haue

   La. Y'are welcome Gentlemen, I will intreate you
when you see my sonne, to tell him that his sword can
neuer winne the honor that he looses: more Ile intreate
you written to beare along

   Fren.G. We serue you Madam in that and all your
worthiest affaires

   La. Not so, but as we change our courtesies,
Will you draw neere?
Enter.

  Hel. Till I haue no wife I haue nothing in France.
Nothing in France vntill he has no wife:
Thou shalt haue none Rossillion, none in France,
Then hast thou all againe: poore Lord, is't I
That chase thee from thy Countrie, and expose
Those tender limbes of thine, to the euent
Of the none-sparing warre? And is it I,
That driue thee from the sportiue Court, where thou
Was't shot at with faire eyes, to be the marke
Of smoakie Muskets? O you leaden messengers,
That ride vpon the violent speede of fire,
Fly with false ayme, moue the still-peering aire
That sings with piercing, do not touch my Lord:
Who euer shoots at him, I set him there.
Who euer charges on his forward brest
I am the Caitiffe that do hold him too't,
And though I kill him not, I am the cause
His death was so effected: Better 'twere
I met the rauine Lyon when he roar'd
With sharpe constraint of hunger: better 'twere,
That all the miseries which nature owes
Were mine at once. No come thou home Rossillion,
Whence honor but of danger winnes a scarre,
As oft it looses all. I will be gone:
My being heere it is, that holds thee hence,
Shall I stay heere to doo't? No, no, although
The ayre of Paradise did fan the house,
And Angels offic'd all: I will be gone,
That pittifull rumour may report my flight
To consolate thine eare. Come night, end day,
For with the darke (poore theefe) Ile steale away.
Enter.


Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Rossillion, drum and
trumpets,
soldiers, Parrolles.

  Duke. The Generall of our horse thou art, and we
Great in our hope, lay our best loue and credence
Vpon thy promising fortune

   Ber. Sir it is
A charge too heauy for my strength, but yet
Wee'l striue to beare it for your worthy sake,
To th' extreme edge of hazard

   Duke. Then go thou forth,
And fortune play vpon thy prosperous helme
As thy auspicious mistris

   Ber. This very day
Great Mars I put my selfe into thy file,
Make me but like my thoughts, and I shall proue
A louer of thy drumme, hater of loue.

Exeunt. omnes
Enter Countesse & Steward.

  La. Alas! and would you take the letter of her:
Might you not know she would do, as she has done,
By sending me a Letter. Reade it agen.

Letter.

I am S[aint]. Iaques Pilgrim, thither gone:
Ambitious loue hath so in me offended,
That bare-foot plod I the cold ground vpon
With sainted vow my faults to haue amended
Write, write, that from the bloodie course of warre,
My deerest Master your deare sonne, may hie,
Blesse him at home in peace. Whilst I from farre,
His name with zealous feruour sanctifie:
His taken labours bid him me forgiue:
I his despightfull Iuno sent him forth,
From Courtly friends, with Camping foes to liue,
Where death and danger dogges the heeles of worth.
He is too good and faire for death, and mee,
Whom I my selfe embrace, to set him free.
Ah what sharpe stings are in her mildest words?
Rynaldo, you did neuer lacke aduice so much,
As letting her passe so: had I spoke with her,
I could haue well diuerted her intents,
Which thus she hath preuented

   Ste. Pardon me Madam,
If I had giuen you this at ouer-night,
She might haue beene ore-tane: and yet she writes
Pursuite would be but vaine

   La. What Angell shall
Blesse this vnworthy husband, he cannot thriue,
Vnlesse her prayers, whom heauen delights to heare
And loues to grant, repreeue him from the wrath
Of greatest Iustice. Write, write Rynaldo,
To this vnworthy husband of his wife,
Let euerie word waigh heauie of her worth,
That he does waigh too light: my greatest greefe,
Though little he do feele it, set downe sharpely.
Dispatch the most conuenient messenger,
When haply he shall heare that she is gone,
He will returne, and hope I may that shee
Hearing so much, will speede her foote againe,
Led hither by pure loue: which of them both
Is deerest to me, I haue no skill in sence
To make distinction: prouide this Messenger:
My heart is heauie, and mine age is weake,
Greefe would haue teares, and sorrow bids me speake.

Exeunt.

A Tucket afarre off.

Enter old Widdow of Florence, her daughter Violenta and
Mariana, with
other Citizens.

  Widdow. Nay come,
For if they do approach the Citty,
We shall loose all the sight

   Diana. They say, the French Count has done
Most honourable seruice

   Wid. It is reported,
That he has taken their great'st Commander,
And that with his owne hand he slew
The Dukes brother: we haue lost our labour,
They are gone a contrarie way: harke,
you may know by their Trumpets

   Maria. Come lets returne againe,
And suffice our selues with the report of it.
Well Diana, take heed of this French Earle,
The honor of a Maide is her name,
And no Legacie is so rich
As honestie

   Widdow. I haue told my neighbour
How you haue beene solicited by a Gentleman
His Companion

   Maria. I know that knaue, hang him, one Parolles,
a filthy Officer he is in those suggestions for the young
Earle, beware of them Diana; their promises, entisements,
oathes, tokens, and all these engines of lust, are
not the things they go vnder: many a maide hath beene
seduced by them, and the miserie is example, that so
terrible shewes in the wracke of maiden-hood, cannot
for all that disswade succession, but that they are limed
with the twigges that threatens them. I hope I neede
not to aduise you further, but I hope your owne grace
will keepe you where you are, though there were no
further danger knowne, but the modestie which is so
lost

   Dia. You shall not neede to feare me.
Enter Hellen.

  Wid. I hope so: looke here comes a pilgrim, I know
she will lye at my house, thither they send one another,
Ile question her. God saue you pilgrim, whether are
bound?
  Hel. To S[aint]. Iaques la grand.
Where do the Palmers lodge, I do beseech you?
  Wid. At the S[aint]. Francis heere beside the Port

   Hel. Is this the way?

A march afarre.

  Wid. I marrie ist. Harke you, they come this way:
If you will tarrie holy Pilgrime
But till the troopes come by,
I will conduct you where you shall be lodg'd,
The rather for I thinke I know your hostesse
As ample as my selfe

   Hel. Is it your selfe?
  Wid. If you shall please so Pilgrime

   Hel. I thanke you, and will stay vpon your leisure

   Wid. You came I thinke from France?
  Hel. I did so

   Wid. Heere you shall see a Countriman of yours
That has done worthy seruice

   Hel. His name I pray you?
  Dia. The Count Rossillion: know you such a one?
  Hel. But by the eare that heares most nobly of him:
His face I know not

   Dia. What somere he is
He's brauely taken heere. He stole from France
As 'tis reported: for the King had married him
Against his liking. Thinke you it is so?
  Hel. I surely meere the truth, I know his Lady

   Dia. There is a Gentleman that serues the Count,
Reports but coursely of her

   Hel. What's his name?
  Dia. Monsieur Parrolles

   Hel. Oh I beleeue with him,
In argument of praise, or to the worth
Of the great Count himselfe, she is too meane
To haue her name repeated, all her deseruing
Is a reserued honestie, and that
I haue not heard examin'd

   Dian. Alas poore Ladie,
'Tis a hard bondage to become the wife
Of a detesting Lord

   Wid. I write good creature, wheresoere she is,
Her hart waighes sadly: this yong maid might do her
A shrewd turne if she pleas'd

   Hel. How do you meane?
May be the amorous Count solicites her
In the vnlawfull purpose

   Wid. He does indeede,
And brokes with all that can in such a suite
Corrupt the tender honour of a Maide:
But she is arm'd for him, and keepes her guard
In honestest defence.

Drumme and Colours. Enter Count Rossillion, Parrolles, and the
whole
Armie.

  Mar. The goddes forbid else

   Wid. So, now they come:
That is Anthonio the Dukes eldest sonne,
That Escalus

   Hel. Which is the Frenchman?
  Dia. Hee,
That with the plume, 'tis a most gallant fellow,
I would he lou'd his wife: if he were honester
He were much goodlier. Is't not a handsom Gentleman
  Hel. I like him well

   Di. 'Tis pitty he is not honest: yonds that same knaue
That leades him to these places: were I his Ladie,
I would poison that vile Rascall

   Hel. Which is he?
  Dia. That Iacke-an-apes with scarfes. Why is hee
melancholly?
  Hel. Perchance he's hurt i'th battaile

   Par. Loose our drum? Well

   Mar. He's shrewdly vext at something. Looke he
has spyed vs

   Wid. Marrie hang you

   Mar. And your curtesie, for a ring-carrier.
Enter.

  Wid. The troope is past: Come pilgrim, I wil bring
you, Where you shall host: Of inioyn'd penitents
There's foure or fiue, to great S[aint]. Iaques bound,
Alreadie at my house

   Hel. I humbly thanke you:
Please it this Matron, and this gentle Maide
To eate with vs to night, the charge and thanking
Shall be for me, and to requite you further,
I will bestow some precepts of this Virgin,
Worthy the note

   Both. Wee'l take your offer kindly.

Exeunt.

Enter Count Rossillion and the Frenchmen, as at first.

  Cap.E. Nay good my Lord put him too't: let him
haue his way

   Cap.G. If your Lordshippe finde him not a Hilding,
hold me no more in your respect

   Cap.E. On my life my Lord, a bubble

   Ber. Do you thinke I am so farre
Deceiued in him

   Cap.E. Beleeue it my Lord, in mine owne direct
knowledge, without any malice, but to speake of him
as my kinsman, hee's a most notable Coward, an infinite
and endlesse Lyar, an hourely promise-breaker, the
owner of no one good qualitie, worthy your Lordships
entertainment

   Cap.G. It were fit you knew him, least reposing too
farre in his vertue which he hath not, he might at some
great and trustie businesse, in a maine daunger, fayle
you

   Ber. I would I knew in what particular action to try
him

   Cap.G. None better then to let him fetch off his
drumme, which you heare him so confidently vndertake
to do

   C.E. I with a troop of Florentines wil sodainly surprize
him; such I will haue whom I am sure he knowes
not from the enemie: wee will binde and hoodwinke
him so, that he shall suppose no other but that he is carried
into the Leager of the aduersaries, when we bring
him to our owne tents: be but your Lordship present
at his examination, if he do not for the promise of his
life, and in the highest compulsion of base feare, offer to
betray you, and deliuer all the intelligence in his power
against you, and that with the diuine forfeite of his
soule vpon oath, neuer trust my iudgement in anie
thing

   Cap.G. O for the loue of laughter, let him fetch his
drumme, he sayes he has a stratagem for't: when your
Lordship sees the bottome of this successe in't, and to
what mettle this counterfeyt lump of ours will be melted
if you giue him not Iohn drummes entertainement,
your inclining cannot be remoued. Heere he comes.
Enter Parrolles.

  Cap.E. O for the loue of laughter hinder not the honor
of his designe, let him fetch off his drumme in any
hand

   Ber. How now Monsieur? This drumme sticks sorely
in your disposition

   Cap.G. A pox on't, let it go, 'tis but a drumme

   Par. But a drumme: Ist but a drumme? A drum so
lost. There was excellent command, to charge in with
our horse vpon our owne wings, and to rend our owne
souldiers

   Cap.G. That was not to be blam'd in the command
of the seruice: it was a disaster of warre that Cæsar him
selfe could not haue preuented, if he had beene there to
command

   Ber. Well, wee cannot greatly condemne our successe:
some dishonor wee had in the losse of that drum,
but it is not to be recouered

   Par. It might haue beene recouered

   Ber. It might, but it is not now

   Par. It is to be recouered, but that the merit of seruice
is sildome attributed to the true and exact performer,
I would haue that drumme or another, or hic iacet

   Ber. Why if you haue a stomacke, too't Monsieur: if
you thinke your mysterie in stratagem, can bring this
instrument of honour againe into his natiue quarter, be
magnanimious in the enterprize and go on, I wil grace
the attempt for a worthy exploit: if you speede well in
it, the Duke shall both speake of it, and extend to you
what further becomes his greatnesse, euen to the vtmost
syllable of your worthinesse

   Par. By the hand of a souldier I will vndertake it

   Ber. But you must not now slumber in it

   Par. Ile about it this euening, and I will presently
pen downe my dilemma's, encourage my selfe in my
certaintie, put my selfe into my mortall preparation:
and by midnight looke to heare further from me

   Ber. May I bee bold to acquaint his grace you are
gone about it

   Par. I know not what the successe wil be my Lord,
but the attempt I vow

   Ber. I know th'art valiant,
And to the possibility of thy souldiership,
Will subscribe for thee: Farewell

   Par. I loue not many words.

Exit

  Cap.E. No more then a fish loues water. Is not this
a strange fellow my Lord, that so confidently seemes to
vndertake this businesse, which he knowes is not to be
done, damnes himselfe to do, & dares better be damnd
then to doo't

   Cap.G. You do not know him my Lord as we doe,
certaine it is that he will steale himselfe into a mans fauour,
and for a weeke escape a great deale of discoueries,
but when you finde him out, you haue him euer after

   Ber. Why do you thinke he will make no deede at
all of this that so seriouslie hee dooes addresse himselfe
vnto?
  Cap.E. None in the world, but returne with an inuention,
and clap vpon you two or three probable lies:
but we haue almost imbost him, you shall see his fall to
night; for indeede he is not for your Lordshippes respect

   Cap.G. Weele make you some sport with the Foxe
ere we case him. He was first smoak'd by the old Lord
Lafew, when his disguise and he is parted, tell me what
a sprat you shall finde him, which you shall see this verie
night

   Cap.E. I must go looke my twigges,
He shall be caught

   Ber. Your brother he shall go along with me

   Cap.G. As't please your Lordship, Ile leaue you

   Ber. Now wil I lead you to the house, and shew you
The Lasse I spoke of

   Cap.E. But you say she's honest

   Ber. That's all the fault: I spoke with hir but once,
And found her wondrous cold, but I sent to her
By this same Coxcombe that we haue i'th winde
Tokens and Letters, which she did resend,
And this is all I haue done: She's a faire creature,
Will you go see her?
  Cap.E. With all my heart my Lord.

Exeunt.

Enter Hellen, and Widdow.

  Hel. If you misdoubt me that I am not shee,
I know not how I shall assure you further,
But I shall loose the grounds I worke vpon

   Wid. Though my estate be falne, I was well borne,
Nothing acquainted with these businesses,
And would not put my reputation now
In any staining act

   Hel. Nor would I wish you.
First giue me trust, the Count he is my husband,
And what to your sworne counsaile I haue spoken,
Is so from word to word: and then you cannot
By the good ayde that I of you shall borrow,
Erre in bestowing it

   Wid. I should beleeue you,
For you haue shew'd me that which well approues
Y'are great in fortune

   Hel. Take this purse of Gold,
And let me buy your friendly helpe thus farre,
Which I will ouer-pay, and pay againe
When I haue found it. The Count he woes your
daughter,
Layes downe his wanton siedge before her beautie,
Resolue to carrie her: let her in fine consent
As wee'l direct her how 'tis best to beare it:
Now his important blood will naught denie,
That shee'l demand: a ring the Countie weares,
That downward hath succeeded in his house
From sonne to sonne, some foure or fiue discents,
Since the first father wore it. This Ring he holds
In most rich choice: yet in his idle fire,
To buy his will, it would not seeme too deere,
How ere repented after

   Wid. Now I see the bottome of your purpose

   Hel. You see it lawfull then, it is no more,
But that your daughter ere she seemes as wonne,
Desires this Ring; appoints him an encounter;
In fine, deliuers me to fill the time,
Her selfe most chastly absent: after
To marry her, Ile adde three thousand Crownes
To what is past already

   Wid. I haue yeelded:
Instruct my daughter how she shall perseuer,
That time and place with this deceite so lawfull
May proue coherent. Euery night he comes
With Musickes of all sorts, and songs compos'd
To her vnworthinesse: It nothing steeds vs
To chide him from our eeues, for he persists
As if his life lay on't

   Hel. Why then to night
Let vs assay our plot, which if it speed,
Is wicked meaning in a lawfull deede;
And lawfull meaning in a lawfull act,
Where both not sinne, and yet a sinfull fact.
But let's about it.

Actus Quartus.

Enter one of the Frenchmen, with fiue or sixe other souldiers in
ambush.

  Lord E. He can come no other way but by this hedge
corner: when you sallie vpon him, speake what terrible
Language you will: though you vnderstand it not your
selues, no matter: for we must not seeme to vnderstand
him, vnlesse some one among vs, whom wee must produce
for an Interpreter

   1.Sol. Good Captaine, let me be th' Interpreter

   Lor.E. Art not acquainted with him? knowes he not
thy voice?
  1.Sol. No sir I warrant you

   Lo.E. But what linsie wolsy hast thou to speake to vs
againe

   1.Sol. E'n such as you speake to me

   Lo.E. He must thinke vs some band of strangers, i'th
aduersaries entertainment. Now he hath a smacke of all
neighbouring Languages: therefore we must euery one
be a man of his owne fancie, not to know what we speak
one to another: so we seeme to know, is to know straight
our purpose: Choughs language, gabble enough, and
good enough. As for you interpreter, you must seeme
very politicke. But couch hoa, heere hee comes, to beguile
two houres in a sleepe, and then to returne & swear
the lies he forges.
Enter Parrolles.

  Par. Ten a clocke: Within these three houres 'twill
be time enough to goe home. What shall I say I haue
done? It must bee a very plausiue inuention that carries
it. They beginne to smoake mee, and disgraces haue of
late, knock'd too often at my doore: I finde my tongue
is too foole-hardie, but my heart hath the feare of Mars
before it, and of his creatures, not daring the reports of
my tongue

   Lo.E. This is the first truth that ere thine own tongue
was guiltie of

   Par. What the diuell should moue mee to vndertake
the recouerie of this drumme, being not ignorant of the
impossibility, and knowing I had no such purpose? I
must giue my selfe some hurts, and say I got them in exploit:
yet slight ones will not carrie it. They will say,
came you off with so little? And great ones I dare not
giue, wherefore what's the instance. Tongue, I must put
you into a Butter-womans mouth, and buy my selfe another
of Baiazeths Mule, if you prattle mee into these
perilles

   Lo.E. Is it possible he should know what hee is, and
be that he is

   Par. I would the cutting of my garments wold serue
the turne, or the breaking of my Spanish sword

   Lo.E. We cannot affoord you so

   Par. Or the baring of my beard, and to say it was in
stratagem

   Lo.E. 'Twould not do

   Par. Or to drowne my cloathes, and say I was stript

   Lo.E. Hardly serue

   Par. Though I swore I leapt from the window of the
Citadell

   Lo.E. How deepe?
  Par. Thirty fadome

   Lo.E. Three great oathes would scarse make that be
beleeued

   Par. I would I had any drumme of the enemies, I
would sweare I recouer'd it

   Lo.E. You shall heare one anon

   Par. A drumme now of the enemies.

Alarum within.

  Lo.E. Throca movousus, cargo, cargo, cargo

   All. Cargo, cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, cargo

   Par. O ransome, ransome,
Do not hide mine eyes

   Inter. Boskos thromuldo boskos

   Par. I know you are the Muskos Regiment,
And I shall loose my life for want of language.
If there be heere German or Dane, Low Dutch,
Italian, or French, let him speake to me,
Ile discouer that, which shal vndo the Florentine

   Int. Boskos vauvado, I vnderstand thee, & can speake
thy tongue: Kerelybonto sir, betake thee to thy faith, for
seuenteene ponyards are at thy bosome

   Par. Oh

   Inter. Oh pray, pray, pray,
Manka reuania dulche

   Lo.E. Oscorbidulchos voliuorco

   Int. The Generall is content to spare thee yet,
And hoodwinkt as thou art, will leade thee on
To gather from thee. Haply thou mayst informe
Something to saue thy life

   Par. O let me liue,
And all the secrets of our campe Ile shew,
Their force, their purposes: Nay, Ile speake that,
Which you will wonder at

   Inter. But wilt thou faithfully?
  Par. If I do not, damne me

   Inter. Acordo linta.
Come on, thou are granted space.

Exit


A short Alarum within.

  L.E. Go tell the Count Rossillion and my brother,
We haue caught the woodcocke, and will keepe him mufled
Till we do heare from them

   Sol. Captaine I will

   L.E. A will betray vs all vnto our selues,
Informe on that

   Sol. So I will sir

   L.E. Till then Ile keepe him darke and safely lockt.

Exit

Enter Bertram, and the Maide called Diana.

  Ber. They told me that your name was Fontybell

   Dia. No my good Lord, Diana

   Ber. Titled Goddesse,
And worth it with addition: but faire soule,
In your fine frame hath loue no qualitie?
If the quicke fire of youth light not your minde,
You are no Maiden but a monument
When you are dead you should be such a one
As you are now: for you are cold and sterne,
And now you should be as your mother was
When your sweet selfe was got

   Dia. She then was honest

   Ber. So should you be

   Dia. No:
My mother did but dutie, such (my Lord)
As you owe to your wife

   Ber. No more a'that:
I prethee do not striue against my vowes:
I was compell'd to her, but I loue thee
By loues owne sweet constraint, and will for euer
Do thee all rights of seruice

   Dia. I so you serue vs
Till we serue you: But when you haue our Roses,
You barely leaue our thornes to pricke our selues,
And mocke vs with our barenesse

   Ber. How haue I sworne

   Dia. Tis not the many oathes that makes the truth,
But the plaine single vow, that is vow'd true:
What is not holie, that we sweare not by,
But take the high'st to witnesse: then pray you tell me,
If I should sweare by Ioues great attributes,
I lou'd you deerely, would you beleeue my oathes,
When I did loue you ill? This ha's no holding
To sweare by him whom I protest to loue
That I will worke against him. Therefore your oathes
Are words and poore conditions, but vnseal'd
At lest in my opinion

   Ber. Change it, change it:
Be not so holy cruell: Loue is holie,
And my integritie ne're knew the crafts
That you do charge men with: Stand no more off,
But giue thy selfe vnto my sicke desires,
Who then recouers. Say thou art mine, and euer
My loue as it beginnes, shall so perseuer

   Dia. I see that men make rope's in such a scarre,
That wee'l forsake our selues. Giue me that Ring

   Ber. Ile lend it thee my deere; but haue no power
To giue it from me

   Dia. Will you not my Lord?
  Ber. It is an honour longing to our house,
Bequeathed downe from manie Ancestors,
Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
In me to loose

   Dian. Mine Honors such a Ring,
My chastities the Iewell of our house,
Bequeathed downe from many Ancestors,
Which were the greatest obloquie i'th world,
In mee to loose. Thus your owne proper wisedome
Brings in the Champion honor on my part,
Against your vaine assault

   Ber. Heere, take my Ring,
My house, mine honor, yea my life be thine,
And Ile be bid by thee

   Dia. When midnight comes, knocke at my chamber
window:
Ile order take, my mother shall not heare.
Now will I charge you in the band of truth,
When you haue conquer'd my yet maiden-bed,
Remaine there but an houre, nor speake to mee:
My reasons are most strong, and you shall know them,
When backe againe this Ring shall be deliuer'd:
And on your finger in the night, Ile put
Another Ring, that what in time proceeds,
May token to the future, our past deeds.
Adieu till then, then faile not: you haue wonne
A wife of me, though there my hope be done

   Ber. A heauen on earth I haue won by wooing thee

   Di. For which, liue long to thank both heauen & me,
You may so in the end.
My mother told me iust how he would woo,
As if she sate in's heart. She sayes, all men
Haue the like oathes: He had sworne to marrie me
When his wife's dead: therfore Ile lye with him
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so braide,
Marry that will, I liue and die a Maid:
Onely in this disguise, I think't no sinne,
To cosen him that would vniustly winne.

Exit

Enter the two French Captaines, and some two or three Souldiours.

  Cap.G. You haue not giuen him his mothers letter

   Cap.E. I haue deliu'red it an houre since, there is som
thing in't that stings his nature: for on the reading it,
he chang'd almost into another man

   Cap.G. He has much worthy blame laid vpon him,
for shaking off so good a wife, and so sweet a Lady

   Cap.E. Especially, hee hath incurred the euerlasting
displeasure of the King, who had euen tun'd his bounty
to sing happinesse to him. I will tell you a thing, but
you shall let it dwell darkly with you

   Cap.G. When you haue spoken it 'tis dead, and I am
the graue of it

   Cap.E. Hee hath peruerted a young Gentlewoman
heere in Florence, of a most chaste renown, & this night
he fleshes his will in the spoyle of her honour: hee hath
giuen her his monumentall Ring, and thinkes himselfe
made in the vnchaste composition

   Cap.G. Now God delay our rebellion as we are our
selues, what things are we

   Cap.E. Meerely our owne traitours. And as in the
common course of all treasons, we still see them reueale
themselues, till they attaine to their abhorr'd ends: so
he that in this action contriues against his owne Nobility
in his proper streame, ore-flowes himselfe

   Cap.G. Is it not meant damnable in vs, to be Trumpeters
of our vnlawfull intents? We shall not then haue
his company to night?
  Cap.E. Not till after midnight: for hee is dieted to
his houre

   Cap.G. That approaches apace: I would gladly haue
him see his company anathomiz'd, that hee might take
a measure of his owne iudgements, wherein so curiously
he had set this counterfeit

   Cap.E. We will not meddle with him till he come;
for his presence must be the whip of the other

   Cap.G. In the meane time, what heare you of these
Warres?
  Cap.E. I heare there is an ouerture of peace

   Cap.G. Nay, I assure you a peace concluded

   Cap.E. What will Count Rossillion do then? Will he
trauaile higher, or returne againe into France?
  Cap.G. I perceiue by this demand, you are not altogether
of his councell

   Cap.E. Let it be forbid sir, so should I bee a great
deale of his act

   Cap.G. Sir, his wife some two months since fledde
from his house, her pretence is a pilgrimage to Saint Iaques
le grand; which holy vndertaking, with most austere
sanctimonie she accomplisht: and there residing,
the tendernesse of her Nature, became as a prey to her
greefe: in fine, made a groane of her last breath, & now
she sings in heauen

   Cap.E. How is this iustified?
  Cap.G. The stronger part of it by her owne Letters,
which makes her storie true, euen to the poynt of her
death: her death it selfe, which could not be her office
to say, is come: was faithfully confirm'd by the Rector
of the place

   Cap.E. Hath the Count all this intelligence?
  Cap.G. I, and the particular confirmations, point
from point, to the full arming of the veritie

   Cap.E. I am heartily sorrie that hee'l bee gladde of
this

   Cap.G. How mightily sometimes, we make vs comforts
of our losses

   Cap.E. And how mightily some other times, wee
drowne our gaine in teares, the great dignitie that his
valour hath here acquir'd for him, shall at home be encountred
with a shame as ample

   Cap.G. The webbe of our life, is of a mingled yarne,
good and ill together: our vertues would bee proud, if
our faults whipt them not, and our crimes would dispaire
if they were not cherish'd by our vertues.
Enter a Messenger.

How now? Where's your master?
  Ser. He met the Duke in the street sir, of whom hee
hath taken a solemne leaue: his Lordshippe will next
morning for France. The Duke hath offered him Letters
of commendations to the King

   Cap.E. They shall bee no more then needfull there,
if they were more then they can commend.
Enter Count Rossillion.

  Ber. They cannot be too sweete for the Kings tartnesse,
heere's his Lordship now. How now my Lord,
i'st not after midnight?
  Ber. I haue to night dispatch'd sixteene businesses, a
moneths length a peece, by an abstract of successe: I
haue congied with the Duke, done my adieu with his
neerest; buried a wife, mourn'd for her, writ to my Ladie
mother, I am returning, entertain'd my Conuoy, &
betweene these maine parcels of dispatch, affected many
nicer needs: the last was the greatest, but that I haue
not ended yet

   Cap.E. If the businesse bee of any difficulty, and this
morning your departure hence, it requires hast of your
Lordship

   Ber. I meane the businesse is not ended, as fearing
to heare of it hereafter: but shall we haue this dialogue
betweene the Foole and the Soldiour. Come, bring
forth this counterfet module, ha's deceiu'd mee, like a
double-meaning Prophesier

   Cap.E. Bring him forth, ha's sate i'th stockes all night
poore gallant knaue

   Ber. No matter, his heeles haue deseru'd it, in vsurping
his spurres so long. How does he carry himselfe?
  Cap.E. I haue told your Lordship alreadie: The
stockes carrie him. But to answer you as you would be
vnderstood, hee weepes like a wench that had shed her
milke, he hath confest himselfe to Morgan, whom hee
supposes to be a Friar, fro[m] the time of his remembrance
to this very instant disaster of his setting i'th stockes:
and what thinke you he hath confest?
  Ber. Nothing of me, ha's a?
  Cap.E. His confession is taken, and it shall bee read
to his face, if your Lordshippe be in't, as I beleeue you
are, you must haue the patience to heare it.
Enter Parolles with his Interpreter.

  Ber. A plague vpon him, muffeld; he can say nothing
of me: hush, hush

   Cap.G. Hoodman comes: Portotartarossa

   Inter. He calles for the tortures, what will you say
without em

   Par. I will confesse what I know without constraint,
If ye pinch me like a Pasty, I can say no more

   Int. Bosko Chimurcho

   Cap. Boblibindo chicurmurco

   Int. You are a mercifull Generall: Our Generall
bids you answer to what I shall aske you out of a Note

   Par. And truly, as I hope to liue

   Int. First demand of him, how many horse the Duke
is strong. What say you to that?
  Par. Fiue or sixe thousand, but very weake and vnseruiceable:
the troopes are all scattered, and the Commanders
verie poore rogues, vpon my reputation and
credit, and as I hope to liue

   Int. Shall I set downe your answer so?
  Par. Do, Ile take the Sacrament on't, how & which
way you will: all's one to him

   Ber. What a past-sauing slaue is this?
  Cap.G. Y'are deceiu'd my Lord, this is Mounsieur
Parrolles the gallant militarist, that was his owne phrase
that had the whole theoricke of warre in the knot of his
scarfe, and the practise in the chape of his dagger

   Cap.E. I will neuer trust a man againe, for keeping
his sword cleane, nor beleeue he can haue euerie thing
in him, by wearing his apparrell neatly

   Int. Well, that's set downe

   Par. Fiue or six thousand horse I sed, I will say true,
or thereabouts set downe, for Ile speake truth

   Cap.G. He's very neere the truth in this

   Ber. But I con him no thankes for't in the nature he
deliuers it

   Par. Poore rogues, I pray you say

   Int. Well, that's set downe

   Par. I humbly thanke you sir, a truth's a truth, the
Rogues are maruailous poore

   Interp. Demaund of him of what strength they are a
foot. What say you to that?
  Par. By my troth sir, if I were to liue this present
houre, I will tell true. Let me see, Spurio a hundred &
fiftie, Sebastian so many, Corambus so many, Iaques so
many: Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowicke, and Gratij, two hundred
fiftie each: Mine owne Company, Chitopher, Vaumond,
Bentij, two hundred fiftie each: so that the muster
file, rotten and sound, vppon my life amounts not to fifteene
thousand pole, halfe of the which, dare not shake
the snow from off their Cassockes, least they shake themselues
to peeces

   Ber. What shall be done to him?
  Cap.G. Nothing, but let him haue thankes. Demand
of him my condition: and what credite I haue with the
Duke

   Int. Well that's set downe: you shall demaund of
him, whether one Captaine Dumaine bee i'th Campe, a
Frenchman: what his reputation is with the Duke, what
his valour, honestie, and expertnesse in warres: or whether
he thinkes it were not possible with well-waighing
summes of gold to corrupt him to a reuolt. What say you
to this? What do you know of it?
  Par. I beseech you let me answer to the particular of
the intergatories. Demand them singly

   Int. Do you know this Captaine Dumaine?
  Par. I know him, a was a Botchers Prentize in Paris,
from whence he was whipt for getting the Shrieues fool
with childe, a dumbe innocent that could not say him
nay

   Ber. Nay, by your leaue hold your hands, though I
know his braines are forfeite to the next tile that fals

   Int. Well, is this Captaine in the Duke of Florences
campe?
  Par. Vpon my knowledge he is, and lowsie

   Cap.G. Nay looke not so vpon me: we shall heare of
your Lord anon

   Int. What is his reputation with the Duke?
  Par. The Duke knowes him for no other, but a poore
Officer of mine, and writ to mee this other day, to turne
him out a'th band. I thinke I haue his Letter in my pocket

   Int. Marry we'll search

   Par. In good sadnesse I do not know, either it is there,
or it is vpon a file with the Dukes other Letters, in my
Tent

   Int. Heere 'tis, heere's a paper, shall I reade it to you?
  Par. I do not know if it be it or no

   Ber. Our Interpreter do's it well

   Cap.G. Excellently

   Int. Dian, the Counts a foole, and full of gold

   Par. That is not the Dukes letter sir: that is an aduertisement
to a proper maide in Florence, one Diana, to
take heede of the allurement of one Count Rossillion, a
foolish idle boy: but for all that very ruttish. I pray you
sir put it vp againe

   Int. Nay, Ile reade it first by your fauour

   Par. My meaning in't I protest was very honest in the
behalfe of the maid: for I knew the young Count to be a
dangerous and lasciuious boy, who is a whale to Virginity,
and deuours vp all the fry it finds

   Ber. Damnable both-sides rogue

   Int.

Let.

When he sweares oathes, bid him drop gold, and
take it:
After he scores, he neuer payes the score:
Halfe won is match well made, match and well make it,
He nere payes after-debts, take it before,
And say a souldier (Dian) told thee this:
Men are to mell with, boyes are not to kis.
For count of this, the Counts a Foole I know it,
Who payes before, but not when he does owe it.
Thine as he vow'd to thee in thine eare,
Parolles

   Ber. He shall be whipt through the Armie with this
rime in's forehead

   Cap.E. This is your deuoted friend sir, the manifold
Linguist, and the army-potent souldier

   Ber. I could endure any thing before but a Cat, and
now he's a Cat to me

   Int. I perceiue sir by your Generals lookes, wee shall
be faine to hang you

   Par. My life sir in any case: Not that I am afraide to
dye, but that my offences beeing many, I would repent
out the remainder of Nature. Let me liue sir in a dungeon,
i'th stockes, or any where, so I may liue

   Int. Wee'le see what may bee done, so you confesse
freely: therefore once more to this Captaine Dumaine:
you haue answer'd to his reputation with the Duke, and
to his valour. What is his honestie?
  Par. He will steale sir an Egge out of a Cloister: for
rapes and rauishments he paralels Nessus. Hee professes
not keeping of oaths, in breaking em he is stronger then
Hercules. He will lye sir, with such volubilitie, that you
would thinke truth were a foole: drunkennesse is his best
vertue, for he will be swine-drunke, and in his sleepe he
does little harme, saue to his bed-cloathes about him:
but they know his conditions, and lay him in straw. I
haue but little more to say sir of his honesty, he ha's euerie
thing that an honest man should not haue; what an
honest man should haue, he has nothing

   Cap.G. I begin to loue him for this

   Ber. For this description of thine honestie? A pox
vpon him for me, he's more and more a Cat

   Int. What say you to his expertnesse in warre?
  Par. Faith sir, ha's led the drumme before the English
Tragedians: to belye him I will not, and more of his
souldiership I know not, except in that Country, he had
the honour to be the Officer at a place there called Mile-end,
to instruct for the doubling of files. I would doe the
man what honour I can, but of this I am not certaine

   Cap.G. He hath out-villain'd villanie so farre, that the
raritie redeemes him

   Ber. A pox on him, he's a Cat still

   Int. His qualities being at this poore price, I neede
not to aske you, if Gold will corrupt him to reuolt

   Par. Sir, for a Cardceue he will sell the fee-simple of
his saluation, the inheritance of it, and cut th' intaile from
all remainders, and a perpetuall succession for it perpetually

   Int. What's his Brother, the other Captain Dumain?
  Cap.E. Why do's he aske him of me?
  Int. What's he?
  Par. E'ne a Crow a'th same nest: not altogether so
great as the first in goodnesse, but greater a great deale in
euill. He excels his Brother for a coward, yet his Brother
is reputed one of the best that is. In a retreate hee outrunnes
any Lackey; marrie in comming on, hee ha's the
Crampe

   Int. If your life be saued, will you vndertake to betray
the Florentine

   Par. I, and the Captaine of his horse, Count Rossillion

   Int. Ile whisper with the Generall, and knowe his
pleasure

   Par. Ile no more drumming, a plague of all drummes,
onely to seeme to deserue well, and to beguile the supposition
of that lasciuious yong boy the Count, haue I run
into this danger: yet who would haue suspected an ambush
where I was taken?
  Int. There is no remedy sir, but you must dye: the
Generall sayes, you that haue so traitorously discouerd
the secrets of your army, and made such pestifferous reports
of men very nobly held, can serue the world for
no honest vse: therefore you must dye. Come headesman,
off with his head

   Par. O Lord sir let me liue, or let me see my death

   Int. That shall you, and take your leaue of all your
friends:
So, looke about you, know you any heere?
  Count. Good morrow noble Captaine

   Lo.E. God blesse you Captaine Parolles

   Cap.G. God saue you noble Captaine

   Lo.E. Captain, what greeting will you to my Lord
Lafew? I am for France

   Cap.G. Good Captaine will you giue me a Copy of
the sonnet you writ to Diana in behalfe of the Count
Rossillion, and I were not a verie Coward, I'de compell
it of you, but far you well.

Exeunt.

  Int. You are vndone Captaine all but your scarfe,
that has a knot on't yet

   Par. Who cannot be crush'd with a plot?
  Inter. If you could finde out a Countrie where but
women were that had receiued so much shame, you
might begin an impudent Nation. Fare yee well sir, I
am for France too, we shall speake of you there.

Exit

  Par. Yet am I thankfull: if my heart were great
'Twould burst at this: Captaine Ile be no more,
But I will eate, and drinke, and sleepe as soft
As Captaine shall. Simply the thing I am
Shall make me liue: who knowes himselfe a braggart
Let him feare this; for it will come to passe,
That euery braggart shall be found an Asse.
Rust sword, coole blushes, and Parrolles liue
Safest in shame: being fool'd, by fool'rie thriue;
There's place and meanes for euery man aliue.
Ile after them.
Enter.

Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana.

  Hel. That you may well perceiue I haue not
wrong'd you,
One of the greatest in the Christian world
Shall be my suretie: for whose throne 'tis needfull
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneele.
Time was, I did him a desired office
Deere almost as his life, which gratitude
Through flintie Tartars bosome would peepe forth,
And answer thankes. I duly am inform'd,
His grace is at Marcellae, to which place
We haue conuenient conuoy: you must know
I am supposed dead, the Army breaking,
My husband hies him home, where heauen ayding,
And by the leaue of my good Lord the King,
Wee'l be before our welcome

   Wid. Gentle Madam,
You neuer had a seruant to whose trust
Your busines was more welcome

   Hel. Nor your Mistris
Euer a friend, whose thoughts more truly labour
To recompence your loue: Doubt not but heauen
Hath brought me vp to be your daughters dower,
As it hath fated her to be my motiue
And helper to a husband. But O strange men,
That can such sweet vse make of what they hate,
When sawcie trusting of the cosin'd thoughts
Defiles the pitchy night, so lust doth play
With what it loathes, for that which is away,
But more of this heereafter: you Diana,
Vnder my poore instructions yet must suffer
Something in my behalfe

   Dia. Let death and honestie
Go with your impositions, I am yours
Vpon your will to suffer

   Hel. Yet I pray you:
But with the word the time will bring on summer,
When Briars shall haue leaues as well as thornes,
And be as sweet as sharpe: we must away,
Our Wagon is prepar'd, and time reuiues vs,
All's well that ends well, still the fines the Crowne;
What ere the course, the end is the renowne.

Exeunt.

Enter Clowne, old Lady, and Lafew.

  Laf. No, no, no, your sonne was misled with a snipt
taffata fellow there, whose villanous saffron wold haue
made all the vnbak'd and dowy youth of a nation in his
colour: your daughter-in-law had beene aliue at this
houre, and your sonne heere at home, more aduanc'd
by the King, then by that red-tail'd humble Bee I speak
of

   La. I would I had not knowne him, it was the death
of the most vertuous gentlewoman, that euer Nature
had praise for creating. If she had pertaken of my flesh
and cost mee the deerest groanes of a mother, I could
not haue owed her a more rooted loue

   Laf. Twas a good Lady, 'twas a good Lady. Wee
may picke a thousand sallets ere wee light on such another
hearbe

   Clo. Indeed sir she was the sweete Margerom of the
sallet, or rather the hearbe of grace

   Laf. They are not hearbes you knaue, they are nose-hearbes

   Clowne. I am no great Nabuchadnezar sir, I haue not
much skill in grace

   Laf. Whether doest thou professe thy selfe, a knaue
or a foole?
  Clo. A foole sir at a womans seruice, and a knaue at a
mans

   Laf. Your distinction

   Clo. I would cousen the man of his wife, and do his
seruice

   Laf. So you were a knaue at his seruice indeed

   Clo. And I would giue his wife my bauble sir to doe
her seruice

   Laf. I will subscribe for thee, thou art both knaue
and foole

   Clo. At your seruice

   Laf. No, no, no

   Clo. Why sir, if I cannot serue you, I can serue as
great a prince as you are

   Laf. Whose that, a Frenchman?
  Clo. Faith sir a has an English maine, but his fisnomie
is more hotter in France then there

   Laf. What prince is that?
  Clo. The blacke prince sir, alias the prince of darkenesse,
alias the diuell

   Laf. Hold thee there's my purse, I giue thee not this
to suggest thee from thy master thou talk'st off, serue
him still

   Clo. I am a woodland fellow sir, that alwaies loued
a great fire, and the master I speak of euer keeps a good
fire, but sure he is the Prince of the world, let his Nobilitie
remaine in's Court. I am for the house with the
narrow gate, which I take to be too little for pompe to
enter: some that humble themselues may, but the manie
will be too chill and tender, and theyle bee for the
flowrie way that leads to the broad gate, and the great
fire

   Laf. Go thy waies, I begin to bee a wearie of thee,
and I tell thee so before, because I would not fall out
with thee. Go thy wayes, let my horses be wel look'd
too, without any trickes

   Clo. If I put any trickes vpon em sir, they shall bee
Iades trickes, which are their owne right by the law of
Nature.

Exit

  Laf. A shrewd knaue and an vnhappie

   Lady. So a is. My Lord that's gone made himselfe
much sport out of him, by his authoritie hee remaines
heere, which he thinkes is a pattent for his sawcinesse,
and indeede he has no pace, but runnes where he will

   Laf. I like him well, 'tis not amisse: and I was about
to tell you, since I heard of the good Ladies death, and
that my Lord your sonne was vpon his returne home. I
moued the King my master to speake in the behalfe of
my daughter, which in the minoritie of them both, his
Maiestie out of a selfe gracious remembrance did first
propose, his Highnesse hath promis'd me to doe it, and
to stoppe vp the displeasure he hath conceiued against
your sonne, there is no fitter matter. How do's your
Ladyship like it?
  La. With verie much content my Lord, and I wish
it happily effected

   Laf. His Highnesse comes post from Marcellus, of as
able bodie as when he number'd thirty, a will be heere
to morrow, or I am deceiu'd by him that in such intelligence
hath seldome fail'd

   La. It reioyces me, that I hope I shall see him ere I
die. I haue letters that my sonne will be heere to night:
I shall beseech your Lordship to remaine with mee, till
they meete together

   Laf. Madam, I was thinking with what manners I
might safely be admitted

   Lad. You neede but pleade your honourable priuiledge

   Laf. Ladie, of that I haue made a bold charter, but
I thanke my God, it holds yet.
Enter Clowne.

  Clo. O Madam, yonders my Lord your sonne with
a patch of veluet on's face, whether there bee a scar vnder't
or no, the Veluet knowes, but 'tis a goodly patch
of Veluet, his left cheeke is a cheeke of two pile and a
halfe, but his right cheeke is worne bare

   Laf. A scarre nobly got,
Or a noble scarre, is a good liu'rie of honor,
So belike is that

   Clo. But it is your carbinado'd face

   Laf. Let vs go see
your sonne I pray you, I long to talke
With the yong noble souldier

   Clowne. 'Faith there's a dozen of em, with delicate
fine hats, and most courteous feathers, which bow the
head, and nod at euerie man.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Hellen, Widdow, and Diana, with two Attendants.

  Hel. But this exceeding posting day and night,
Must wear your spirits low, we cannot helpe it:
But since you haue made the daies and nights as one,
To weare your gentle limbes in my affayres,
Be bold you do so grow in my requitall,
As nothing can vnroote you. In happie time,
Enter a gentle Astringer.

This man may helpe me to his Maiesties eare,
If he would spend his power. God saue you sir

   Gent. And you

   Hel. Sir, I haue seene you in the Court of France

   Gent. I haue beene sometimes there

   Hel. I do presume sir, that you are not falne
From the report that goes vpon your goodnesse,
And therefore goaded with most sharpe occasions,
Which lay nice manners by, I put you to
The vse of your owne vertues, for the which
I shall continue thankefull

   Gent. What's your will?
  Hel. That it will please you
To giue this poore petition to the King,
And ayde me with that store of power you haue
To come into his presence

   Gen. The Kings not heere

   Hel. Not heere sir?
  Gen. Not indeed,
He hence remou'd last night, and with more hast
Then is his vse

   Wid. Lord how we loose our paines

   Hel. All's well that ends well yet,
Though time seeme so aduerse, and meanes vnfit:
I do beseech you, whither is he gone?
  Gent. Marrie as I take it to Rossillion,
Whither I am going

   Hel. I do beseech you sir,
Since you are like to see the King before me,
Commend the paper to his gracious hand,
Which I presume shall render you no blame,
But rather make you thanke your paines for it,
I will come after you with what good speede
Our meanes will make vs meanes

   Gent. This Ile do for you

   Hel. And you shall finde your selfe to be well thankt
what e're falles more. We must to horse againe, Go, go,
prouide.
Enter Clowne and Parrolles.

  Par. Good Mr Lauatch giue my Lord Lafew this letter,
I haue ere now sir beene better knowne to you, when
I haue held familiaritie with fresher cloathes: but I am
now sir muddied in fortunes mood, and smell somewhat
strong of her strong displeasure

   Clo. Truely, Fortunes displeasure is but sluttish if it
smell so strongly as thou speak'st of: I will hencefoorth
eate no Fish of Fortunes butt'ring. Prethee alow the
winde

   Par. Nay you neede not to stop your nose sir: I spake
but by a Metaphor

   Clo. Indeed sir, if your Metaphor stinke, I will stop
my nose, or against any mans Metaphor. Prethe get thee
further

   Par. Pray you sir deliuer me this paper

   Clo. Foh, prethee stand away: a paper from fortunes
close-stoole, to giue to a Nobleman. Looke heere he
comes himselfe.
Enter Lafew.

  Clo. Heere is a purre of Fortunes sir, or of Fortunes
Cat, but not a Muscat, that ha's falne into the vncleane
fish-pond of her displeasure, and as he sayes is muddied
withall. Pray you sir, vse the Carpe as you may, for he
lookes like a poore decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally
knaue. I doe pittie his distresse in my smiles of comfort,
and leaue him to your Lordship

   Par. My Lord I am a man whom fortune hath cruelly
scratch'd

   Laf. And what would you haue me to doe? 'Tis too
late to paire her nailes now. Wherein haue you played
the knaue with fortune that she should scratch you, who
of her selfe is a good Lady, and would not haue knaues
thriue long vnder? There's a Cardecue for you: Let the
Iustices make you and fortune friends; I am for other
businesse

   Par. I beseech your honour to heare mee one single
word,
  Laf. you begge a single peny more: Come you shall
ha't, saue your word

   Par. My name my good Lord is Parrolles

   Laf. You begge more then word then. Cox my passion,
giue me your hand: How does your drumme?
  Par. O my good Lord, you were the first that found
mee

   Laf. Was I insooth? And I was the first that lost thee

   Par. It lies in you my Lord to bring me in some grace
for you did bring me out

   Laf. Out vpon thee knaue, doest thou put vpon mee
at once both the office of God and the diuel: one brings
thee in grace, and the other brings thee out. The Kings
comming I know by his Trumpets. Sirrah, inquire further
after me, I had talke of you last night, though you
are a foole and a knaue, you shall eate, go too, follow

   Par. I praise God for you.

Flourish. Enter King, old Lady, Lafew, the two French Lords, with
attendants.

  Kin. We lost a Iewell of her, and our esteeme
Was made much poorer by it: but your sonne,
As mad in folly, lack'd the sence to know
Her estimation home

   Old La. 'Tis past my Liege,
And I beseech your Maiestie to make it
Naturall rebellion, done i'th blade of youth,
When oyle and fire, too strong for reasons force,
Ore-beares it, and burnes on

   Kin. My honour'd Lady,
I haue forgiuen and forgotten all,
Though my reuenges were high bent vpon him,
And watch'd the time to shoote

   Laf. This I must say,
But first I begge my pardon: the yong Lord
Did to his Maiesty, his Mother, and his Ladie,
Offence of mighty note; but to himselfe
The greatest wrong of all. He lost a wife,
Whose beauty did astonish the suruey
Of richest eies: whose words all eares tooke captiue,
Whose deere perfection, hearts that scorn'd to serue,
Humbly call'd Mistris

   Kin. Praising what is lost,
Makes the remembrance deere. Well, call him hither,
We are reconcil'd, and the first view shall kill
All repetition: Let him not aske our pardon,
The nature of his great offence is dead,
And deeper then obliuion, we do burie
Th' incensing reliques of it. Let him approach
A stranger, no offender; and informe him
So 'tis our will he should

   Gent. I shall my Liege

   Kin. What sayes he to your daughter,
Haue you spoke?
  Laf. All that he is, hath reference to your Highnes

   Kin. Then shall we haue a match. I haue letters sent
me, that sets him high in fame.
Enter Count Bertram.

  Laf. He lookes well on't

   Kin. I am not a day of season,
For thou maist see a sun-shine, and a haile
In me at once: But to the brightest beames
Distracted clouds giue way, so stand thou forth,
The time is faire againe

   Ber. My high repented blames
Deere Soueraigne pardon to me

   Kin. All is whole,
Not one word more of the consumed time,
Let's take the instant by the forward top:
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees
Th' inaudible, and noiselesse foot of time
Steales, ere we can effect them. You remember
The daughter of this Lord?
  Ber. Admiringly my Liege, at first
I stucke my choice vpon her, ere my heart
Durst make too bold a herauld of my tongue:
Where the impression of mine eye enfixing,
Contempt his scornfull Perspectiue did lend me,
Which warpt the line, of euerie other fauour,
Scorn'd a faire colour, or exprest it stolne,
Extended or contracted all proportions
To a most hideous obiect. Thence it came,
That she whom all men prais'd, and whom my selfe,
Since I haue lost, haue lou'd; was in mine eye
The dust that did offend it

   Kin. Well excus'd:
That thou didst loue her, strikes some scores away
From the great compt: but loue that comes too late,
Like a remorsefull pardon slowly carried
To the great sender, turnes a sowre offence,
Crying, that's good that's gone: Our rash faults,
Make triuiall price of serious things we haue,
Not knowing them, vntill we know their graue.
Oft our displeasures to our selues vniust,
Destroy our friends, and after weepe their dust:
Our owne loue waking, cries to see what's done,
While shamefull hate sleepes out the afternoone.
Be this sweet Helens knell, and now forget her.
Send forth your amorous token for faire Maudlin,
The maine consents are had, and heere wee'l stay
To see our widdowers second marriage day:
Which better then the first, O deere heauen blesse,
Or, ere they meete in me, O Nature cesse