old and honest, married, and a maid,
Than make me see her more, or more believe her:
And now I have met a messenger, farewel Sir. [Exit.

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

Scæna Quinta.

Enter Petruchio, Petronius, Moroso, and Sophocles.

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

Petro.   I think not.

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

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

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

Mor.   Give her a few conditions.

Petru.   I'll be hanged first.

Petron.   Give her a Crab-tree Cudgel.

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

Soph.   This must not be.

Enter Jaques.

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

Enter Pedro.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Petru.   Come to council.

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

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

Soph.   Why do you tremble?

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

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

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