mercy, do you command too?

Mar.   Yes marry does she, and in chief.

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

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

Petro.   Thou wilt not, wilt'a?

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

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

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

Petru.   I would I heard it not, Sir.

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

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

Mar.   Hope still, Sir.

Petron.   You will come down I am sure.

Mar.   I am sure I will not.

Petron.   I'll fetch you then.

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

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

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

Mar.   'Tis so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bya.   No, you shall carry it, Sir.

Petru.   Peace gentle Low-bel.

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

Petru.   Prethee come Maria, I forgive all.

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

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

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

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

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

Petru.   Why give me leave, I will.

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

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

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

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

Petru.   Yes.

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

Petru.   Well, what remedy?

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

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

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

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

Soph.   Thou Boy thou.

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

Mar.   Yes, and more men than Michael.

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

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

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

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

Mar.   And we appear like her that sent us hither,
That only excellent and beauteous nature;
Truly our selves