infliction
That kill'd the Prince of Orange, will be sport
To what we purpose.

Liv.   Let me feel the heaviest.

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

Liv.   I swear.

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

Liv.   I do swear it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

By.   Be wary as you come.

Liv.   I warrant ye. [Exeunt.

Scæna Tertia.

Enter three Maids.

1 Mai.   How goes your business Girls?

2.   A foot, and fair.

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

1.   Arm, and be valiant.

2.   Think of our cause.

3.   Our Justice.

1.   'Tis sufficient. [Exeunt.

Scæna Quarta.

Enter Rowland and Tranio at several doors.

Tra.   Now Rowland?

Row.   How doe you?

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

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

Tra.   A woman.

Row.   So. Were they not well acquainted?

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

Row.   He sold her fruit, I take it?

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

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

Tra.   That's a School-question

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

Tra.   How dost thou Rowland?

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

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

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

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

Row.   She was my Mistriss.

Tra.   Is she not?

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

Tra.   I will Rowland.

Row.   She may sooner
Count the good I have thought her,
Our old love and our friendship,
Shed one true tear, mean one hour constantly,
Be