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To shift his sails too; 'tis for his more ad

vancement:

Alas, we might have beggar'd one another; We are young both, and a world of children Might have been left behind to curse our follies;

We had been undone, Bianca, had we married,
Undone for ever. I confess I lov'd him
(I care not who shall know it) most entirely;
And once, upon my conscience, he lov'd me:
But farewell that! we must be wiser, cousin;
Love must not leave us to the world. Have
you done?

Roel. Yes, and am ready to subscribe.
Livia. Pray stay then.

Give me the papers, (and let me peruse them)
And so much time as may afford a tear

At our last parting.

Bianca. Pray retire, and leave her;

I'll call ye presently.

Petron. Come, gentlemen;

The shower must fall.

Rowl. 'Would I had never seen her!

[Exeunt. Bianca. Thou hast done bravely, wench. Livia. Pray Heav'n, it prove so! Bunca. There are the other papers: when they come,

Begin you first, and let the rest subscribe
Hard by your side; give 'em as little light
As drapers do their wares.

Livia. Didst mark Moroso,

[most

In what an agony he was? and how he cried When I abus'd him most?

Bianca. That was but reason.

Livia. Oh, what a stinking thief is this! Tho' I was but to counterfeit, he made me Directly sick indeed: Thames-street, to him, Is a mere pomander.

Bianca. Let him be hang'd!

Livia. Amen!

Bianca. And lie you still;

And once more to your business!
Licia. Call 'em in.

Now, if there be a power that pities lovers,
Help now, and hear my prayers!

Enter Petronius, Rowland, Tranio, and Moroso.

[go to her.

Petron. Is she ready? Bianca. Sh'has doue her lamentations: pray Livia. Rowland, come near me; and, before you seal, [me!

Give me your hand: take it again; now kiss
This is the last acquaintance we must have!
I wish you ever happy! There's the paper,
Rowl. Pray stay a little!

Petron. Let me never live more,
But I do begin to pity this young fellow;
How heartily he weeps!

Bianca. There's pen and ink, sir.

Livia. Ev'n here, I pray you: 'tis a little emblem.

How near you have been to me.

Rowl. There.

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Pedro. To have the sea between thee and

Nothing can drown her tongue but a storm.
Juques. By your leave,

We'll get us up to Paris with all speed;
For, on my soul, as far as Amiens
She'll blank. Away to Lyon-key,
carry
And ship 'em presently! we'll follow ye.
Pedro. Now could I wish her in that trunk.
Jaques. God shield, man!

I had rather have a bear in't.
Pedro. Yes, I'll tell you:

For in the passage, if a tempest take you,
As many do, and you lie beating for it,
Then, if it pleas'd the fates, I would have

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For none would keep her company but dogfish,

As currish as herself, or porpoises,
Made to all fatal uses: the two Fish-Streets,
Were she but once arriv'd among the whitings,
Would sing a woful misereri, Pedro,
And mourn in Poor-John, till her memory
Were cast o' shore again, with a strong sea-
breach;
[fork,

She would make god Neptune, and his fire-
And all his demi-gods and goddesses,
As weary of the Flemish channel, Pedro,
As ever boy was of the school; 'tis certain,
If she but meet him fair, and were well anger'd,
She would break his god-head.

Pedro. Oh, her tongue, her tongue!
Jaques. Rather her many tongues!
Pedro. Or rather strange tongues!
Jaques. Her lying tongue!
Pedro. Her lisping tongue!
Jaques. Her long tongue!
Pedro. Her lawless tongue!
Jaques. Her loud tongue!
Pedro. And her liquorish-

Jaques. Many other tongues, and many stranger tongues

Than ever Babel had to tell his ruins,
Were women rais'd withal; but ne'er a true

one.

Enter Sophocles.

Soph. Home with your stuff again! the journey's ended.

Jaques. What does your worship mean? Soph. Your master-Oh, Petruchio! Oh, poor fellows!

Pedro. Oh, Jaques, Jaques!

Soph. Oh, your master's dead,

His body coming back! His wife, his devil, The grief of her 36-

Jaques. Has kill'd him?

Soph. Kill'd him, kill'd him!

Pedro. Is there no law to hang her?
Soph. Get ye in,

And let her know her misery: I dare not,

For fear impatience seize me, see her more;
I must away again. Bid her for wife-hood,
For honesty, if she have any in ber,
E'en to avoid the shame that follows her,
Cry if she can. Your weeping cannot mend
[tell her)

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The body will be here within this hour, (so And all his friends to curse her. Farewell,

fellows!

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[Exit.

[her

Pedro. Oh, my most beastly mistress! Hang

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Rowl. What a dull ass was I to let her go
thus!
[paper,
Upon my life, she loves me still. Well,
Thou only monument of what I've had,
Thou all the love now left me, and now lost,
Let me yet kiss her hand, yet take my leave
Of what I must leave ever. Farewell, Livia!
Oh, bitter words, I'll read ye once again,
And then for ever study to forget ye.-
How's this? let me look better on't! A
contract?

By Heaven, a contract, seal'd and ratified,
Her father's hand set to it, and Moroso's!
I do not dream sure! Let me read again:
The same still; 'tis a contract!

Tra. "Tis so, Rowland;

And, by the virtue of the same, you pay me An hundred pound to-morrow.

Rowl. Art sure, Tranio,

We're both alive now?

Tra. Wonder not; you've lost.
Rowl. If this be true, I grant it.

Tra. 'Tis most certain!

There's a ring for you too; you know it?
Kowl. Yes.

Tra. When shall I have my money?
Rowl. Stay you, stay you!

When shall I

marry her?

Tra. To-night.

Rowl. Take feed now

You do not trifle with me: if

you do,

You'll find more payment than your money comes to!

Come, swear (I know I am a man, and find I may deceive myself), swear faithfully, Swear me directly, am I Rowland?

Tra. Yes.

Rowl. Am I awake?

36 The grief of-her.] So the former copies; but surely the dash should be after her, instead of before:

The grief of her—

Jaques, Has kill'd him?

The grief of her signifies, his grief occasioned by her.

37 Lose his longings.] So first folio; other copies, lose his fadding.

Tra.

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Enter Maria in black, and Jaques. You're welcome to the last cast of your fortunes! [husband;

[him,

There lies your husband; there, your loving
There he that was Petruchio, too good for
You!
Your stubborn and unworthy way has kill'd
Ere he could reach the sea: if you can weep,
Now you have cause; begin, and after death
Do something yet to th' world, to think you
honest.

So many tears had sav'd him, shed in time;
And as they are (so a good mind go with 'em)
Yet they may move compassion.

Maria. Pray ye all hear me,

And judge me as I am, not as you covet, For that would make me yet more miserable: 'Tis true, I've cause to grieve, and mighty

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The memory of this man, had he liv'd
But two years longer, had begot more follies,
Than wealthy autumn flies. But let him rest.
He was a fool, and farewell he! not pitied,
I mean in way of life, or action,
By any understanding man that's honest,
But only in's posterity, which I,
Out of the fear his ruins might out-live him
In some bad issue, like a careful woman,
Like one indeed born only to preserve him
Denied him means to raise.

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[a faith,

Petru. You shall not need; for, as I have No cause shall give occasion.

Maria. As I an honest,

And as I am a maid yet, all my life From this hour, since you make so free profession,

I dedicate in service to your pleasure.

Soph. Ay, marry, this goes roundly off!
Petru. Go, Jaques,

[ney,
Get all the best meat may be bought for mo-
And let the hogsheads blood: I'm born again!
Well, little England, when I see a husband
Of any other nation, stern or jealous,
I'll wish him but a woman of thy breeding;
And if he have not butter to his bread

38 Let's remove our places.] This is plainly a sneer at the scene in Hamlet, where (on account of the Ghost calling under the stage) the prince and his friends two or three times remove their situations.--Again, in this play, p. 145, Petruchio's saying,

Something I'll do; but what it is, I know not!

seems to be meant as a ridicule on Lear's passionate exclamation,

– I will do such things~~~

What they are, yet I know not!

J. N.

"Till his teeth bleed, I'll never trust my travel.

Enter Rowland, Livia, Bianca, und Tranio.

Petron. What have we here? Rowl, Another morris, sir, That you must pipe to.

Tra. A poor married couple Desire an offering, sir.

Bianca. Never frown at it;

You cannot mend it now: there's your own hand,

And yours, Moroso, to confirm the bargain. Petron. My hand?

Mor. Or inine?

Bianca. You'll find it so.

Petron. A trick,

By Heaven, a trick!

Bianca. Yes, sir, we trick'd you.
Livia. Father-

Petron. Hast thou lain with him? Speak!
Livia. Yes, truly, sir.

Petron. And hast thou done the deed, boy?

Rowl. I have done, sir,

That that will serve the turn, I think.
Petru. A match then!

I'll be the maker-up of this. Moroso,
There's now no remedy, you see: be willing;
For be, or be not, he must have the wench.
Mor. Since I am over-reach'd, let's in to
And, if I can, I'll drink't away. [dinner;
Tra. That's well said! [trick: look to't,
Petron. Well, sirrah, you have play'd a
And let me be a grandsire within this twelve-
month,

[tunes!

Or, by this hand, I'll curtail half your forRowl. There shall not want my labour, sir. Here's one has undertaken. [Your money

Tra. Well, I'll trust her;

And glad I have so good a pawn.
Rowl. I'll watch you.

[and be jovial! Petru. Let's in, and drink of all hands, I have my colt again, and now she carries: And, gentlemen, whoever marries next, Let him be sure he keep him to his text.

[Exeunt.

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THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN.

A COMEDY.

The Commendatory Verses by Gardiner ascribe this Play solely to Fletcher; but the Prologue speaks of it as the production of both Authors. It was altered and revived by Durfey, in the year 1688, under the title of The Fool's Preferment, or The Three Dukes. of Dunstable, and acted at the Queen's Theatre in Dorset-Gardens.

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