Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 08 of 10

Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 08 of 10

Moroso, an old rich doting Citizen, suitor to Livia. Sophocles, } Two Gentlemen, friends to Petruchio. Tranio, Petruchio, An Italian Gent. Husband to Maria. Rowland, A young Gent. in love with Livia. Petronius, Father to Maria and Livia. Jaques, } Two witty servants to Petruchio. Pedro, Doctor. Apothecarie. Watchmen. Porters. Maria, A chaste witty Lady, } The two masculine daughters of Petronius. Livia, Mistriss to Rowland. Biancha, Their Cosin, and Commander in chief. City Wives, } To the relief of the Ladies, of which, two were drunk. Countrey Wives, Maids. Mo. God give 'em joy. Tra. Amen. Soph. Amen, say I too: The pudding's now i'th' proof, alas poor wench. Through what a mine of patience must thou work, E'r thou know'st good hour more! Tra. 'Tis too true: Certain, Methinks her father has dealt harshly with her, Exceeding harshly, and not like a Father, To match her to this Dragon; I protest [Pg 3] I pity the poor Gentlewoman. Mor. Methinks now, He's not so terrible as people think him. Soph. This old thief flatters, out of meer devotion, To please the Father for his second daughter. Tra. But shall he have her? Soph. Yes, when I have Rome. And yet the father's for him. Mor. I'll assure ye, I hold him a good man. Soph. Yes sure a wealthy, But whether a good womans man, is doubtful. Tra. Would 'twere no worse. M[o]r. What though his other wife, Out of her most abundant soberness, Out of her daily hue and cries upon him, (For sure she was a rebel) turn'd his temper, And forc'd him blow as high as she? dos't follow He must retain that long since buried Tempest, To this soft Maid? Soph. I fear it. Tra. So do I too: And so far, that if God had made me woman, And his wife that must be Mor. What would you do, Sir? Tra. I would learn to eat coals with an angry Cat, And spit fire at him: I would (to prevent him) Do all the ramping, roaring tricks, a whore Being drunk, and tumbling ripe, would tremble at: There is no safety else, nor moral wisdom. To be a wife, and his. Soph. So I should think too. Tra. For yet the bare remembrance of his first wife (I tell ye on my knowledge, and a truth too) Will make him start in's sleep, and very often Cry out for Cudgels, Colestaves, any thing; Hiding his breeches, out of fear her Ghost Should walk, and wear 'em yet. Since his first marriage, He is no more the still Petruchio, Than I am Babylon. [Pg 4] Soph. He's a good fellow, And on my word I love him: but to think A fit match for this tender soul Tra. His very frown, if she but say her prayers Louder than men talk treason, makes him tinder; The motion of a Dial, when he's testy, Is the same trouble to him as a Water-work; She must do nothing of her self; not eat, Drink, say Sir, how do ye? make her ready, unready, Unless he bid her. Soph. He will bury her, Ten pound to twenty shillings, within these three weeks. Tra. I'll be your half. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 35303
Author: Beaumont, Francis
Release Date: Feb 17, 2011
Format: eBook
Language: English

Contributors

Contributor (Author): Fletcher, John, 1579-1625
Editor: Waller, A. R. (Alfred Rayney), 1867-1922