KATE

You jest I am sure, is she yours already? The devil you do, who told you so? Was ever seen so grose and ass as this? Hands off I say, and get you from this place; Or I will set my ten commandments in your face. Let go my hand, for fear it reach your ear. In faith sir no the woodcock wants his tail. 'Tis for your skin then, but not to be your wife. Why father, what do you mean to do with me, To give me thus unto this brainsick man, That in his mood cares not to murder me? She turns aside and speaks. But yet I will consent and marry him, For I methinks have lived too long a maid, And match him to, or else his manhoods good. It is no matter whither I do or no, For trust me I take no great delight in it. In you with a pestilence, are you so kind? Then make a night cap of your fiddles case, To warm your head, and hide your filthy face. Your so kind it pity you should be hanged, And yet methinks the fool doth look asquint. No, but I mean to move thee. I, give me the Lute. Then mend it thou, thou filthy ass. How now Jack sauce, your a jolly mate, Your best be still least I cross your pate, And make your music fly about your ears, I'll make it and your foolish coxcomb meet. She offers to strike him with the lute. I on thy head, and if thou speak to me, There take it up and fiddle somewhere else, She throws it down. And see you come no more into this place, Least that I clap your fiddle on your face. Not I with one so mad, so basely tirde, To marry such a filthy slavish groom, That as it seems sometime is from his wits, Or else he would not thus have come to us. Let him go or tarry I am resolu'de to stay, And not to travel on my wedding day. But not for me, for here I mean to dine. I'll have my will in this as well as you, Though you in madding mood would leave your friends Despite of you I'll tarry with them still. Sander I prethe help me to some meat, I am so faint that I can scarcely stand. Why man thy Master needs never know it. Why I say 'tis excellent meat, canst thou help me to some? Why any thing, I care not what it be. Thats meat for a King sweet Sander help Me to some of it. I tell thee villain I'll tear the flesh of Thy face and eat it and thou prates to me thus. Nay nay I pray you let him take it hence, And keep it for your own diet for I'll none, I'll never be beholding to you for your Meat, I tell thee flatly here unto the thy teeth Thou shalt not keep me nor feed me as thou list, For I will home again unto my father's house. What if I did, come hither sirrah, give me The cap, I'll see if it will fit me. Come come I Like the fashion of it well enough, Heres more a do then needs I'll have it, And if you do not Like it hide your eyes, I think I shall have nothing by your will. Nine a clock, why 'tis already passed two In the after noon by all the clocks in the town. I say 'tis tow a clock in the after noon. The moon? why husband you are deceived It is the sun. Why I'll say as you say it is the moon. Jesus save the glorious moon. Fair lovely lady, bright and Christalline, Bewteous and stately as the eie-traind bird, As glorious as the morning washed with Due, Within whose eyes she takes her dawning beams, And golden summer sleeps upon thy cheeks, Wrap up thy radiations in some cloud, Least that thy beauty make this stately town, Inhabitable Like the burning Zone, With sweet reflections of thy lovely face. Sweet husband did you send for me? Nothing husband but my cap I think. They be sitting in the bridal chamber. I will. Then you that live thus by your pompered wills, Now list to me and mark what I shall say, Theternall power that with his only breath, Shall cause this end and this beginning frame, Not in time, nor before time, but with time, confused, For all the course of years, of ages, months, Of seasons temperate, of days and hours, Are tuned and stopped, by measure of his hand, The first world was, a form, without a form, A heap confused a mixture all deformed, A gulf of gulfs, a body bodiles, Where all the elements were orderles, Before the great commander of the world The King of Kings the glorious God of heaven Who in six days did frame his heavenly work, And made all things to stand in perfect course. Then to his image he did make a man. Old Adam and from his side a sleep, A rib was taken, of which the Lord did make, The woe of man so termed by Adam then, Woman for that, by her came sin to us, And for her sin was Adam doomed to die, As Saram to her husband, so should we, Obey them, love them, keep, and nourish them, If they by any means do want our helps, Laying our hands under their feet to tread, If that by that we, might procure there ease, And for a president I'll first begin, And lay my hand under my husbands feet Not for me: for I'll not go. Out villain dost thou mock me, Take that for thy sawsinesse. Why I thank you for it. The fashion is good enough: belike you, Mean to make a fool of me. See husband I have brought them both.