_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 for men to wonder at, But too divine to handle; we are Gold, In our own natures pure; but when we suffer The husbands stamp upon us, then allays, And base ones of you men are mingled with us, And make us blush like Copper. _Petru._ Then, and never Till then are women to be spoken of, For till that time you have no souls I take it: Good night: come Gentlemen; I'll fast for this night, But by this hand, well; I shall come up yet. _Mar._ No. _Petru._ There will I watch thee like a wither'd Jury, Thou shalt neither have meat, Fire, nor Candle, Nor any thing that's easie: do you rebel so soon? Yet take mercy. _By._ Put up your Pipes: to bed Sir, I'll assure you A months siege will not shake us. _Moro._ Well said Colonel. _Mar._ To bed, to bed _Petruchio_: good night Gentlemen, You'll make my Father sick with sitting up: Here you shall find us any time these ten days, Unless we may march off with our contentment. _Petru._ I'll hang first.