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_ ACT IV SCENE VIII
[SCENE VIII.-The Lane before COB'S House.
Enter KNOWELL.]
Know.
Oh, here it is; I am glad I have found it now;
Ho! who is within here?
Tib. [within.] I am within, sir; what's your pleasure?
Know. To know who is within beside yourself.
Tib. Why, sir, you are no constable, I hope?
Know.
O, fear you the constable? then I doubt not,
You have some guests within deserve that fear;
I'll fetch him straight.
[Enter TIB.]
Tib. O' God's name, sir!
Know. Go to: come tell me, is not young Knowell here?
Tib. Young Knowell! I know none such, sir, o' mine honesty.
Know.
Your honesty, dame! it flies too lightly from you.
There is no way but fetch the constable.
Tib. The constable! the man is mad, I think.
[Exit, and claps to the door.
[Enter Dame KITELY and CASH.]
Cash. Ho! who keeps house here?
Know.
O, this is the female copesmate of my son:
Now shall I meet him straight.
Dame K. Knock, Thomas, hard.
Cash. Ho, goodwife!
[Re-enter TIB.]
Tib. Why, what's the matter with you?
Dame K.
Why, woman, grieves it you to ope your door?
Belike you get something to keep it shut.
Tib. What mean these questions, pray ye?
Dame K. So strange you make it! is not my husband here?
Know. Her husband!
Dame K. My tried husband, master Kitely?
Tib. I hope he needs not to be tried here.
Dame K. No, dame, he does it not for need, but pleasure.
Tib. Neither for need nor pleasure is he here.
Know. This is but a device to balk me withal:
[Enter KITELY, muffled in his cloak.]
Soft, who is this? 'tis not my son disguised?
Dame K. [spies her husband, and runs to him.]
O, sir, have I fore-stall'd your honest market,
Found your close walks? You stand amazed now, do you?
I'faith, I am glad I have smok'd you yet at last.
What is your jewel, trow? In, come, let's see her;
Fetch forth your housewife, dame; if she be fairer,
In any honest judgment, than myself,
I'll be content with it: but she is change,
She feeds you fat, she soothes your appetite,
And you are well! Your wife, an honest woman,
Is meat twice sod to you, sir! O, you treachour!
Know. She cannot counterfeit thus palpably.
Kit.
Out on thy more than strumpet impudence!
Steal'st thou thus to thy haunts? and have I taken
Thy bawd and thee, and thy companion,
This hoary-headed letcher, this old goat,
Close at your villainy, and would'st thou 'scuse it
With this stale harlot's jest, accusing me?
O, old incontinent, [to Knowell.] dost thou not shame,
When all thy powers in chastity are spent,
To have a mind so hot? and to entice,
And feed the enticements of a lustful woman?
Dame K. Out, I defy thee, I, dissembling wretch!
Kit.
Defy me, strumpet! Ask thy pander here,
Can he deny it; or that wicked elder?
Know. Why, hear you, sir.
Kit.
Tut, tut, tut; never speak:
Thy guilty conscience will discover thee.
Know. What lunacy is this, that haunts this man?
Kit.
Well, good wife bawd, Cob's wife, and you,
That make your husband such a hoddy-doddy;
And you, young apple-squire, and old cuckold-maker;
I'll have you every one before a justice:
Nay, you shall answer it, I charge you go.
Know.
Marry, with all my heart, sir, I go willingly;
Though I do taste this as a trick put on me,
To punish my impertinent search, and justly,
And half forgive my son for the device.
Kit. Come, will you go?
Dame K. Go! to thy shame believe it.
[Enter Cob.]
Cob. Why, what's the matter here, 'what's here to do?
Kit.
O; Cob, art thou come? I have been abused,
And in thy house; was never man so wrong'd!
Cob. 'Slid, in my house, my master Kitely! who wrongs you in my house? '
Kit.
Marry, young lust in old, and old in young here:
Thy wife's their bawd, here have I taken them.
Cob. How, bawd! is my house come to that? Am I preferr'd thither? Did I not charge you to keep your doors shut, Isbel? and---you let them lie open for all comers!
[Beats his wife.]
Know. Friend, know some cause, before thou beat'st thy wife. This is madness in thee.
Cob. Why, is there no cause?
Kit.
Yes, I'll shew cause before the justice, Cob:
Come, let her go with me.
Cob. Nay, she shall go.
Tib. Nay, I will go. I'll see an you may be allowed to make a bundle of hemp of your right and lawful wife thus, at every cuckoldy knave's pleasure. Why do you not go?
Kit. A bitter quean! Come, we will have you tamed.
[Exeunt.] _
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