O gentlemen, so late? Youʼre very welcome;

1.3.2466Pray sit down.

Carolo, didst eʼer see such a nest of caps?

Methinks 469itʼs a most civil and most comely sight.

[Indicating 1 Guest] What does he iʼthʼ middle look like?

Troth, like a spire steeple in a country village 472overpeering so many thatched houses.

Itʼs, rather, a long pike-staff against so many 474bucklers without pikes; they sit for all the world like a pair of 475organs, and heʼs the tall great roaring pipe iʼthʼ midst.

Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Whatʼs that you laugh at, signors?

Troth, shall I tell you, and aloud Iʼll tell it:

1.3.11479We laugh to see – yet laugh we not in scorn –

1.3.12480Amongst so many caps that long hat worn.

Mine is as tall a felt as any is this day in Milan; and 482therefore I love it, for the block was cleft out for my head, 483and fits me to a hair.

[To the Gentlemen] Indeed, you are good observers; it shows strange.

1.3.15485But, gentlemen, I pray neither contemn

1.3.16486Nor yet deride a civil ornament;

1.3.17487I could build so much in the round capʼs praise

1.3.18488That ʼbove this high roof I this flat would raise.

Prithee, sweet bridegroom, doʼt.

So all these guests will pardon me, Iʼll doʼt.

With all our hearts.

With all our hearts. [Raising his cap] Thus, then, in the capʼs honour.

1.3.22493To every sex and state both nature, time,

1.3.23494The countryʼs laws, yea, and the very clime

1.3.24495Do allot distinct habits. The spruce courtier

1.3.25496Jets up and down in silk; the warrior

1.3.26497Marches in buff; the clown plods on in grey.

1.3.27498But for these upper garments thus I say:

1.3.28499The seaman has his cap, pared without brim;

1.3.29500The gallantʼs head is feathered – that fits him;

1.3.30501The soldier has his morion; women haʼ tires;

1.3.31502Beasts have their head-pieces, and men haʼ theirs.

Proceed.

Each degree has his fashion. Itʼs fit, then,

1.3.34505One should be laid by for the citizen,

1.3.35506And thatʼs the cap which you see swells not high,

1.3.36507For caps are emblems of humility.

1.3.37508It is a citizenʼs badge, and first was worn

1.3.38509By thʼRomans. For when any bondmanʼs turn

1.3.39510Came to be made a freeman, thus ʼtwas said,

1.3.40511He to the cap was called – that is, was made

1.3.41512Of Rome a freeman, but was first close shorn;

1.3.42513And so a citizenʼs hair is still short worn.

That close shaving made barbers a company, 515and now every citizen uses it.

Of geometric figures the most rare

1.3.45517And perfectʼst are the circle and the square.

1.3.46518The city and the school much build upon

1.3.47519These figures, for both love proportion.

1.3.48520The city-cap is round, the scholarʼs square,

1.3.49521To show that government and learning are

1.3.50522The perfectʼst limbs iʼthʼ body of a state,

1.3.51523For without them allʼs disproportionate.

1.3.52524If the cap had no honour, this might rear it:

1.3.53525The reverend fathers of the law do wear it.

1.3.54526Itʼs light for summer, and in cold it sits

1.3.55527Close to the skull, a warm house for the wits.

1.3.56528It shows the whole face boldly. ʼTis not made

1.3.57529As if a man to look out were afraid,

1.3.58530Nor like a draperʼs shop with broad, dark shed;

1.3.59531For heʼs no citizen that hides his head.

1.3.60532Flat caps as proper are to city gowns

1.3.61533As to armours helmets, or to kings their crowns.

1.3.62534Let, then, the city-cap by none be scorned,

1.3.63535Since with it princesʼ heads have been adorned.

1.3.64536If more the round capʼs honour you would know,

1.3.65537How would this long gown with this steeple show?

Ha, ha, ha! Most vile, most ugly!

1.3.67.1Pray, signor, pardon me; ʼtwas done in jest.

[To Prentices] A cup of claret wine there!

Wine? Yes, forsooth, wine for the bride!

[To Candido] You haʼ well set out the cap, sir.

Nay, thatʼs flat.

A health!

Since his capʼs round, that 546shall go round. Be bare,

1.3.74547For in the capʼs praise all of you have share.

1.3.75548The brideʼs at cuffs!

O, peace, I pray thee. Though far off I stand,

1.3.77I spied the 550error of my servants;

1.3.78She called for claret, and [To 1 Prentice] you filled out 551sack.

1.3.79[Indicating the cup of sack] That cup give me: ʼtis for an old manʼs back,

1.3.80And 552not for hers. Indeed, ʼtwas but mistaken –

1.3.81Ask all these 553else.

Ask all these else. No, faith, ʼtwas but mistaken.

Nay, she took it right enough.

[To Luke] Good Luke, reach her that glass of claret.

1.3.84557Here, Mistress Bride, pledge me there.

Here, Mistress Bride, pledge me there. Now Iʼll none.

How now?

[To 1 Prentice] Look what your mistress ails.

Nothing, sir, but about filling a wrong glass – a scurvy 562trick.

I pray you, hold your tongue. –

1.3.89My servant there [Indicating Luke] tells 564me she is not well.

Step to her, step to her.

[To Candido] A word with you – do ye hear? This wench, your 567new wife, will take you down in your wedding shoes, 568unless you hang her up in her wedding-garters.

How, hang her in her garters?

Will you be a tame pigeon still? Shall your back 571be like a tortoise-shell, to let carts go over it yet not to 572break? This she-cat will have more lives than your last 573puss had, and will scratch worse and mouse you worse; 574look toʼt.

What would you have me do, sir?

What would I have you do? Swear, swagger, 577brawl, fling! For fighting itʼs no matter; we haʼ had knocking 578pusses enough already. You know that a woman was made of 579the rib of a man, and that rib was crooked. The moral of 580which is that a man must from his beginning be crooked 581to his wife. Be you like an orange to her: let her cut you never 582so fair, be you sour as vinegar. Will you be ruled by me?

In anything thatʼs civil, honest, and just.

Have you ever a prenticeʼs suit will fit me?

I have the very same which myself wore.

Iʼll send my man forʼt within this half hour, and 587within this two hours Iʼll be your prentice. The hen shall 588not overcrow the cock; Iʼll sharpen your spurs.

It will be but some jest, sir?

Only a jest. Farewell. – Come, Carolo.

Weʼll take our leaves, sir, too.

Weʼll take our leaves, sir, too. Pray conceit not ill

1.3.103Of my wifeʼs sudden rising. 593This young knight,

1.3.104Sir Lodovico, is deep seen in physic,

1.3.105594And he tells me the disease called the mother

1.3.106Hangs on my 595wife. It is a vehement heaving

1.3.107And beating of the stomach, 596and that swelling

1.3.108Did with the pain thereof cramp up her 597arm;

1.3.109That hit his lips, and brake the glass. No harm;

1.3.110It was 598no harm!

It was no harm! No, signor, none at all.

The straightest arrow may fly wide by chance.

1.3.112601But come, weʼll close this brawl up in some dance.