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Of maidenheads, caught the common way, i' the And why thus boldly I commit my credit night too,

Into a stranger's hand, the fears and dangers Under another's name, to make the matter That force me to this wild course, at more leisure Carry more weight about it? Well, Don John, I shall reveal unto you. You will be wiser one day, when ye've purchased Fred. Come, be hearty, A bevy of those butter prints together,

He must strike through my life that takes you With searching out concealed iniquities,

from me.

[Ereunt. Without commission. Why it would never grieve me,

Enter PETRUCHIO, ANTONIO, and two GENTLEIf I had got this gingerbread; never stirred me. So I had had a stroke for it;'t had been justice

Petr. He will sure come: are ye all well armed ? Then to have kept it: but to raise a dairy,

Ant. Never fear us : For other men's adultery, consume myself in Here's that will make 'em dance without a fiddle.

caudles, And scouring work, in nurses, bells, and babies, Nor unadvised ones.

Petr. We are to look for no weak foes, my

[friends, Only for charity,.for mere I thank you,

Ant. Best gamesters make the best play; A little troubles me: the least touch for it,

We shall fight close and home them. Had but my breeches got it, it had contented me.

1st Gent. Antonio, Whose e'er it is, sure it had a wealthy mother,

You are thought too bloody:
For 'tis well clothed, and if I be not cozen'd,
Well lined within. 'To leave it here were bar- And penny almanacs allow the opening

Ant. Why? All physicians
And ten to one would kill it; a worse sin,

Of veins this month. Why do you talk of bloody?

What come we for? to fall to cuffs for apples ? Than his that got it. Well, I will dispose on't, What, would you make the cause a cudgel-quarAnd keep it, as they keep death’s heads in rings,

rel? To cry memento to me-no more peeping. Now all the danger is to qualify


Petr. Speak softly, gentle cousin. The good old gentlewoman at whose house we What should men do, allied to these disgraces,

Ant. I will speak truly, For she will fall upon me with a catechism

Lick o'er his enemy, sit down and dance him ; Of four hours long: I must endure all;

2d Gent. You are as far o'th' bow-band now. For I will know this mother. Come, good wonder, Ant. And cry,

(child ? Let you and I be jogging; your starved treble

That's my fine boy; thou wilt do so no more, Will waken the rude watch else. All that be

Petr. Here are no such cold pities. Curious night-walkers, may they find my fee.

Ant. By St. Jaques,

[Andrew, (Exit. They shall not find me one! Here's old tough Enter Don FREDERICK.

A special friend of mine, and he but hold, Fred. Sure he's gone home:

I'll 'strike them such a hornpipe! Knocks I I have beaten all the purlieus,

come for, But cannot bolt him. If he be a-bobbing,

And the best blood I light on : I profess it, "Tis not my care can cure him: to-morrow

morning My audit's lost, and farewell five-and-fifty.

Not to scare costermongers. If I lose my own, I shall have further knowledge from a surgeon, Where he lies moor'd to mend his leaks.

Petr. Let's talk no longer. Place yourselves

with silence Enter Ist CONSTANTIA.

As I directed ye; and when time calls us, Con. I am ready:

As ye are friends, to show yourselves.

Ant. So be it. And through a world of dangers am flown to ye.

(Eseunt. Be full of haste and care, we are undone else.

Enter Don John and his LANDLADY. Where are your people? Which way must we travel?

Land. Nay, son, if this be your regardFor Heaven's sake stay not here, Sir.

John. Good motherFred. What may this prove ?

Land. Good me no goods—Your cousin and Con. Alas! I am mistaken, lost, undone,

yourself For ever perished! Sir, for Heaven's sake, tell Are welcome to me, whilst you bear yourselves Are ye a gentleman ?

[me, Like honest and true gentlemen. Bring hither Fred. I am.

To my house, that have ever been reputed Con. Of this place ?

A gentlewoman of a decent and a fair carriage, Fred. No, born in Spain.

And so behaved myself Con. As ever you loved honour,

John. I know you have. As ever your desires may gain their end,

Land. Bring hither, as I say, to make my name Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit, Stink in my neighbour's nostrils, your devices, For I'm forced to trust ye.

Your brats got out of alligant and broken oaths, Fred. Y' have charmed me.

Your linsey-Woolsey work, your hasty puddings! Humanity and honour bids me help ye; I foster up your filch'd iniquities! And if I fail your trust

You're deceived in me, Sir, I am none Con. The time 's too dangerous

Of those receivers. To stay your protestations: I believe ye.

John. Have 1 noi sworn unto you, Alas ! I must believe ye. From this place, 'Tis none of mine, and show'd you how I foun lit? Good, noble Sir, remove me instantly.

Land. Ye found an easy fool that let you get it And for a time, where nothing but yourself, John. Will you hear me? And honest conversation may come near me, Land. Oaths! what care you for oaths to gain In some secure place settle me. What I am,

your ends;



When ye are high and painper'd? What saint | Your own eyes, signior; and the nether lip know ye?

As like ye, as ye had spit it. Or what religion, but your purposed lewdness, John. I am glad on't. Is to be look for of ye? Nay, I will tell ye- Land. Bless me! what things are these ? You will then swear like accused cut-purses, John. I thought my labour As far off truth too; and lie beyond all falconers: Was not all lost : 'tis gold, and these are jewels I'm sick to see this dealing.

Both rich and right, I hope. John. Heaven forbid, mother.

Land. Well, well, son John, Land. Nay, I am very sick.

I see y'ere a woodman, and can choose John. Who waits there?

Your deer, though it be i' th' dark; all your disPet. (Within.) Sir!

cretion John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine. Is not yet lost; this was well clapp'd aboard; Land. Exceeding sick, Heaven help me! Here I am with ye now, when, as they say, John. Haste ye, sirrah.

Your pleasure comes with profit; when you must I must e'en make her drunk. (Aside.) Nay, gen

needs do, tle mother

Do where you may be done to; 'tis a wisdom Land. Now fy upon ye! was it for this purpose Becomes a young man well: be sure of one thing, You fetch'd your evening walks for your devo Lose not your labour and your time together; tions?

It seasons of a fool, son ; time is precious, For this pretended holiness? No weather, Work wary whilst you have it. Since you must Not before day, could hold you from the matins.

traffic Were these your bo-peep prayers ? Y’ave pray'd Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, sigwell,

Trade with no broken merchants; make your And with a learned zeal have watch'd well too;

lading your saint,

As you would make your rest, adventurously, It seems, was pleased as well. Still sicker, sicker! But with advantage ever. Enter PETER with a bottle of wine.

John. All this time, mother, (nurses.

The child wants looking to, wants meat and John. There is no talking to her till I have Land. Now blessing o' thy heart, it shall have drench'd her.

And instantly I'll seek a nurse myself

, son. (all; Give me. Here, mother, take a good round 'Tis a sweet child—Ah, my young Spaniard! draught.

Take you no farther care, Sir. It will purge spleen from your spirits : deeper, John. Yes, of these jewels,

(yours, mother.

I must by your good leave, mother; the Land. Ay, ay, son; you imagine this will mend To make your care the stronger; for the rest, John. All, i faith, mother.

[all. I'll find a master; the gold for bringing up on't, Land. I confess the wine

I freely render to your charge. Will do his part.

Land. No more words, John. I'll pledge ye.

Nor no more children, good son, as you love nie. Land. But, son John

This may do well.
John. I know your meaning, mother; touch it John. I shall observe your morals.

But where 's Don Frederick, mother?
Alas! you look not well

, take a round draught, Land. Ten to one, It warms the blood well, and restores the colour, About the like adventure; he told me, And then we'll talk at large.

He was to find you out. Land. A civil gentleman !

John. Why should he stay us? (not, A stranger ! one the town holds a good regard of! There may be some ill chance in it: sleep I will John. Nay, I will silence thee there.

Before I have found him. Now this woman 's Land. One that should weigh his fair name ! pleased, -Oh, a stitch!

I'll seek my friend out, and my care is eased. John. There's nothing better for a stitch, good

(Ereunt. mother,

Enter Duke and three GENTLEMEN.
Make no spare of it, as you love your health:
Mince not the matter.

1st Gent. Believe, Sir, 'tis as possible to do it, Land. As I said, a gentleman

As to move the city: the main faction Lodger'd in my house! Now Heaven 's my com- Swarm through the streets like hornets, and with fort, signior!

augurs John. I looked for this.

Able to ruin states, no safety left us, Land. I did not think you would have used Nor means to die like men, if instantly me thus;

You draw not back again.
A woman of my credit, one, Heaven knows, Duke. May he be drawn,
That loves you but too tenderly.

And quarter'd too, that turns now; were I surer John. Dear mother,

Of death than thou art o'thy fears, and with death I ever found your kindness, and acknowledge it. More than those fears are too Land. No, no, I am a fool to counsel ye.- 1st Gent. Sir, I fear not. Where's the infant ?

Duke. I would not break my vow, start from Come, let's see your workmanship.

my honour, John. None of mine, mother:

Because I may find danger; wound my soul But there 'tis, and a lusty one.

To keep my body safe. Land. Heaven bless thee,

1st Gent. I speak not, Sir, Thou hadst a hasty making: but the best is, Out of a baseness to ye. 'Tis many a good man's fortune. As I live, Duke. No, nor do not

VOL II. ... 3G

once more.

Out of a baseness leave me. What is danger Fred. Trust me,
More cnan the weakness of our apprehensions ? The abstract of all beauty, soul of sweetness!
A poor cold part o'th' blood. Who takes it hold Defend me, honest thoughts, I shall grow wild else
Cowards and wicked livers ; valiant minds [of? What eyes are there! rather what little heavens,
Were made masters of it: and as hearty seamen To stir men's contemplation! What a Paradise
In desperate storms stem with a little rudder Runs through each part she has ! Good blood, be
The tumbling ruins of the ocean;

So with their cause and swords do they do dangers. I must look off: too excellent an object
Say we were sure to die all in this venture, Confounds the sense that sees it. Noble lady,
As I am confident against it; is there any If there be any further service to cast on me,
Amongst us of so fat a sense, so pamper'd, Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye,
Would choose luxuriously to lie a-bed,

Or the engagements of whole families.
And purge away his spirits; send his soul out Con. Your service is too liberal, worthy Sir.
In sugar-sops and sirups? Give me dying Thus far I shall entreat-
As dying ought to be, upon mine enemy;

Fred. Command me, lady:
Parting with mankind, by a man that's manly? You may make your power too poor.
Let them be all the world, and bring along Con. That presently,
Cain's envy with them, I will on.

With all convenient haste, you will retire 2d Gent. You may, Sir,

Unto the street you found me in. But with what safety ?

Fred. 'Tis done. Ist Gent. Since 'tis come to dying,

Con. There if you find a gentleman oppress'd You shall perceive, Sir, that here be those with force and violence, do a man's office, amongst us,

And draw your sword to rescue him.
Can die as decently as other men,

Fred. He's safe,
And with as little ceremony. On, brave Sir. Be what he will, and let his foes be devils,
Duke. That's spoken heartily.

Arm'd with your beauty I shall conjure them, 1st Gent. And he that flinches,

Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessary May he die lousy in a ditch.

Are there before ye. Duke. No more dying,

Con. All my prayers go with ye. [Erit. There 's no such danger in't. What's o'clock? Fred. Ye clap on proof upon me. Men say, gold

3d Gent. Somewhat above your hour. Does all, engages all, works through all dangers. Duke. Away then quickly,

Now I say, beauty can do more The king's exMake no noise, and no trouble will attend us.

chequer, (Ereunt. Nor all his wealthy Indies, could not draw me

Through half those miseries this piece of pleasure Enter FREDERICK and ANTHONY with a Candle. Might make me leap into: we are all like sea

Fred. Give me the candle; so, go you out that All our endeavours and our motions
Ant. What have we now to do? (way. (As they do to the north) still point at beauty
Fred. And on your life, sirrah,

Still at the fairest; for a handsome woman,
Let none come near the door without my know-(Setting my soul aside) it should go hard
No, not my landlady, nor my friend. [ledge : But I will strain my body; yet to her,
Ant. 'Tis done, Sir.

Unless it be her own free gratitude.
Fred. Nor any serious business that concerns Hopes, ye shall die, and thou, tongue, rot within
Ant. Is the wind there again?


me, Fred. Be gone.

Ere I infringe my faith. Now to my rescue. Ant. I am, Sir. (Erit.

(Erit. Fred. Now enter without fearEnter 1st CONSTANTIA with a jewel.

ACT II. And, noble lady,

SCENE I.-Enter Duke, pursued by Petre That safety and civility ye wish for

CHIO, ANTONIO, and that Faction. Shall truly here attend you; no rude tongue Duke. You will not all oppress me? Nor rough behaviour knows this place; no wishes,

Ant. Kill him i' the wanton eye: Beyond the moderation of a man,

Let me come to him. Dare enter here. Your own desires and inno

Duke. Then you shall buy me dearly. cence, Join'd to my vow'd obedience, shall protect ye.

Petr. Say you so, Sir ?

Ant. I say, cut his wezand, spoil his peeping. Con. Ye are truly noble, And worth a woman's trust: let it become me:

Have at your love-sick heart, Sir. (I do beseech you, Sir) for all your kindness,

Enter Don John.
To render with my thanks this worthless trifle-
I may be longer troublesome.

John. Sure 'tis fighting!
Fred. Fair offices

(lady, My friend may be engaged. Fy, gentlemen, Are still their own rewards: Heaven bless me, This is unmanly odds. From selling civil courtesies. May it please ye,

[DUKE falls ; Don John bestrides him. If ye will force a favour to oblige me,

Ant. I'll stop your mouth, Sir. Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfy me

John. Nay, then have at thee freely. For what good angel I am engaged.

There's a plumb, Sir, to satisfy your longing. Con. It shall be ;

Peir. Away; I hope I have sped him : nere For I am truly confident ye are honest. The piece is scarce worth looking on.

We shall be endanger'd. Where's Antonio?

comes rescue.

tell me,

Ant. I must have one thrust more, Sir.

John. Come up to me.
Ant. A mischief confound your fingers.

John. I'm yours.
Petr. How is it?

This is some noble fellow!
Ant. Well:

Fred. 'Tis his tongue sure.
He has given me my quietus est ; I felt him Don John!
In my small guts; I'm sure he's feez'd me; John. Don Frederick !
This comes of siding with you.

Fred. Y' are fairly met, Sir! 20 Gent. Can you go, Sir?

I thought ye had been a bat-fowling. Pr’ythe Ant. I shall go, man, and my head were off; Never talk of going.

What revelation hast thou had to-night, Petr. Come, all shall be well then.

That home was never thought on? I hear more rescue coming. (Trampling within. John. Revelations!

I'll tell thee, Frederick; but before I tell thee, Enter the Duke's faction.

Settle thy understanding.

Fred.' 'Tis prepared, Sir. Ant. Let's turn back then;

John. Why then mark what shall follow My skull 's uncloven yet, let me kill


This night, Frederick, this bawdy nightPetr. Away, for Heaven's sake, with him. Fred. I thought no less.

(Erit cum suis. John. This blind night, John. How is it?

What dost thou think I have got? Duke. Well, Sir,

Fred. The pox, it may be. Only a little stagger'd.

John. Would 'twere no worse: ye talk of reDuke's fact. Let's pursue them.

velations, Duke. No, not a man, I charge ye. Thanks, I have got a revelation will reveal me good coat,

An arrant coxcomb whilst I live. Thou hast saved me a shrewd welcome : 'twas Fred. What is't? put home,

Thou hast lost nothing? With a good mind too, I'm sure on't.

John. No, I have got, I tell thee. John. Are you safe then?

Fred. What hast thou got? Duke. My thanks to you, brave Sir, whose John. One of the infantry, a child. timely valour

Fred. How! And manly courtesy came to my rescue.

John. A chopping child, man. John. Ye had foul play offer'd ye, and shame Fred. Give you joy, Sir. befal him

John. A lump of lewdness, Frederick; that's That can pass by oppression.

the truth on't. Duke. May I crave, Sir,

This town 's abominable,
By this much honour more, to know your name, Fred. I still told ye, John,
And him I am so bound to ?

Your whoring must come home; I counsell'd

ye: John. For the bond, Sir,

But where no grace is 'Tis every good man's tie: to know me further, John. 'Tis none of mine, man. Will little profit you; I am a stranger,

Fred. Answer the parish so. My country Spain, my name Don John, a gen John. Cheated in troth tleman

(Peeping int) a house) by whom I know not, That came abroad to travel.

Nor where to find the place again; no, Frederick, Duke. I have heard, Sir,

'Tis no poor one, Much worthy mention of ye, yet I find

That's my best comfort, for 't has brought about it Fame short of what ye are.

Enough to make it man. John. You are pleased, Sir,

Fred. Where is't? To express your courtesy: may I demand

John. At home. As freely what you are, and what mischance Fred. A saving voyage; but what will you Cast you into this danger?

say, Signior, Dike. For this present

To him that searching out your serious worship, I must desire your pardon : you shall know me Has met a strange fortune ? Ere it be long, Sir, and nobler thanks,

John. How, good Frederick ? Than now my will can render.

A militant girl to this boy would hit it. John. Your will 's your own,


Fred. No, mine's a nobler venture: what do Duke. What is't you look for, Sir ? Have you

you think, Sir, lost any thing!

Of a distressed lady, one whose beauty John. Only my hat i' th' scuffle; sure these Would oversell all Italy? fellows

John. Where is she? Were night-snaps.

Fred. A woman of that rare behaviour,
Duke. No, believe me, Sir : pray use mine, So qualified, as admiration
For 'twill be hard to find your own now. Dwells round about her; of that perfect spirit
John. No, Sir.

John. Ay, marry, Sir.
Duke. Indeed you shall; I can command an Fred. That admirable carriage,
I do beseech


(other: That sweetness in discourse; young as the mornJohn. Well , Sir, then I will, Her blushes staining his.

(ing, And so I'll take my leave.

John. But where's this creature? Duke. Within these few days

Show me but that. I hope I shall be happy in your knowledge, Fred. That's all one; she 's forthcoming. Till when I love your memory. (Erit cum suis. I 1 have her sure, boy.


with me,

John. Hark ye, Frederick;

Pet. Where they should be, (thonsWhat truck betwixt my infant ?

I do conceive; but where they are, good ÀnFred. 'T'is too light, Sir;

Ant. Ay, there it goes: my master 's bo-peep Stick to your charge, good Don John; I am well. John. But is there such a wench?

With his sly popping in and out again, Fred. First tell me this;

Argued a cause-Hark! (Lute sounds. Did you not lately, as you walk'd along,

Pet. What? Discover

people that were armed, and likely Ant. Dost not hear a lute? To do offence ?

Again! John. Yes, marry, and they urged it

Pet. Where is't? As far as they had spirit.

Ant. Above, in my master's chamber. Fred. Pray go forward.

['em. Pet. There's no creature: he hath the key John. A gentleman I found engaged amongst Man.

[himself, It seems of noble breeding, I'm sure brave metal; Ant. This is his lute, let him have it. As I returned to look you, I set into him,

[Sings within a little. And without hurt, I thank Heaven, rescued him. Pet. I grant ye; but who strikes it? Fred. My work 's done then;

Ant. An admirable voice too, hark ye.
And now to satisfy you, there is a woman- Pet. Anthony,
Oh, John, there is a woman-

Art sure we are at home?
John. Oh, where is she?

Ant. Without all doubt, Peter.
Fred. And one of no less worth than I told; Pet. Then this must be the devil.
And which is more, fallen under my protection. Ant. Let it be.
John. I am glad of that; forward, sweet Fre- Good devil, sing again: O dainty devil,

Peter, believe it, a most delicate devil,
Fred. And which is more than that, by this The sweetest devil-

night's wandering; And which is most of all, she is at home, too, Sir.

Enter FREDERICK and Don JOHN John. Come, let's begone then.

Fred. If you would leave peeping. Fred. Yes, but 'tis most certain

John. I cannot by no means.
You cannot see her, John.

Fred. Then come in softly;
John. Why?
Fred. She has sworn me,

And as you love your faith, presume no further That none else shall come near her; not my mo

Than ye have promised.

John. Basco. 'Till some doubts are cleared.


Fred. What makes you up so early, Sir ? John. Not look upon her ? What chamber is she in?

John. You, Sir, in your contemplations? Fred. In ours.

Pet. Opray ye peace, Sir! John. Let us go, I say?

Fred. Why peace, Sir ?

hear A woman's oaths are wafers, and break with

John. 'Tis your lute: she 's playing on't. making They must for modesty a little : We all know it. For this we have heard this half hour.

Ant. The house is haunted, Sir: Fred. No, I'll assure ye, Sir.

Fred. Ye saw nothing. John. Not see her!

Ant. Not I. I smell an old dog-trick of yours. Well, Frederick,

Pet. Nor I, Sir.
Ye talk'd to me of whoring; let's have fair play,

Fred. Get your breakfast then,
Square-dealing, I would wish ye.
Fred. When 'tis come

And make no words on't: we'll undertake this

If it be one. (Which I know never will be) to that issue,

(spirit, Your spoon shall be as deep as mine, Sir.

Ant. This is no devil, Peter!

Mum! there be bats abroad. John. Tell me,

(Exeunt ambo And tell me true, is the cause honourable,

Fred. Stay, now she sings.

John. An angel's voice, I'll swear.
Or for your ease ?
Fred. By all our friendship, John,

Fred. Why dost thou shrug so ? 'Tis honest and of great end.

Either allay this heat, or, as I live,

I will not trust ye.
John. I'm answerd;
But let me see her, though; leave the door open

John. Pass, I warrant ye.

(Eseunt. As you go in.

Fred. I dare not.
John. Not widc open,

Con. To curse those stars that men say go But just so as a jealous husband

vern us, Would level at his wanton wife through.

To rail at fortune, to fall out with my fate, Fred. That courtesy,

And tax the general world, will help me nothing: If you desire no more, and keep it strictly,

Alas! I am the same still: neither are they I dare afford ye: come, 'tis now near morning.

Subject to helps or hurts; our own desires (Ereunt. Are our own fates, and our own stars all our for

tune; Enter Peter and ANTHONY. Which, as we sway 'em, so abuse or bless us. Pet. Nay, the old woman 's gone too.

Enter FREDERICK, and Don John peeping Ant. She's a caterwauling

Fred. Peace to your meditations.
Amongst the gutters. But conceive me, Peter, John. Pox upon ye,
Where our good masters should be.

Stand out of the light.

Pet. Do you

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