And through a world of dangers am flown to ye.

Ever so bobb'd for searching out adventures, As I am? Did the devil lead me! Must I needs be peeping

Into men's houses where I had no business, And make myself a mischief? "Tis well carried!

I must take other men's occasions on me, And be I know not whom: most finely handled! [purchase? What have I got by this now? What's the A piece of evening arras-work, a child, Indeed an infidel! This comes of peeping! A lump got out of laziness! Good white bread,

Let's have no bawling with ye. 'Sdeath, have I Known wenches thus long, all the ways of wenches,

Their snares and subtleties! Have I read over All their school-learning, dived into their quiddits,

And am I now bumfiddled with a bastard? Fetch'd over with a card of five, and in my old After the dire massacre of a million [days, Of maidenheads, caught the common way, i' the night too,

Under another's name, to make the matter
Carry more weight about it? Well, Don John,
You will be wiser one day, when ye've pur-
chased

A bevy of those butter prints together,
With searching out concealed iniquities,
Without commission. Why it would never
grieve me,

me.

If I had got this gingerbread; never stirred
[justice
So I had had a stroke for it; 't had been
Then to have kept it: but to raise a dairy,
For other men's adultery, consume myself in
caudles,
[bies,

And scouring work, in nurses, bells, and ba-
Only for charity, for mere I thank you,
A little troubles me: the least touch for it,
Had but my breeches got it, it had contented

me.

Whose e'er it is, sure it had a wealthy mother, For 'tis well clothed, and if I be not cozen'd, Well lined within. To leave it here were barbarous,

And ten to one would kill it; a worse sin
Than bis that got it. Well, I will dispose on't,
And keep it, as they keep death's heads in
rings,

To cry memento to me-no more peeping.
Now all the danger is to qualify [live;
The good old gentlewoman at whose house we
For she will fall upon me with a catechism
Of four hours long: I must endure all;
For I will know this mother. Come, good
wonder,

Let you and I be jogging; your starved treble
Will waken the rude watch else. All that be
Curious night-walkers, may they find my fee.

Enter DON FREDERICK.

[Exit.

Fred. Sure he's gone home: I have beaten all the purlieus, But cannot bolt him. If he be a-bobbing, 'Tis not my care can cure him: to-morrow morning

I shall have further knowledge from a surgeon, Where he lies moor'd to mend his leaks.

Enter 1st CONSTANTIA.

Con. I am ready:

Be full of haste and care, we are undone else. Where are your people? Which way must we travel?

For Heaven's sake stay not here, Sir.
Fred. What may this prove?

Con. Alas! I am mistaken, lost, undone, For ever perished! Sir, for Heaven's sake, tell me,

Are ye a gentleman ?
Fred. I am.

Con. Of this place?

Fred. No, born in Spain.

Con. As ever you loved honour,
As ever your desires may gain their end,
Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit,
For I'm forced to trust ye.

Fred. Y' have charmed me.
Humanity and honour bids me help ye;
And if I fail your trust-

Con. The time's too dangerous
To stay your protestations: I believe ye.
Alas! I must believe ye. From this place,
Good, noble Sir, remove me instantly.
And for a time, where nothing but yourself,
And honest conversation may come near me,
What I am,
In some secure place settle me.

And why thus boldly I commit my credit
Into a stranger's hand, the fears and dangers
That force me to this wild course, at more
I shall reveal unto you.
[leisure

Fred. Come, be hearty,

from me.

He must strike through my life that takes you [Exeunt. Enter PETRUCHIO, ANTONIO, and two GENTLE

MEN.

Petr. He will sure come: are ye all well armed? Ant. Never fear us : [fiddle. Here's that will make 'em dance without a Petr. We are to look for no weak foes, my Nor unadvised ones. [friends, Ant. Best gamesters make the best play; We shall fight close and home them. 1st Gent. Antonio,

You are thought too bloody.

Ant. Why? All physicians And penny almanacs allow the opening Of veins this month. Why do you talk of bloody?

What come we for? to fall to cuffs for apples? What, would you make the cause a cudgelquarrel?

Petr. Speak softly, gentle cousin.
Ant. I will speak truly.

What should men do, allied to these disgraces, Lick o'er his enemy, sit down and dance him? 2d Gent. You are as far o' th' bow-hand

Stink in my neighbour's nostrils, your devices,
Your brats got out of alligant and broken oaths,
Your linsey-woolsey work, your hasty pud-
I foster up your filch'd iniquities! {dings!
You're deceived in me, Sir, I am none
Of those receivers.

[it?

John. Have I not sworn unto you, "Tis none of mine, and show'd you how I found Land. Ye found an easy fool that let you get it.

John. Will you hear me?

Land. Oaths! what care you for oaths to gain your ends;

When ye are high and pamper'd? What saint know ye?

Or what religion, but your purposed lewdness,
Is to be look'd for of ye? Nay, I will tell ye-
You will then swear like accused cut-purses,
As far off truth too; and lie beyond ali falcon-
I'm sick to see this dealing.

John. Heaven forbid, mother.
Land. Nay, I am very sick.
John. Who waits there?

Pet. [Within.] Sir!

[ers:

John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine. Land. Exceeding sick, Heaven help me! John. Haste ye, sirrah.

I must e'en make her drunk. [Aside.] Nay,

gentle mother

pose

Land. Now fy upon ye! was it for this pur[votions? You fetch'd your evening walks for your deFor this pretended holiness? No weather, Not before day, could hold you from the matins. [well, Were these your bo-peep prayers? Y'ave pray'd And with a learned zeal have watch'd well too; your saint,

It seems, was pleased as well. Still sicker, sicker!

Come, let's see your workmanship.
John. None of mine, mother:
But there 'tis, and a lusty one.

Thou hadst a hasty making: but the best is,
Land. Heaven bless thee,
'Tis many a good man's fortune. As I live,
Your own eyes, signior; and the nether lip
As like ye, as ye had spit it.

John. am glad on't.

Land. Bless me! what things are these? Was not all lost: 'tis gold, and these are John. I thought my labour Both rich and right, I hope. [jewels,

I

see y'ere a woodman, and can choose Land. Well, well, son John, Your deer, though it be i' th' dark; all your

discretion

Is not yet lost; this was well clapp'd aboard; Here I am with ye now, when, as they say, Your pleasure comes with profit; when you must needs do,

Do where you may be done to; 'tis a wisdom Becomes a young man well: be sure of one thing,

It seasons of a fool, son; time is precious, Lose not your labour and your time together; Work wary whilst you have it. Since you must traffic [signior; Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, Trade with no broken merchants; make your As you would make your rest, adventurously, lading But with advantage ever.

The child wants looking to, wants meat and John. All this time, mother, [nurses. Land. Now blessing o' thy heart, it shall

have all;

And instantly I'll seek a nurse myself, son. 'Tis a sweet child-Ah, my young Spaniard! Take you no farther care, Sir.

John. Yes, of these jewels, [yours, I must by your good leave, mother; these are To make your care the stronger; for the rest, I'll find a master; the gold for bringing up I freely render to your charge.

Land. No more words,

[on't,

Nor no more children, good son, as you love This may do well.

John. I shall observe your morals.
But where's Don Frederick, mother?
Land. Ten to one,

About the like adventure; he told me,
He was to find you out.

[me:

John. Why should he stay us? There may be some ill chance in it: sleep I will not, [pleased, Before 1 have found him. Now this woman's I'll seek my friend out, and my care is eased. [Exeunt.

Enter DUKE and three GENTLEMEN,

Ant. Is the wind there again? Fred. Be gone.

[Exit.

1st Gent. Believe, Sir, 'tis as possible to do it.

As to move the city: the main faction
Swarm through the streets like hornets, and
with augurs

Able to ruin states, no safety left us,
Nor means to die like men, if instantly
You draw not back again.

Duke. May he be drawn,

surer

And quarter'd too, that turns now; were I [death Of death than thou art o' thy fears, and with More than those fears are too

1st Gent. Sir, I fear not.

Duke. I would not break my vow, start from my honour,

Because I may find danger; wound my soul To keep my body safe.

1st Gent. I speak not, Sir, Out of a baseness to ye. Duke. No, nor do not Out of a baseness leave me. What is danger More than the weakness of our apprehensions?

A poor cold part o' th' blood. Who takes it

hold of?

In sugar-sops and sirups? Give me dying
As dying ought to be, upon mine enemy;
Parting with mankind, by a man that's
manly?

Let them be all the world, and bring along
Cain's envy with them, I will on.

2d Gent. You may, Sir,

But with what safety?

1st Gent. Since 'tis come to dying,

Ant. I am, Sir.

Fred. Now enter without fear

(I do beseech you, Sir) for all your kindness, To render with my thanks this worthless trifle

I may be longer troublesome.
Fred. Fair offices

Are still their own rewards: Heavens bless me, lady,

[ye,
From selling civil courtesies. May it please
If ye will force a favour to oblige me,
Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfy me
For what good angel I am engaged."
Con. It shall be;

For I am truly confident ye are honest.
The piece is scarce worth looking on.
Fred. Trust me,

The abstract of all beauty, soul of sweetness!
Defend me, honest thoughts, I shall grow

wild else.

What eyes are there! rather what little heavens,

To stir men's contemplation! What a Paradise Runs through each part she has! Good blood, be temperate!

I must look off: too excellent an object Confounds the sense that sees it. Noble lady, If there be any further service to cast on me, Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye, Or the engagements of whole families.

Con. Your service is too liberal, worthy Sir. Thus far I shall entreat

Fred. Command me, lady:

amongst us,

Can die as decently as other men,

And with as little ceremony. On, brave Sir. Duke. That's spoken heartily.

1st Gent. And he that flinches, May he die lousy in a ditch. Duke. No more dying

There's no such danger in't. What's o'clock ? 3d Gent. Somewhat above your hour. Duke. Away then quickly,

Make no noise, and no trouble will attend us. [Exeunt.

Enter FREDERICK and ANTHONY with a

Candle.

Con. That presently,

With all convenient haste, you will retire Unto the street you found me in.

Fred. 'Tis done.

Con. There if you find a gentleman oppress'd With force and violence, do a man's office, And draw your sword to rescue him.

Fred. He's safe,

Be what he will, and let his foes be devils,
Arm'd with your beauty I shall conjure them,
Retire, this key will guide ye: all things ne-
cessary
Are there before ye.

[Exit.

[gers:

Con. All my prayers go with ye. Fred. Ye clap on proof upon me. Men say, gold

cerns me.

He has given me my quietus est; I felt him
In my small guts; I'm sure he's feez'd me;
This comes of siding with you.

2d Gent. Can you go, Sir?

Ant. I shall go, man, and my head were off; Never talk of going.

Petr. Come, all shall be well then.

I hear more rescue coming. [Trampling within.

Enter the DUKE's faction.

Ant. Let's turn back then;

My skull's uncloven yet, let me kill.

Petr. Away, for Heaven's sake, with him.

John. How is it?

Duke. Well, Sir,

Only a little stagger'd.

[Exit cum suis.

[me, I must desire your pardon: you shall know Ere it be long, Sir, and nobler thanks, Than now my will can render. John. Your will's your own,

Sir.

Duke. What is't you look for, Sir? Have you lost any thing!

John. Only my hat i' th' scuffle; sure these Were night-snaps. [fellows Duke. No, believe me, Sir: pray use mine, For 'twill be hard to find your own now. John. No, Sir.

Duke. Indeed you shall; I can command I do beseech you honour me. [another :

John. Well, Sir, then I will, And so I'll take my leave.

Duke. Within these few days

I hope I shall be happy in your knowledge, Till when I love your memory. [Exit cum suis. Enter FREDERICK.

Fred. What is't?

Thou hast lost nothing?

John. No, I have got, I tell thee.

Fred. What hast thou got?

John. One of the infantry, a child.
Fred. How!

John. A chopping child, man.

Fred. Give you joy, Sir.

John. A lump of lewdness, Frederick; that's

the truth on't.

This town's abominable.

Fred. I still told ye, John,

[ye:

Your whoring must come home; I counsell'd But where no grace is—

John. 'Tis none of mine, man.
Fred. Answer the parish so.
John. Cheated in troth

(Peeping into a house) by whom I know not,
Nor where to find the place again; no, Fre-
'Tis no poor one,
[derick,
That's my best comfort, for 't has brought

about it

Enough to make it man.

Fred. Where is't?
John. At home.

Fred. A saving voyage; but what will you say, Signior,

To him that searching out your serious worship, Has met a strange fortune?

John. How, good Frederick?

A militant girl to this boy would hit it.

John. Tell me,

And tell me true, is the cause honourable, Or for your ease?

Fred. By all our friendship, John, 'Tis honest and of great end. John. I'm answer'd;

[open

you think, Sir,

Of a distressed lady, one whose beauty
Would oversell all Italy?

John. Where is she?

Fred. A woman of that rare behaviour,

So qualified, as admiration

Dwells round about her; of that perfect spirit

John. Ay, marry, Sir.

Fred. That admirable carriage,

[morning,

That sweetness in discourse; young as the

Her blushes staining his.

John. But where's this creature?

Show me but that.

Fred. That's all one; she's forthcoming.

I have her sure, boy.

John. Hark ye, Frederick;

What truck betwixt my infant?

[well.

Fred. "Tis too light, Sir;

Stick to your charge, good Don John; I am
John. But is there such a wench?
Fred. First tell me this;

Did you not lately, as you walk'd along,
Discover people that were armed, and likely

To do offence?

John. Yes, marry, and they urged it As far as they had spirit.

Fred. Pray go forward.

John. A gentleman I found engaged

amongst 'em.

It seems of noble breeding, I'm sure brave

metal;

As I returned to look you, I set into him,
And without hurt, I thank Heaven, rescued

him.

Fred. My work's done then;

And now to satisfy you, there is a woman-
Oh, John, there is a woman—

John. Oh, where is she?

Fred. And one of no less worth than I told; And which is more, fallen under my protec

tion.

Ant. Without all doubt, Peter.

Pet. Then this must be the devil.
Ant. Let it be.

Peter, believe it, a most delicate devil,
Good devil, sing again: O dainty devil,
The sweetest devil-

Enter FREDERICK and DON JOHN.

John. Basco.

Fred. What makes you up so early, Sir?

John. You, Sir, in your contemplations? Pet. O pray ye peace, Sir!

Fred. Why peace, Sir?

Pet. Do you hear?

[making.

We all know

Ant. Not I.

A woman's oaths are wafers, aud break with They must for modesty a little:

it.

Fred. No, I'll assure ye, Sir.
John. Not see her!

[derick, I smell an old dog-trick of yours. Well, FreYe talk'd to me of whoring; let's have fair Square-dealing, I would wish ye. [play, Fred. When 'tis come

(Which I know never will be) to that issue, Your spoon shall be as deep as mine, Sir.