Enter Duke, pursued by Petruccio, Antonio,
and that Faction.
Duke. You will not all oppress me?
Ant. Kill him i'th' wanton eye: let me come to him.
Duke. Then ye shall buy me dearly.
Petr. Say you so Sir?
Ant. I say cut his Wezand, spoil his piping;
Have at your love-sick heart Sir.
Enter Don John.
John. Sure 'tis fighting.
My friend may be engag'd: fie Gentlemen,
This is unmanly odds.
Ant. I'le stop your mouth Sir.
[Du. fals down, Don John bestrides him.
John. Nay, then have at thee freely:
There's a plumb Sir to satisfie your longing.
Petr. Away: I hope I have sped him: here comes rescue,
We shall be endangered: where's Antonio?
Ant. I must have one thrust more Sir.
John. Come up to me.
Ant. A mischief confound your fingers.
Petr. How is't?
Ant. Well:
Ha's given me my quietus est, I felt him
In my small guts, I'me sure, has feez'd me:
This comes of siding with ye.
2 Gent. Can you go Sir?
Ant. I should go man, and my head were off,
Never talk of going.
Petr. Come, all shall be well then,
I hear more rescue coming.
Enter the Dukes Faction.
Ant. Let's turn back then;
My skull's uncloven yet, let me but kill.
Petr. Away for Heaven sake with him.
John. How is't?
Duke. Well Sir,
Only a little stagger'd.
Faction Duke. Let's pursue 'em.
Du. No not a man, I charge ye: thanks good coat,
Thou hast sav'd me a shrewd welcom: 'twas put home too,
With a good mind I'me sure on't.
John. Are ye safe then?
Duke. My thanks to you brave Sir, whose timely valour,
And manly courtesie came to my rescue.
John. Ye'had foul play offer'd ye, and shame befal him
That can pass by oppression.
Duke. May I crave Sir,
But thus much honour more, to know your name?
And him I am so bound to?
John. For the Bond Sir,
'Tis every good mans tye: to know me further
Will little profit ye; I am a stranger,
My Country Spain; my name Don John, a Gentleman
That lye here for my study.
Duke. I have heard Sir,
Much worthy mention of ye, yet I find
Fame short of what ye are.
John. You are pleas'd Sir,
To express your courtesie: may I demand
As freely what you are, and what mischance
Cast you into this danger?
Duke. For this present
I must desire your pardon: you shall know me
E're it be long Sir, and a 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 fellows
Were night-snaps.
Duke. No, believe Sir: pray ye use mine,
For 'twill be hard to find your own now.
John. No Sir.
Du. Indeed ye shall, I can command another:
I do beseech ye honour me.
John. I will Sir,
And so I'le take my leave.
Duke. Within these few days
I hope I shall be happy in your knowledge,
Till when I love your memory. [Exit Duke, &c.
John. I yours.
This is some noble fellow.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. 'Tis [h]is tongue sure.
Don John?
John. Don Frederick?
Fred. Ye're fairly met Sir:
I thought ye had been a Bat-fowling: prethee tell me,
What Revelations hast thou had to night,
That home was never thought of?
John. Revelations?
I'le tell thee Frederick, but before I tell thee,
Settle thy understanding.
Fred. 'Tis prepar'd, Sir.
John. Why then mark what shall follow. This night Frederick,
This bawdy night.
Fred. I thought no less.
John. This blind night,
What dost think I have got?
Fred. The Pox it may be.
John. Would 'twere no worse: ye talk of Revelations,
I have got a Revelation will reveal me
An arrant Coxcomb while I live.
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 ye joy, Sir.
John. A lump of lewdness Frederick, that's the truth on't:
This Town's abominable.
Fred. I still told ye John
Your whoring must come home; I counsell'd ye:
But where no grace is—
John. 'Tis none o' mine, man.
Fred. Answer the Parish so.
John. Cheated introth:
Peeping into a house, by whom I know not,
Nor where to find the place again: no Frederick,
Had I but kist the ring for't; 'tis no poor one,
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 stranger fortune?
John. How, good Frederick?
A militant girle now to this boy would hit it?
Fred. No, mine's a nobler venture: What do 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. I marry Sir.
Fred. That admirable carriage,
That sweetness in discourse; young as the morning,
Her blushes staining his.
John. But where's this creature?
Shew me but that.
Fred. That's all one, she's forth-coming,
I have her sure Boy.
John. Hark ye Frederick,
What truck betwixt my Infant?
Fred. 'Tis too light Sir,
Stick to your charges good Don John, I am well.
John. But is there such a wench?
Fred. First tell me this,
Did ye not lately as ye walk'd along,
Discover people that were arm'd, and likely
To do offence?
John. Yes marry, and they urg'd it
As far as they had spirit.
Fred. Pray go forward.
Joh. A Gentleman I found ingag'd amongst 'em,
It seems of noble breeding, I'm sure brave metal,
As I return'd to look you, I set in to him,
And without hurt (I thank heaven) rescued him,
And came my self off safe too.
Fred. My work's done then:
And now to satisfie 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 assure ye;
And which is more, fain under my protection.
John. I am glad of that: forward sweet Frederick.
Fred. And which is more than that, by this nights wandring,
And which is most of all, she is at home too Sir.
John. Come, let's be gone then.
Fred. Yes, but 'tis most certain,
You cannot see her, John.
John. Why?
Fred. She has sworn me
That none else shall come near her: not my Mother,
Till some few doubts are clear'd.
John. Not look upon her? What chamber is she in?
Fred. In ours.
John. Let's go I say:
A womans oaths are wafers, break with making,
They must for modestie a little: we all know it.
Fred. No, I'le assure you Sir.
John. Not see her?
I smell an old dog trick of yours, well Frederick,
Ye talkt to me of whoring, let's have fair play,
Square dealing I would wish ye.
Fred. When 'tis come,
(Which I know never will be) to that issue,
Your spoon shall be as deep as mine Sir.
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 am answer'd:
But let me see her though: leave the door open
As ye go in.
Fred. I dare not.
John. Not wide open,
But just so, as a jealous husband
Would level at his wanton wife through.
Fred. That courtesie,
If ye desire no more, and keep it strictly,
I dare afford ye: come, 'tis now near morning. [Exit.
SCENE II.
Enter Peter, and Anthony.
Pet. Nay the old woman's gone too.
Ant. She's a Catterwauling
Among the gutters: But conceive me, Peter,
Where our good Masters should be?
Pet. Where they should be
I do conceive, but where they are, good Anthony—
Ant. I, there it goes: my Masters bo-peep with me,
With his slye popping in and out again,
Argued a cause, a frippery cause.
Pet. Believe me,
They bear up with some carvel.
Ant. I do believe thee,
For thou hast such a Master for that chase,
That till he spend his main Mast—
Pet. Pray remember
Your courtesie good Anthony, and withal,
How long 'tis since your Master sprung a leak,
He had a sound one since he came. [Lute sounds within.
Ant. Hark.
Pet. What?
Ant. Dost not hear a Lute?
Again?
Pet. Where is't?
Ant. Above in my Masters chamber.
Pet. There's no creature: he hath the key himself man.
SING within.
Merciless Love, whom nature hath deny'd
The use of eyes, lest thou should'st take a pride
And glorie in thy murthers: Why am I
That never yet transgress'd thy deity,
Never broke vow, from whose eyes never
Flew disdainfull dart
Whose hard heart never,
Slew those rewarders?
Thou art young and fair,
Thy Mother soft and gentle as the air,
Thy holy fire still burning, blown with praier.
Then everlasting Love restrain thy will
'Tis God-like to have power but not to kill.
Ant. This is his Lute: let him have it.
Pet. I grant you; but who strikes it?
Ant. An admirable voice too, hark ye.
Pet. Anthony,
Art sure we are at home?
Ant. Without all doubt, Peter.
Pet. Then this must be the Devil.
Ant. Let it be, [Sing again.
Good Devil sing again: O dainty Devil!
Peter believe it, a most delicate Devil,
The sweetest Devil—
Enter Frederick, and Don John.
Fred. If ye could leave peeping.
John. I cannot by no means.
Fred. Then come in softly,
And as ye love your faith, presume no further
Than ye have promised.
John. Basta.
Fred. What make 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?
John. 'Tis your Lute.
Fred. Pray ye speak softly,
She's playing on't.
Ant. The house is haunted Sir,
For this we have heard this half year.
Fred. Ye saw nothing?
Ant. Not I.
Pet. Nor I Sir.
Fred. Get us our breakfast then,
And make no words on't; we'll undertake this spirit,
If it be one.
Ant. This is no Devil Peter. [Sing. Exeunt Servants.
Mum, there be Bats abroad.
Fred. Stay, now she sings.
John. An Angels voice I'le swear.
Fred. Why did'st thou shrug so?
Either allay this heat; or as I live
I will not trust ye.
John. Pass: I warrant ye. [Exeunt.
Enter Constantia.
Con. To curse those stars, that men say govern us,
To rail at fortune, fall out with my Fate,
And tax the general world, will help me nothing:
Alas, I am the same still, neither are they
Subject to helps, or hurts: Our own desires
Are our own fates, our own stars, all our fortunes,
Which as we sway 'em, so abuse, or bless us.
Enter Frederick, and Don John, peeping.
Fred. Peace to your meditations.
John. Pox upon ye,
Stand out o'th' light.
Const. I crave your mercy Sir,
My minde o're-charg'd with care made me unmannerly.
Fred. Pray ye set that mind at rest, all shall be perfect.
John. I like the body rare; a handsom body,
A wondrous handsom body: would she would turn:
See, and that spightful puppy be not got
Between me and my light again.
Fred. 'Tis done,
As all that you command shall be: the Gentleman
Is safely off all danger.
John. O de dios.
Const. How shall I thank ye Sir? how satisfie?
Fr. Speak softly, gentle Lady, all's rewarded,
Now does he melt like Marmalad.
John. Nay, 'tis certain,
Thou art the sweetest woman I e're look'd on:
I hope thou art not honest.
Fred. None disturb'd ye?
Const. Not any Sir, nor any sound came near me,
I thank your care.
Fred. 'Tis well.
John. I would fain pray now,
But the Devil and that flesh there, o' the world,
What are we made to suffer?
Fred. He'll enter;
Pull in your head and be hang'd.
John. Hark ye Frederick,
I have brought ye home your Pack-saddle.
Fred. Pox upon ye.
Con. Nay let him enter: fie my Lord the Duke,
Stand peeping at your friends.
Fred. Ye are cozen'd Lady,
Here is no Duke.
Const. I know him full well Signior.
John. Hold thee there wench.
Fred. This mad-brain'd fool will spoil all.
Const. I do beseech your grace come in.
John. My Grace,
There was a word of comfort.
Fred. Shall he enter?
Who e're he be?
John. Well follow'd Frederick.
Const. With all my heart.
Fred. Come in then.
Enter Don John.
John. 'Bless ye Lady.
Fr. Nay start not, though he be a stranger to ye,
He's of a noble strain, my kinsman, Lady,
My Country-man, and fellow Traveller,
One bed contains us ever, one purse feeds us,
And one faith free between us; do not fear him,
He's truly honest.
John. That's a lye.
Fred. And trusty:
Beyond your wishes: valiant to defend,
And modest to converse with, as your blushes.
Jo. Now may I hang my self; this commendation
Has broke the neck of all my hopes: for now
Must I cry, no forsooth, and I forsooth, and surely,
And truly as I live, and as I am honest.
Has done these things for 'nonce too; for he knows
Like a most envious Rascal as he is,
I am not honest, nor desire to be,
Especially this way: h'as watch'd his time,
But I shall quit him.
Const. Sir, I credit ye.
Fred. Go kiss her John.
John. Plague o' your commendations.
Const. Sir, I shall now desire to be a trouble.
John. Never to me, sweet Lady: Thus I seal
My faith, and all my service.
Const. One word Signior.
John. Now 'tis impossible I should be honest,
She kisses with a conjuration
Would make the Devil dance: what points she at?
My leg I warrant, or my well knit body,
Sit fast Don Frederick.
Fred. 'Twas given him by that Gentleman
You took such care of; his own being lost i'th' scuffle.
Con. With much joy may he wear it: 'tis a right one,
I can assure ye Gentleman, and right happy
May you be in all fights for that fair service.
Fred. Why do ye blush?
Const. 'T had almost cozen'd me,
For not to lye, when I saw that, I look'd for
Another Master of it: but 'tis well. [Knock within.
Fred. Who's there?
Enter Anthony.
Stand ye a little close: Come in Sir, [Exit Const.
Now what's the news with you?
Anth. There is a Gentleman without,
Would speak with Don John.
John. Who Sir?
Ant. I do not know Sir, but he shews a man
Of no mean reckoning.
Fred. Let him shew his name,
And then return a little wiser.
Ant. Well Sir. [Exit Anthony.
Fred. How do you like her John?
John. As well as you Frederick,
For all I am honest: you shall find it so too.
Fred. Art thou not honest?
John. Art thou an Ass?
And modest as her blushes? What block-head
Would e're have popt out such a dry Apologie,
For his dear friend? and to a Gentlewoman,
A woman of her youth, and delicacy.
They are arguments to draw them to abhor us.
An honest moral man? 'tis for a Constable:
A handsome man, a wholsome man, a tough man,
A liberal man, a likely man, a man
Made up like Hercules, unslak'd with service:
The same to night, to morrow night, the next night,
And so to perpetuitie of pleasures,
These had been things to hearken to, things catching:
But you have such a spic'd consideration,
Such qualms upon your worships conscience,
Such chil-blains in your bloud, that all things pinch ye,
Which nature, and the liberal world makes custom,
And nothing but fair honour, O sweet honor,
Hang up your Eunuch honour: That I was trusty,
And valiant, were things well put in; but modest!
A modest Gentleman! O wit where wast thou?
Fred. I am sorrie John.
John. My Ladies Gentlewoman
Would laugh me to a S[c]hool-boy, make me blush
With playing with my Codpiece point: fie on thee,
A man of thy discretion?
Fred. It shall be mended:
And henceforth ye shall have your due.
Enter Anthony.
John. I look for't: How now, who is't?
Ant. A Gentleman of this Town
And calls himself Petrucchio.
Enter Constantia.
John. I'le attend him.
Const. How did he call himself?
Fre. Petrucchio,
Does it concern you ought?
Const. O Gentlemen,
The hour of my destruction is come on me,
I am discover'd, lost, left to my ruine:
As ever ye had pity—
John. Do not fear,
Let the great devil come, he shall come through me:
Lost here, and we about ye?
Fred. Fall before us?
Const. O my unfortunate estate, all angers
Compar'd to his, to his—
Fred. Let his, and all mens,
Whilst we have power and life—stand up for heaven sake.
Con. I have offended heaven too; yet heaven knows—
John. We are all evil:
Yet Heaven forbid we should have our deserts.
What is he?
Con. Too too near to my offence Sir;
O he will cut me piece-meal.
Fred. 'Tis no Treason?
John. Let it be what it will, if he cut here,
I'le find him cut-work.
Fred. He must buy you dear,
With more than common lives.
John. Fear not, nor weep not:
By heaven I'le fire the Town before ye perish,
And then, the more the merrier, we'l jog with ye.
Fred. Come in, and dry your eyes.
John. Pray no more weeping:
Spoil a sweet face for nothing? my return
Shall end all this I warrant you.
Const. Heaven grant it. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Petrucchio, with a Letter.
Petr. This man should be of special rank:
For these commends carry no common way,
No slight worth with 'em:
He shall be he.
Enter Don John.
John. 'Save ye Sir: I am sorrie
My business was so unmannerly, to make ye
Wait thus long here.
Petr. Occasions must be serv'd Sir:
But is your name Don John?
John. It is Sir.
Petr. Then,
First, for your own brave sake I must embrace ye:
Next, from the credit of your noble friend
Hernando de Alvara, make ye mine:
Who lays his charge upon me in this Letter
To look ye out, and for the goodness in ye,
Whilst your occasions make ye resident
In this place, to supply ye, love and honour ye;
Which had I know[n] sooner—
John. Noble Sir,
You'l make my thanks too poor: I wear a sword, Sir,
And have a service to be still dispos'd of,
As you shall please command it.
Petr. Gentle Sir,
That manly courtesie is half my business:
And to be short, to make ye know I honour ye,
And in all points believe your worth like Oracle,
And how above my friends, which are not few,
And those not slack, I estimate your vertues,
Make your self understand, This day Petrucchio,
A man that may command the strength of this place,
Hazard the boldest spirits, hath made choice
Only of you, and in a noble office.
John. Forward, I am free to entertain it.
Petr. Thus then:
I do beseech ye mark me.
John. I shall do it.
Petr. Ferrara's Duke, would I might call him worthie,
But that he has raz'd out from his family,
As he has mine with Infamie, This man,
Rather this powerfull Monster, we being left
But two of all our house, to stock our memories,
My Sister, and my self; with arts, and witchcrafts,
Vows, and such oaths heaven has no mercy for,
Drew to dishonour this weak maid, by stealths,
And secret passages I knew not of,
Oft he obtain'd his wishes, oft abus'd her:
I am asham'd to say the rest: This purchas'd,
And his hot bloud allay'd, as friends forsake us
At a miles end upon our way, he left her,
And all our name to ruine.
John. This was foul Play,
And ought to be rewarded so.
Petr. I hope so;
He scap'd me yester-night: which if he dare
Again adventure for, Heaven pardon him,
I shall with all my heart.
John. For me, brave Signior,
What do ye intend?
Petr. Only, fair Sir, this trust,
Which from the commendations of this Letter,
I dare presume well plac'd, nobly to bear him
By word of mouth a single challenge from me,
That man to man, if he have honour in him,
We may decide all difference.
John. Fair, and noble,
And I will do it home: When shall I visite ye?
Petr. Please you this after-noon, I will ride with you:
For at a Castle six miles hence, we are sure
To find him.
John. I'le be ready.
Petr. To attend ye,
My man shall wait: with all my love. [Ex. Petr.
John. My service shall not fail ye.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. How now?
John. All's well: who dost thou think this wench is?
Ghess, and thou canst?
Fred. I cannot.
John. Be it known then,
To all men by these presents, this is she,
She, she, and only she, our curious coxcombs
Were errant two moneths after.
Fred. Who, Constantia?
Thou talk'st of Cocks and Bulls.
John. I talk of wenches,
Of cocks and Hens Don Frederick; this is the Pullet
We two went proud after.
Fred. It cannot be.
John. It shall be;
Sister to Don Petrucchio: I know all man.
Fred. Now I believe.
John. Go to, there has been stirring,
Fumbling with Linnen Frederick.
Fred. 'Tis impossible,
You know her fame was pure as fire.
John. That pure fire
Has melted out her maiden-head: she is crackt:
We have all that hope of our side, boy.
Fred. Thou tell'st me,
To my imagination, things incredible:
I see no loose thought in her.
John. That's all one,
She is loose i'th' hilts by heaven: but the world must know
A fair way, upon vow of marriage.
Fred. There may be such a slip.
John. And will be, Frederick,
Whil'st the old game's a foot: I fear the boy
Will prove hers too I took up.
Fred. Good circumstance
May cure all this yet.
John. There thou hitst it, Frederick:
Come, let's walk in and comfort her: her being here
Is nothing yet suspected: anon I'le tell thee
Wherefore her Brother came, who by this light
Is a brave noble fellow, and what honour
H'as done to me a stranger: there be Irons
Heating for some, will hiss into their heart blouds,
E're all be ended; so much for this time.
Fred. Well Sir. [Exeunt.