Enter Land-lady, and Peter.
Land. Come, ye do know.
Pet. I do not by this hand Mistris.
But I suspect.
Land. What?
Peter. That if egges continue
At this price, women will ne're be sav'd
By their good works.
Land. I will know.
Peter. Ye shall, any thing
Lyes in my power: The Duke of Loraine now
Is seven thousand strong: I heard it of a fish-wife,
A woman of fine knowledge.
Land. Sirrah, Sirrah.
Pet. The Popes Bulls are broke loose too, and 'tis suspected
They shall be baited in England.
Land. Very well Sir.
Peter. No, 'tis not so well neither.
Land. But I say to ye,
Who is it keeps your Master company?
Peter. I say to you, Don John.
Land. I say what woman?
Peter. I say so too.
Land. I say again, I will know.
Peter. I say 'tis fit ye should.
Land. And I tell thee
He has a woman here.
Peter. And I tell thee
'Tis then the better for him.
Land. You are no Bawd now?
Peter. Would I were able to be call'd unto it:
A worshipfull vocation for my elders;
For as I understand it is a place
Fitting my betters far.
Land. Was ever Gentlewoman
So frumpt off with a fool? well sawcy Sirrah,
I will know who it is, and for what purpose;
I pay the rent, and I will know how my house
Comes by these Inflammations: if this geer hold,
Best hang a sign-post up, to tell the Signiors,
Here ye may have lewdness at Liverie.
Enter Frederick.
Peter. 'Twould be a great ease to your age.
Fred. How now?
Why what's the matter Land-lady?
Land. What's the matter?
Ye use me decently among ye Gentlemen.
Fred. Who has abus'd her, you Sir?
Land. 'Ods my witness
I will not be thus treated, that I will not.
Peter. I gave her no ill language.
Land. Thou lyest lewdly,
Thou tookst me up at every word I spoke,
As I had been a Mawkin, a flurt Gillian;
And thou thinkst, because thou canst write and read,
Our noses must be under thee.
Fred. Dare you Sirrah?
Pet. Let but the truth be known Sir, I beseech ye,
She raves of wenches, and I know not what Sir.
Lan. Go to, thou know'st too well, thou wicked varlet,
Thou instrument of evil.
Peter. As I live Sir,
She is ever thus till dinner.
Fred. Get ye in,
I'le answer you anon Sir.
Peter. By this hand
I'le break your Posset pan. [Exit.
Land. Then by this hood
I'le lock the meat up.
Fred. Now your grief, what is't?
For I can ghesse—
Land. Ye may with shame enough,
If there were shame amongst ye; nothing thought on,
But how ye may abuse my house? not satisfi'd
With bringing home your Bastards to undoe me,
But you must drill your whores here too? my patience
(Because I bear, and bear, and carry all,
And as they say am willing to groan under)
Must be your make-sport now.
Fred. No more of these words,
Nor no more murmurings Lady: for you know
That I know something. I did suspect your anger,
But turn it presently and handsomely,
And bear your self discreetly to this woman,
For such an one there is indeed.
Land. 'Tis well son.
Fre. Leaving your devils Matins, and your melancholies,
Or we shall leave our lodgings.
Land. You have much need
To use these vagrant ways, and to much profit:
Ye had that might content
(At home within your selves too) right good Gentlemen,
Wholsome, and ye said handsom: But you gallants,
Beast that I was to believe ye—
Fred. Leave your suspicion:
For as I live there's no such thing.
Land. Mine honour;
And 'twere not for mine honour.
Fred. Come, your honour,
Your house, and you too, if you dare believe me,
Are well enough: sleek up your self, leave crying,
For I must have ye entertain this Lady
With all civility, she well deserves it,
Together with all secresie: I dare trust ye,
For I have found ye faithfull: when you know her,
You will find your own fault: no more words, but do it.
Land. You know you may command me.
Enter Don John.
John. Worshipful Lady,
How does thy velvet Scabbard? by this hand
Thou lookst most amiably, now could I willingly,
And 'twere not for abusing thy Geneva print there,
Venture my Body with thee.
Land. You'll leave this Roguery
When you come to my years.
John. By this light
Thou art not above fifteen yet, a meer Girl,
Thou hast not half thy teeth: come—
Fred. Prithee John
Let her alone, she has been vex'd already;
She'll grow stark mad, man.
John. I would see her mad,
An old mad woman—
Fred. Prithee be patient.
John. Is like a Millers Mare, troubled with tooth-ach.
She'll make the rarest faces.
Fred. Go, and do it,
And do not mind this fellow.
Land. Well, Don John,
There will be times again; when O good Mother,
What's good for a Carnosity in the Bladder?
O the green water, Mother.
John. Doting take ye;
Do ye remember that?
Fred. She has paid ye now, Sir.
Land. Clary, sweet mother, clary.
Fred. Are ye satisfied?
Land. I'll never whore again, never give petticoats
And Wastcoats at five pound apiece: good mother,
Quickly mother; now mock on Son.
John. A Devil grind your old Chaps. [Exit Landlady.
Fred. By this hand, wench,
I'll give thee a new hood for this.
Has she met with your Lordship?
John. Touch-wood take her.
Enter A[n]thony.
She's a rare ghostly Mother.
Ant. Below attends ye
The Gentlemans man, Sir, that was with you.
John. Well, Sir;
My time is come then; yet if my project hold,
You shall not stay behind; I'll rather trust
Enter Constantia.
A Cat with sweet milk, Frederick; by her face,
I feel her fears are working.
Const. Is there no way,
I do beseech ye think yet, to divert
This certain danger?
Fred. 'Tis impossible;
Their Honours are engag'd.
Const. Then there must be murther,
Which, Gentlemen, I shall no sooner hear of,
Than make one in't: you may if you please, Sir,
Make all go less yet.
John. Lady, were't mine own Cause,
I could dispense; but loaden with my friends trust,
I must go on; though general massacres
As much I fear—
Const. Do ye hear, Sir; for Heavens pity
Let me request one love of you.
Fred. Yes, any thing.
Const. This Gentleman I find too resolute,
Too hot and fiery for the Cause; as ever
You did a vertuous deed, for honours sake
Go with him, and allay him; your fair temper
And noble disposition, like wish'd showrs,
May quench those eating fires, that would spoil all else.
I see in him destruction.
Fred. I will do it;
And 'tis a wise consideration,
To me a bounteous favour, hark ye, John;
I will go with ye.
John. No.
Fred. Indeed I will,
Ye go upon a hazard; no denial,
For as I live, I'll go.
John. Then make ye ready,
For I am straight o' horse-back.
Fred. My Sword on,
I am as ready as you; what my best labour,
With all the art I have can work upon 'em,
Be sure of, and expect fair end; the old Gentlewoman
Shall wait upon you; she is both grave and private,
And ye may trust her in all points.
Const. You are noble;
And so I kiss your hand.
John. That seal for me too,
And I hope happy issue, Lady.
Const. All Heavens Care upon ye, and my Prayers.
John. So,
Now my mind's at rest.
Fred. Away, 'tis late, John. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Antonio, a Surgeon, and 2 Gentlemen.
1 Gent. Come, Sir, be hearty, all the worst is past.
Ant. Give me some Wine.
Ant. 'Tis a Horse, Sir.
To be drest to the tune of Ale only!
Nothing but sawces to my sores!
2 Gent. Fie, Antonio,
You must be govern'd.
Ant. H'as given me a damn'd Clyster,
Only of sand and snow water, Gentlemen,
Has almost scour'd my guts out.
Sur. I have giv'n you that, Sir,
Is fittest for your state.
Ant. And here he feeds me
With rotten ends of Rooks, and drown'd Chickens,
Stew'd Pericraniums, and Pia-maters;
And when I go to bed (by Heaven 'tis true Gentlemen)
He rolls me up in Lints, with Labels at 'em,
That I am just the man i'th' Almanack,
In Head and Face, is Aries place.
Sur. Will't please ye
To let your friends see you open'd?
Ant. Will't please you, Sir,
To let me have a wench? I feel my Body
Open enough for that yet.
Sur. How, a Wench?
Ant. Why look ye, Gentlemen; thus I am us'd still,
I can get nothing that I want.
1 Gent. Leave these things,
And let him open ye.
Ant. D'ye hear, Surgeon?
Send for the Musick, let me have some pleasure
To entertain my friends, besides your Sallads,
Your green salves, and your searches, and some Wine too,
That I may only smell to it; or by this light
I'll dye upon thy hand, and spoil thy custome.
1 Gent. Let him have Musick.
Enter Rowl. with Wine.
Sur. 'Tis in the house, and ready,
If he will ask no more but Wine— [Musick.
2 Gent. He shall not drink it.
Sur. Will these things please ye?
Ant. Yes, and let 'em sing
John Dorrie.
2 Gent. 'Tis too long.
Ant. I'll have John Dorrie,
For to that warlike tune I will be open'd:
Give me some drink, have ye stopt the leaks well, Surgeon,
All will run out else?
Surg. Fear not.
Ant. Sit down, Gentlemen:
And now advance your Plaisters. [Song of John Dorrie.
Give 'em ten shillings, friends; how do ye find me?
What symptoms do you see now?
Surg. None, Sir, dangerous;
But if you will be rul'd—
Ant. What time?
Surg. I can cure you
In forty days, if you will not transgress me.
Ant. I have a Dog shall lick me whole in twenty;
In how long canst thou kill me?
Surg. Presently.
Ant. Do it, there's more delight in't.
1 Gent. You must have patience.
Ant. Man, I must have business; this foolish fellow
Hinders himself; I have a dozen Rascals
To hurt within these five days; good man-mender,
Stop me with some Parsley, like stuft Beef,
And let me walk abroad.
Surg. Ye shall walk shortly.
Ant. For I must find Petrucchio.
2 Gent. Time enough.
1 Gent. Come, lead him in, and let him sleep: within these three days
We'll beg ye leave to play.
2 Gent. And then how things fall,
We'll certainly inform ye.
Ant. But Surgeon, promise me
I shall drink Wine then too.
Surg. A little temper'd.
Ant. Nay, I'll no tempering, Surgeon.
Surg. Well, as't please ye,
So ye exceed not.
Ant. Farewell: and if ye find
The mad Slave that thus slash'd me, commend me to him,
And bid him keep his Skin close.
1 Gent. Take your rest, Sir. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Constantia, and Land-lady.
Const. I have told ye all I can, and more than yet
Those Gentlemen know of me; ever trusting
Your Counsel and Concealment; for to me
You seem a worthy Woman; one of those
Are seldome found in our Sex, wise and vertuous,
Direct me I beseech ye.
Land. Ye say well, Lady,
And hold ye to that point, for in these businesses
A Womans Counsel that conceives the matter,
(Do ye mark me? that conceives the matter, Lady)
Is worth ten mens engagements: She knows something,
And out of that can work like Wax; when men
Are giddy-headed, either out of Wine,
Or a more Drunkenness, vain Ostentation,
Discovering all; there is no more keep in 'em
Than hold upon an Eeles tail; Nay, 'tis held fashion
To defame now all they can.
Const. I, but these Gentlemen—
Land. Do not you trust to that; these Gentlemen
Are as all Gentlemen of the same Barrel;
I, and the self same pickle too. Be it granted,
They have us'd ye with respect and fair behaviour,
Ere since ye came, do you know what must follow?
They are Spaniards, Lady, Gennets of high mettle,
Things that will thrash the Devil, or his Dam,
Let 'em appear but cloven.
Const. Now Heaven bless me.
Land. Mad Colts will court the wind; I know 'em, Lady,
To the least hair they have; and I tell you,
Old as I am, let but the pint pot bless 'em,
They'll offer to my years—
Land. Such rude gambols—
Const. To you?
Land. I, and so handle me, that oft I am forc'd
To fight of all four for my safety; there's the younger,
Don John, the arrantest Jack in all this City;
The other, Time has blasted, yet he will stoop,
If not o'rflown, and freely on the quarry;
Has been a Dragon in his days. But Tarmont,
Don Jenkin is the Devil himself, the dog-days,
The most incomprehensible Whore-master,
Twenty a night is nothing; Beggars, Broom-women,
And those so miserable, they look like famine,
Are all sweet Ladies in his drink.
Const. He's a handsome Gentleman;
Pity he should be master of such follies.
Land. He's ne'r without a noise of Sirynges
In's Pocket, those proclaim him; birding Pills,
Waters to cool his Conscience, in small Viols:
With thousand such sufficient emblems; the truth is,
Whose Chastity he chops upon he cares not,
He flies at all; Bastards upon my conscience,
He has now in making, multitudes; the last night
He brought home one; I pity her that bore it,
But we are all weak Vessels, some rich Woman
(For wise I dare not call her) was the mother,
For it was hung with Jewels; the bearing Cloath
No less than Crimson Velvet.
Const. How?
Land. 'Tis true, Lady.
Const. Was it a Boy too?
Land. A brave Boy; deliberation
And judgment shew'd in's getting, as I'll say for him,
He's as well paced for that sport—
Const. May I see it?
For there is a neighbour of mine, a Gentlewoman,
Has had a late mischance, which willingly
I would know further of; now if you please
To be so courteous to me.
Land. Ye shall see it:
But what do ye think of these men now ye know 'em,
And of the cause I told ye of? Be wise,
Ye may repent too late else; I but tell you
For your own good, and as you will find it, Lady.
Const. I am advis'd.
Land. No more words then; do that,
And instantly, I told ye of, be ready;
Don John, I'll fit you for your frumps.
Const. I shall be:
But shall I see this Child?
Land. Within this half hour,
Let's in, and there think better; she that's wise,
Leaps at occasion first; the rest pay for it. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Petrucchio, Don John, and Frederick.
John. Sir, he is worth your knowledg, and a Gentleman
If I that so much love him, may commend him,
Of free and vertuous parts; and one, if foul play
Should fall upon us, for which fear I brought him,
Will not flye back for phillips.
Pet. Ye much honour me,
And once more I pronounce ye both mine.
Fred. Stay, what Troop
Is that below i' th' Valley there?
John. Hawking I take it.
Pet. They are so; 'tis the Duke, 'tis even he, Gentlemen,
Sirrah, draw back the Horses till we call ye,
I know him by his Company.
Fred. I think too
He bends up this way.
Pet. So he does.
John. Stand you still
Within that Covert till I call: you, Frederick,
By no means be not seen, unless they offer
To bring on odds upon us; he comes forward,
Here will I wait him fairly: to your Cabins.
Pet. I need no more instruct ye?
John. Fear me not,
I'le give it him, and boldly. [Ex. Pet. and Fred.
Enter Duke and his faction.
Duke. Feed the Hawks up,
We'll flie no more to day, O my blest fortune!
Have I so fairly met the man?
John. Ye have, Sir,
And him you know by this.
Duke. Sir all the honour,
And love—
John. I do beseech your Grace stay there,
(For I know you too now) that love and honour
I come not to receive; nor can you give it,
Till ye appear fair to the world; I must beseech ye
Dismiss your train a little.
Duke. Walk aside,
And out of hearing I command ye: Now, Sir.
John. Last time we met, I was a friend.
Duke. And Nobly,
You did a friends office: let your business
Be what it may, you must be still—
John. Your pardon,
Never a friend to him, cannot be friend
To his own honour.
Duke. In what have I transgress'd it?
Ye make a bold breach at the first, Sir.
John. Bolder,
You made that breach that let in infamy,
And ruine, to surprise a noble stock.
Duke. Be plain, Sir.
John. I will, and short;
Ye have wrong'd a Gentleman,
Little behind your self, beyond all justice,
Beyond mediation of all friends.
Duke. The man, and manner of wrong?
John. Petrucchio,
The wrong, ye have Whor'd his Sister.
Duke. What's his will in't?
John. His will is to oppose you like a Gentleman,
And single, to decide all.
Duke. Now stay you, Sir,
And hear me with the like belief: this Gentleman,
His Sister that you nam'd, 'tis true I have long lov'd,
Nor was that love lascivious, as he makes it;
As true, I have enjoy'd her: no less truth,
I have a Child by her: but that she, or he,
Or any of that family are tainted,
Suffer disgrace, or ruin, by my pleasures,
I wear a Sword to satisfie the world no,
And him in this cause when he please; for know, Sir,
She is my Wife, contracted before Heaven,
(Witness I owe more tye to, than her Brother)
Nor will I flye from that name, which long since
Had had the Churches approbation,
But for his jealous danger.
John. Sir, your pardon,
And all that was my anger, now my service.
Duk. Fair Sir, I knew I should convert ye; had we
But that rough man here now too—
John. And ye shall, Sir,
Whoa, hoa, hoo.
Duke. I hope ye have laid no Ambush?
Enter Petrucchio.
John. Only friends.
Duke. My noble Brother welcome:
Come put your anger off, we'll no fighting,
Unless you will maintain I am unworthy
To bear that name.
Pet. Do you speak this heartily?
Duke. Upon my soul, and truly; the first Priest
Shall put you out of these doubts.
Pet. Now I love ye;
And I beseech you pardon my suspicions,
You are now more than a Brother, a brave friend too.
John. The good man's over-joy'd.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. How, how, how goes it?
John. Why, the man has his Mare again, and all's well, Frederick,
The Duke professes freely he's her Husband.
Fred. 'Tis a good hearing.
John. Yes, for modest Gentlemen.
I must present ye: may it please your Grace,
To number this brave Gentleman, my friend,
And noble kinsman, amongst those your servants.
Duke. O my brave friend! you shower your bounties on me
Amongst my best thoughts, Signior, in which number
You being worthily dispos'd already,
May place your friend to honour me.
Fred. My love, Sir,
And where your Grace dares trust me, all my service.
Pet. Why! this is wondrous happy: But now Brother,
Now comes the bitter to our sweet: Constantia.
Duke. Why, what of her?
Pet. Nor what, nor where, do I know!
Wing'd with her fears last night, beyond my knowledge,
She quit my house, but whither—
Fred. Let not that—
Duke. No more good Sir, I have heard too much.
Pet. Nay sink not,
She cannot be so lost.
John. Nor shall not, Gentlemen;
Be free again, the Lady's found; that smile, Sir,
Shews ye distrust your Servant.
Duke. I do beseech ye.
John. Ye shall believe me: by my soul she is safe.
Duke. Heaven knows, I would believe, Sir.
Fred. Ye may safely.
John. And under noble usage: this fair Gentleman
Met her in all her doubts last night, and to his Guard,
(Her fears being strong upon her) she gave her person,
Who waited on her to our lodging; where all respect,
Civil and honest service now attend her.
Pet. Ye may believe now.
Duke. Yes, I do, and strongly:
Well my good friends, or rather my good Angels,
For ye have both preserv'd me; when these vertues
Dye in your friends remembrance—
John. Good your Grace,
Lose no more time in complement, 'tis too precious,
I know it by my self there can be no Hell
To his that hangs upon his hopes; especially
In way of lustly pleasures.
Pet. He has hit it.
Fred. To horse again then, for this night I'le crown
With all the joyes ye wish for.
Pet. Happy Gentlemen. [Exeunt.
Enter Francisco.
Fran. This is the maddest mischief: never fool
Was so fob'd off, as I am; made ridiculous,
And to my self mine own Ass: trust a Woman?
I'le trust the Devil first; for he dare be
Better than's word sometime: what faith have I broke?
In what observance fail'd? Let me consider,
Enter Don John, and Frederick.
For this is monstrous usage.
Fred. Let them talk,
We'll ride on fair and softly.
Fran. Well, Constantia.
Fred. Constantia, what's this fellow? stay by all means.
Fran. Ye have spun your self a fair thread now.
Fred. Stand still, John.
Fran. What cause had you to fly? what fear possest ye?
Were you not safely lodg'd from all suspicion?
Us'd with all gentle means? did any know
How ye came thither, or what your sin was.
Fred. John,
I smell some juggling, John.
John. Yes, Frederick, I fear it will be found so.
Fran. So strangely,
Without the counsel of your friends; so desperately
To put all dangers on ye?
Fred. 'Tis she.
Fran. So deceitfully,
After a strangers lure!
John. Did ye mark that, Frederick?
Fran. To make ye appear more monster; and the Law
More cruel to reward ye? to leave all,
All that should be your safegard, to seek evils?
Was this your wisdom? this your promise? well,
He that incited ye—
Fred. Mark that too.
John. Yes Sir.
Fran. 'Had better have plough'd farther off; now Lady,
What will your last friend, he that should preserve ye,
And hold your credit up, the brave Antonio,
Think of this slip? he'll to Petrucchio,
And call for open justice.
John. 'Tis she, Frederick.
Fred. But what that he is, John?
Fra. I do not doubt yet
To bolt ye out, for I know certainly
Ye are about the Town still: ha, no more words. [Exit.
Fred. Well.
John. Very well.
Fred. Discreetly.
John. Finely carried.
Fred. You have no more of these tricks?
John. Ten to one, Sir,
I shall meet with 'em if ye have.
Fred. Is this honest?
John. Was it in you a friends part to deal double?
I am no Ass Don Frederick.
Fred. And Don John,
It shall appear I am no fool;
Disgrace me to make your self a lecher?
'Tis boyish, 'tis base.
John. 'Tis false, and most unmanly to upbraid me,
Nor will I be your bolster, Sir.
Fre. Thou wanton boy, thou hadst better have been Eunuch,
Thou common womans courtesie, than thus
Lascivious, basely to have bent mine honour.
A friend? I'[l]e make a horse my friend first.
John. Holla, holla,
Ye kick too fast, Sir: what strange brains have you got,
That dare crow out thus bravely? I better been an Eunuch?
I privy to this dog trick? clear your self,
For I know where the wind sits, and most nobly,
Or as I have a life—
Fred. No more: they're horses. [A noise within like horses.
Nor shew no discontent: to morrow comes;
Let's quietly away: if she be at home,
Our jealousies are put off.
John. The fellow,
Enter Duke, Petrucchio.