University of Virginia Library

Scæne 2.

Enter Peter and Anthony.
Pet.
Nay the old woman's gone too.

Ant.
Shee's a Catterwauling
Among the gutters: But conceive me, Peter,
Where our good Masters should be?

Pet.
Where they should be,
I doe 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 agen,
Argued a cause, a frippery cause.

Pet.
Beleeve me,
They bear up with some carvell.

Ant.
I doe believe thee,
For thou hast such a Master for that chase,
That till he spend his maine Mast—

Pet.
Pray remember
Your courtesie good Anthony; and withall,
How long 'tis since your Master sprung a leak,
He had a sound one since he came.

Lute sounds within.
Ant.
Harke.

Pet.
What?

Ant.
Doest not hear a Lute?
Agen?

Pet.
Where is't?

Ant.
Above in my Masters chamber.

Pet.
There's no creature: he hath the key himself man.

An.
This is his Lute: let him have it.

Pet.
I grant you; but who strikes it?

Sing within a little.
Ant.
An admirable voice too, harke ye.

Pet.
Anthony,
Art sure we are at home?

Ant.
Without all doubt, Peter.

Pet.
Then this must be the Devill.

Ant.
Let it be.
Sing agen.
Good Devill sing againe: O dainty devill,
Peter beleve it, a most delicate devill,
The sweetest Devill—

Fred.
If ye could leave peeping.

Enter Fredrick & Don Iohn.
Iohn.
I cannot by no meanes.

Fred.
Then come in softly,
And as ye love your faith, presume no further
Then yee have promised.

Ioh.
Basto.

Fr.
What make you up so early sir?

Io.
You sir in your contemplations.

Pet.
O pray ye peace sir.

Fred.
Why peace sir?

Pet.
Doe you heare?

Ioh.
'Tis your Lute.

Fred.
Pray yee speak softly.
She's playing on't.

Ant.
The house is haunted sir,
For this we have heard this halfe yeare.

Fred.
Ye saw nothing;

Ant.
Not I.

Pet.
Nor I Sir.

Fred.
Get us our breakfast then,
And make no words on't; wee'll undertake this spirit,
If it be one.

Ant.
This is no devill Peter.
Sing.
Mum, there be Bats abroad.

Exeunt Servants.
Fred.
Stay, now she sings.

Ioh.
An Angels voice Ile sweare.

Fred.
Why did'st thou shrug so?
Either allay this heat; or as I live
I will not trust ye.

Ioh.
Passe: I warrant ye.

Exeunt.
Enter Constantia.
Con.
To curse those starres, that men say governe us,
To raile at fortune, fall out with my Fate,
And taske the generall world, will helpe me nothing:
Alas, I am the same still, neither are they
Subject to helpes, or hurts: Our owne desires
Are our owne fates, our owne stars, all our fortunes,
Which as we sway 'em, so abuse, or blesse us.

Enter Fredrick, and Don John peeping.
Fred.
Peace to your meditations.

Joh.
Pox upon ye,
Stand out oth' light.

Const.
I crave your mercy sir,
My minde o're-charg'd with care made me unmannerly.

Fr.
Pray yee set that minde at rest, all shall be perfect.

Io.
I like the body rare; a handsome body,
A wondrous handsome body: would she would turne:
See, and that spightfull puppy be not got
Between me and my light againe,

Fr.
Tis done,
As all that you command shall bee: the gentleman
Is safely off all danger.

Ioh.
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.

Io.
Nay, 'tis certaine,
Thou art the sweetest woman I e're look'd on:
I hope thou art not honest.

Fred.
None disturb'd yee?

Const.
Not any sir, nor any sound came neare me,
I thank your care.

Fred.
'Tis well.

Ioh.
I would faine pray now,
But the Devill and that flesh there, o' the world,
What are we made to suffer?

Fr.
Hee'll enter;
Pull in your head and be hang'd.

Ioh.
Harke ye Fredricke,
I have brought ye home your Pack-saddle.

Fr.
Pox upon yee.

Con.
Nay let him enter: fie my Lord the Duke,
Stand peeping at your friends.

Fr.
Ye are cozen'd Lady,
Here is no Duke.

Const.
I know him full well Signior.

Ioh.
Hold thee there wench.

Fre.
This mad-brain'd foole will spoile all.

Con.
I doe beseech your grace come in.

Ioh.
My Grace,
There was a word of comfort.

Fred.
Shall he enter,
Who e're he be?

Ioh.
Well follow'd Fredrick.

Const.
With all my heart.

Fred.
Come in then.

Enter Don John.
Jo.
'Blesse yee Lady:

Fr.
Nay start not, though he be a stranger to ye,
Hee's of a Noble straine, my kinsman, Lady,
My Countrey-man, and fellow Traveller,
One bed containes us ever, one purse feeds us,
And one faith free between us; do not fear him,
Hee's truely honest.

Jo.
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 truely as I live, and as I am honest.
Has done these things for 'nonce too; for hee knowes,
Like a most envious Rascall 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.
Goe kisse her John.

Joh.
Plague o' your commendations.

Con.
Sir, I shall now desire to be a trouble.

Jo.
Never to me, sweet Lady: Thus I seale
My faith, and all my service.

Con.
One word Signeur.

Jo.
Now 'tis impossible I should be honest,
She kisses with a conjuration
Would make the devill dance: what points she at?
My leg I warrant, or my well knit body:
Sit fast Don Fredrick.

Fred.
'Twas given him by that gentleman
You took such care of, his owne being lost ith' scuffle.

Con.
With much joy may he weare it: 'tis a right one,
I can assure ye Gentleman, and right happy
May you be in all fights for that faire service.

Fred.
Why doe ye blush?

Con.
'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.

Fr.
Who's there?
Knock within. Ent. Anthony.
Stand ye a little close: Come in Sir,
Now what's the newes with you?

Anth.
There is a gentlemen without,
Would speak with Don John,

Ioh.
Who sir?

Ant.
I do not know Sir, but he shews a man
Of no meane reckoning.

Fred.
Let him shew his name,
And then returne a little wiser.

Ant.
Well Sir.
Exit Anthony.

Fred.
How doe you like her Iohn?

Ioh.
As well as you Fredrick,
For all I am honest: you shall finde it so too.

Fred.
Art thou not honest?

Ioh.
Art thou an Asse?
And modest as her blushes? What a block-head
Would e're have popt out such a dry Apologie,
For his deare friend? and to a Gentlewoman,
A woman of her youth, and delicacy.
They are arguments to draw them to abhorre us.
An honest morall man; 'tis for a Constable:
A handsome man, a wholsome man, a tough man,
A liberall 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 too, things catching:
But you have such a spiced consideration,
Such qualmes upon your worships conscience,
Such-chil-blaines in your bloud, that all things pinch ye,
Which nature, and the liberall world makes custome,
And nothing but faire honour, O sweet honour,
Hang up your Eunuch honour: That I was trusty,
And valiant, were things well put in; but modest!
A modest gentleman I ô wit where wast thou?

Fred.
I am sorrie John,

John.
My Ladies gentlewoman
Would laugh me to a Schoole-boy, make me blush
With playing with my Codpeece point: fie on thee,
A man of thy discretion?

Fred.
It shall be mended:
And henceforth yee shall have your due.

Enter Anthony.
John.
I look fort: How now, who is't?

An.
A gentleman of this towne
And calls himselfe Petruchio.

Enter Constantia.
John.
Ile attend him.

Const.
How did he call himselfe.

Fred.
Petruchio,
Doe's it concerne you ought?

Const.
O gentlemen,
The houre of my destruction is come on me,
I am discover'd, lost, left to my ruine:
As ever ye had pitty—

John.
Doe not feare,
Let the great devill 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—

Iohn.
We are all evill:
Yet heaven forbid we should have our deserts.
What is a?

Con.
Too too neare to my offence sir;
O he will cut me peece-meale.

Fred.
'Tis no Treason?

John.
Let it be what it will: if a cut here,
Ile finde him cut-worke.

Fred.
He must buy you deare,
With more than common lives.

Joh.
Feare not, nor weep not:
By heaven Ile fire the Towne before yee perish,
And then, the more the merrier, wee'll jog with yee.

Fred.
Come in, and dry your eyes.

John.
Pray no more weeping:
Spoile a sweet face for nothing? my returne
Shall end all this I warrant you.

Con.
Heaven grant it.

Exeunt.