University of Virginia Library

Actus Quartus.

Scæna prima.

Enter Duke, Petruchio, Fredrick, and Iohn.
Pet.
Now to Bollonia, my most honoured brother,
I dare pronounce ye a hearty, and safe welcome,
Our loves shall now way-lay ye; welcome Gentlemen.

Iohn.
The same to you brave Sir; Don Fredrick
Will ye step in, and give the Lady notice
Who comes to honour her?

Pet.
Bid her be suddain,
We come to see no curious wench: a night-gowne
Will serve the turne: here's one that knowes her neerer.

Fred.
I'le tell her what ye say Sir.
Ex. Fred.

Duke.
My deare brother,
Ye are a merry Gentleman.

Pet.
Now will the sport be
To observe her alterations; how like wildfire
She'll leap into your bosome; then seeing me,
Her conscience, and her feares creeping upon her
Dead as a fowle at souse, she'll sinke.

Duke.
Faire brother,
I must entreat you—

Pet.
I conceive your mind Sir,
I will not chide her: yet ten duckets Duke,
She falls upon he knees, ten more she dare not—

Duke.
I must not have her frighted.

Pet.
Well you shall not:
Enter Fred. and Peter.
But like a summers evening against heate,
Marke how I'le guild her cheekes?

Iohn.
How now.

Fred.
Ye may Sir:
Not to abuse your patience, noble friends,
Nor hold ye off with tedious circumstance,
For you must know,—

Petr.
What?

Duke.
Where is she?

Fred.
Gone Sir.

Duke.
How?

Petr.
What did you say Sir?

Fred.
Gone, by heaven removed,
The woman of the house too.

Iohn.
Well Don Fredrick.

Fred.
Don Iohn, it is not well, but—

Pet.
Gone?

Fred.
This fellow
Can testifie I lye not.

Peter.
Some foure houres after
My Master was departed with this Gentleman,
My fellow and my selfe, being sent of businesse,
(As we must thinke) of purpose—

Petr.
Hang these circumstances,
They appeare like owles, to ill ends.

Iohn.
Now could I eate
The devil in his own broath, I am so tortur'd.
Gone?

Petr.
Gone?

Fred.
Directly gone, fled, shifted: what would you have me say?

Duke.
Well Gentlemen,
Wrong not my good opinion.

Fred.
For your Dukedome
I will not be a knave Sir.

Iohn.
He that is
A rot run in his bloud.

Petr.
But harke ye Gentlemen,
Are ye sure ye had her here, did ye not dreame this.

Iohn.
Have you your nose Sir?

Petr.
Yes Sir.

Iohn.
Then we had her.

Petr.
Since you are so short, beleeve your having her
Shall suffer more construction.

Iohn.
Let it suffer,
But if I be not cleere of all dishonour,
Or practice that may taint my reputation,
And ignorant of where this woman is,
Make me your Cities monster.

Duke.
I beleeve ye.

John.
I could lye with a witch now, to be reveng'd
Upon that Rascall did this.

Fred.
Only thus much
I would desire your Grace, for my minde gives me
Before night yet she is yours: stop all opinion,
And let no anger out, till full cause call it,
Then every mans owne work's to justifie him,
And this day let us give to search: my man here
Tels me, by chance he saw out of a window
(Which place he has taken note of) such a face
As our old Landladies, he beleeves the same too,
And by her hood assures it: Let's first thether,
For she being found, all's ended.

Duke.
Come, for heavens sake,
And Fortune, and thou beest not ever turning,
If there be one firme step in all thy reelings,
Now settle it, and save my hopes: away friends.

Exeunt.

Scæne 2.

Enter Antonio and his Servant.
Ant.
With all my jewels?

Ser.
All Sir.

Ant.
And that money
I left i'th' trunke?

Ser.
The Trunke broke, and that gone too.

Ant.
Franscisco of the plot?

Ser.
Gone with the wench too.

Ant.
The mighty poxe go with 'em: belike they thought
I was no man of this world, and those trifles
Would but disturbe my conscience.

Ser.
Sure they thought Sir,
You would not live to persecute 'em.

Ant.
Whore and Fidler,
Why, what a consort have they made? Hen and bacon?
Well my sweet Mistris, well good Madam martaile?
You that have hung about my neck, and lick't me,
I'le try how handsomely your Ladyship
Can hang upon a Gallowes, there's your Master-piece;
But harke ye Sirrah, no imagination
Bawd ready above.
Of where they should be?

Ser.
None Sir, yet we have search'd
All places we suspected; I beleeve Sir,
They have taken towards the Ports.

Ant.
Get me a conjurer,
One that can raise a water devill, I'le port 'em;
Play at duck and drake with my money? take heed Fidler;
I'le dance ye by this hand, your Fidle-sticke
I'le grease of a new fashion, for presuming
To medle with my degamboys: get me a Conjurer.
Enquire me out a man that lets out devils:
None but my C. Cliffe serve your turne?

Ser.
I know not—

Ant.
In every street, Tom foole, any bleare-eyd people
With red heads, and flat noses can performe it;
Thou shalt know 'em by their half gowns & no breeches:
Mount my mare Fidler? ha boy? up at first dash?
Sit sure, I'le clap a nettle, and a smart one,
Shall make your filly firck: I will find Fidler,
I'le put you to your plundge boy: Sirrah meet me
Some two houres hence at home; In the meane time
Find out a conjurer and know his price,
How he will let his devils by the day out,
I'le have 'em, and they be above ground.
Exit Ant.

Ser.
Now blesse me,
What a mad man is this? I must do something
To please his humour: such a man I'le aske for,
And tell him where he is: but to come neare him,
Or have any thing to do with his don devills,
I thanke my feare, I dare not, nor I will not.

Exit.

Scæne 3.

Enter Duke, Petruchio, Fredrick, John, Peter, Servant with bottles.
Fred.
Whether wilt thou lead us?

Pet.
'Tis hard by sir.
And ten to one this wine goes thether.

Duke.
Forward.

Petr.
Are they growne so merry.

Duke.
'Tis most likely
She has heard of this good fortune, and determines
To wash her sorrowes off.

Pet.
'Tis so; that house sir
Is it: out of that window certainly
I saw my old Mistrisses face.

Petr.
They are merry indeed,
Musicke.
Harke I here Musicke too.

Duke.
Excellent Musick.

John.
Would I were ev'n among 'em and alone now,
A pallat for the purpose in a corner,
And good rich wine within me; what gay sport
Could I make in an houre now?

Song.
Fred.
Harke a voice too;
Let's not stir yet by any meanes.

John.
Was this her owne voyce?

Duke.
Yes sure.

Fred.
'Tis a rare one.

Enter Bawd (above)
Du.
The Song confirmes her here too: for if ye marke it,
It spake of liberty, and free enjoying
The happy end of pleasure.

Petr.
Looke ye there sir,
Do ye know that head?

Fred.
'Tis my good Landlady,
I find feare has done all this.

John.
Shee I sweare,
And now do I know by the hanging of her hood,
She is parcell drunke: shall we go in?

Duke.
Not yet Sir.

Pet.
No, let 'em take their pleasure,

Duke.
When it is highest,
Musicke.
Wee'll step in, and amaze 'em: peace more Musicke.

John.
This Musick murders me; what bloud have I now?

Fred.
I should know that face.

Enter Fran. and Exit.
John.
By this light 'tis he Fredrick,
That bred our first suspitions, the same fellow.

Fred.
He that we overtooke, and overheard too
Discoursing of Constantia.

John.
Still the same;
Now he slips in.

Du.
What's that?

Fred.
She must be here Sir:
This is the very fellow, I told your Grace
Enter Fran.
We found upon the way; and what his talke was.

Petr.
Why, sure I know this fellow; yes, 'tis he,
Francisco, Antonio's Boy, a rare Musitian,
He taught my Sister on the Lute, and is ever
(She loves his voice so well) about her: certaine,
Without all doubt she is here: it must be so.

John.
Here? that's no question: what should our hen o'th game else
Do here without her? if she be not here
(I am so confident) let your Grace beleeve,
We two are arrant Rascalls, and have abus'd ye.

Fred.
I say so too.

John.
Why there's the hood againe now,
The guard that guides us; I know the fabricke of it.
And know the old tree of that saddle yet, 'twas made of
A hunting hood, observe it.

Du.
Who shall enter?

Petr.
I'le make one.

John.
I, another.

Du.
But so carry it,
That all her joyes flow not together.

John.
If we told her,
Your Grace would none of her?

Du.
By no meanes Signior,
'Twould turne her wild, starke frantick.

Iohn.
Or assur'd her—

Du.
Nothing of that? starve nature? this ye may sir.
That the conditions of our feare yet stand
On nyce and dangerous knittings: or that a little
I seeme to doubt the child.

Iohn.
Would I could draw her
To hate your Grace with these things.

Petr.
Come let's enter,
Exit. Pet. and Ioh. Musick.
And now he sees me not, I'le search her soundly.

Du.
Now lucke of all sides.

Fred.
Doubt it not: more Musicke:
Sure she has heard some comfort.

Du.
Yes, stand still sir.

Fred.
This is the maddest song.

Du.
Applyed for certaine
Claping of a doore.
To some strange mellancholly she is loden with.

Fred.
Now all the sport begins—harke?

Du.
They are amongst 'em,
The feares now, and the shakings?

Trampling above.
Fred.
Our old Lady
(Harke how they run) is euen now at this instant
Cease Musick
Ready to loose her head peice by Don Iohn,
Or creeping through a Cat hole.

Petr. and Iohn within.
Petr.
Bring 'em downe,
And you sir, follow me.

Du.
Hee's angry with 'em,
I must not suffer this.
Bowle downe the Bawd there
Iohn within.
Old Erra mater: you Lady leachery
For the good will I beare to'th game, most tenderly
Shall be lead out, and lash'd.

Enter Petruchio, Iohn, Whore, and Bawd, with Francisco.
Du.
Is this Constantia?
Why Gentlemen? what do you meane? is this she?

Whore.
I am Constantia sir.

Du.
A Whore ye are sir.

Whore.
'Tis very true: I am a Whore indeed sir.

Petr.
She will not lye yet, though she steale.

Whore.
A plaine whore,
If you please to imploy me.

Du.
And an impudent—

Whore.
Plaine dealing now is impudence.
One if you will sir, can shew ye as much sport
In one halfe houre, and with as much variety,
As a far wiser woman can in halfe a yeare:
For there my way lies.

Du.
Is she not drunk too?

Whore.
A little guilded o're sir,
Old sack, old sacke boyes.

Petr.
This is saliant.

Iohn.
A brave bold queane.

Du.
Is this your certainty?
Do ye know the man ye wrong thus, Gentlemen?
Is this the woman meant?

Fred.
No.

Du.
That your Landlady?

Iohn.
I know not what to say.

Du.
Am I a person
To be your sport Gentlemen?

Iohn.
I do beleeve now certaine
I am a knave; but how, or when—

Du.
What are you?

Petr.
Bawd to this peece of pye meat.

Bawd.
A poore Gentlewoman
That lyes in Towne, about Law businesse,
And't like your worships.

Petr.
You shall have Law, beleeve it.

Bawd.
I'le shew your mastership my case.

Petr.
By no meanes,
I had rather see a Custard.

Bawd.
My dead husband
Left it even thus sir.

Iohn.
Blesse mine eyes from blasting,
I was never so frighted with a case.

Bawd.
And so sir—

Petr.
Enough, put up good velvet head.

Du.
What are you two now,
By your owne free confessions?

Fred.
What you shall thinke us,
Though to my selfe I am certaine, and my life
Shall make that good and perfect, or fall with it.

Io.
We are sure of nothing (Fred) that's the truth on't:
I do not think my nam's Don John, nor dare not
Beleeve any thing that concernes me, but my debts,
Nor those in way of payment: things are so carried,
What to entreat your Grace, or how to tell ye
We are, or we are not, is past my cunning,
But I would faine imagine we are honest,
And o' my conscience, I should fight in't—

Du.
Thus then,
For we may be all abus'd.

Petr.
'Tis possible,
For how should this concerne them?

Du.
Here let's part—
Untill to morrow this time: we to our way,
To make this doubt out, and you to your way;
Pawning our honours then to meet againe,
When if she be not found.

Fred.
We stand engaged
To answer any worthy way we are cald to.

Du.
We aske no more.

Whore.
Ye have done with us then?

Petr.
No Dame.

Du.
But is her name Constantia?

Petr.
Yes a moveable
Belonging to a friend of mine: come out Fidler,
What say you to this Lady; be not fearfull?

Fran.
Saving the reverence of my Masters pleasure,
I say she is a whore, and that she has robb'd him,
Hoping his hurts would kill him.

Whore.
Who provok't me?
Nay sirrah squeak, Ile see your treble strings
Ty'd up too; if I hang, Ile spoyle your piping,
Your sweet face shall not save yee.

Petr.
Thou dam'd impudence,
And thou dry'd devill; where's the Officer?

Peter.
Hee's here sir.

Enter Officer.
Petr.
Lodge these safe till I send for 'em;
Let none come to 'em, nor no noise be heard
Of where they are, or why: away.

John.
By this hand
A handsome whore: Now will I be arrested,
And brought home to this officers: a stout whore,
I love such stirring ware: pox o' this businesse,
A man must haunt out morsells for another,
And starve himself: a quick-ey'd whore, that's wild-fire,
And makes the bloud dance through the veines like billowes.
I will reprive this whore.

Duke.
Well, good luck with ye.

Fred.
As much attend your Grace.

Petr.
To morrow certaine—

John.
If we out-live this night sir.

Fred.
Come Don John,
We have something now to doe.

Ioh.
I am sure I would have.

Fred.
If she be not found, we must fight.

Joh.
I am glad on't,
I have not fought a great while.

Fred.
If we dye—

Jo.
Ther's so much money sav'd in lecherie.

Exeunt.