 | The Chances |  |
Actus primus.
Scæna prima.
Enter two Serving-men, Peter and Anthony.Peter.
I would we were remov'd from this Town, (Anthony)
That we might taste some quiet: for mine owne part,
I'me almost melted with continuall trotting
After enquiries, dreames, and revelations,
Of who knowes whom, or where? serve wenching soldiers,
That know no other Paradice but Plackets:
Ile serve a Priest in Lent first, and eate Bell-ropes.
Anth.
Thou art the froward'st foole—
Pet.
Why good tame Anthony?
Tell me but this: to what end came we hither?
An.
To wait upon our Masters.
Pet.
But how Anthony?
Answer me that; resolve me there good Anthony?
An.
To serve their uses.
Pet.
Shew your uses Anthony.
An.
To be imploy'd in any thing.
Pet.
No Anthony,
Not any thing I take it; nor that thing
We travell to discover, like new Islands;
A salt itch serve such uses; in things of moment,
Concerning things I grant yee, not things errant,
Sweet Ladies things, and things to thank the Surgeon:
In no such things, sweet Anthony, put case—
An.
Come, come, all will be mended: this invisible woman
Of infinite report for shape and vertue,
That bred us all this trouble to no purpose,
They are determin'd now no more to thinke on,
But fall close to their studies.
Pet.
Was there ever
Men knowne to run mad with report before?
Or wonder after that they know not where.
To finde? or if found, how to enjoy? are mens braines
Made now a dayes of Malt, that their affections
Are never sober? but like drunken people
Founder at every new fame? I do believe too
That men in love are ever drunke, as drunken men
Are ever loving.
An.
Prethee be thou sober,
And know, that they are none of those, not guilty
Of the least vanity of love, onely a doubt
Fame might too farre report, or rather flatter
The graces of this woman, made them curious
To finde the truth, which since they finde so blotted
And lock'd up from their searches, they are now setled
To give the wonder ever.
Pet.
Would they were setled
To give me some new shooes too: for Ile be sworne
These are e'ne worne out to the reasonable soules
In their good worships businesse: and some sleep
Would not doe much amisse, unlesse they meane
To make a Bell-man on me: and what now
Meane they to study, Anthony, Morall Philosophy
After their mar-all women?
An.
Mar a fooles head.
Pet.
'Twill mar two fools heads, & they take not heed,
Besides the Giblets to 'em.
An.
Will you walke Sir,
And talke more out of hearing? your fooles head
May chance to finde a wooden night-cap else.
Pet.
I never lay in any.
An.
Then leave your lying,
Enter Don John and Fredrick.
And your blinde Prophesying: here they come,
You had best tell them as much.
Pet.
I am no tell-tale.
Exeunt.
John.
I would we could have seen her though: for sure
She must be some rare creature, or report lyes,
All mens reports too.
Fred.
I could well wish I had seen her;
But since she is so conceal'd, so beyond venture
Kept and preserv'd from view, so like a Paradice,
Plac't where no knowledg can come near her; so guarded
As 'twere impossible, though knowne to reach her,
I have made up my beliefe.
Joh.
Hang me from this houre
If I more thinke upon her, or believe her,
But as she came a strong report unto me,
So the next Fame shall loose her.
Fred.
'Tis the next way:
But whither are you walking?
Joh.
My old round
After my meat, and then to bed.
Fred.
'Tis healthfull.
Joh.
Will not you stir?
Fred.
I have a little businesse.
Jo.
Upon my life this Lady still—
Fr.
Then you will loose it.
Jo.
Pray let's walke together.
Fr.
Now I cannot.
Jo.
I have something to impart.
Fr.
An houre hence
I will not misse to meet you.
Jo.
Where?
Fr.
Ith' high street;
For not to lye, I have a few Devotions
To doe first, then I am yours.
Jo.
Remember.
Exeunt.
Scæn. 2.
Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two Gent.Ant.
Cut his winde-pipe, I say.
1 Gent.
Fie Antonio.
Ant.
Or knock his brains out first, & then forgive him
2
A Surgeon may see through him.
1.
You are too violent,
2.
Too open, undiscreet.
Pet.
Am I not ruin'd?
The honour of my house crack'd? my bloud poyson'd?
My credit, and my name?
2.
Be sure it be so,
Before ye use this violence. Let not doubt,
And a suspecting anger so much sway ye,
Your wisedome may be question'd.
Ant.
I say kill him,
And then dispute the cause; cut off what may be,
And what is, shall be safe.
2.
Hang up a true man,
Because 'tis possible he may be theevish:
Alas, is this good Justice?
Petr.
I know as certaine,
As day must come againe; as cleare as truth.
And open as beliefe can lay it to me,
That I am basely wrong'd, wrong'd above recompence;
Malitiously abus'd, blasted for ever
In name and honour, lost to all remembrance,
But what is smear'd, and shamefull; I must kill him,
Necessitie compells me.
1.
But think better
Petr.
There is no other cure left: yet witnesse with me
All that is faire in man, all that is noble,
I am not greedy of this life I seek for,
Nor thirst to shed mans bloud; and would 'twere possible
I wish it with my soule, so much I tremble
To offend the sacred Image of my Maker,
My sword could onely kill his crimes: no 'tis honour,
Honour, my noble friends, that idoll honour,
That all the world now worships, not Petruchio
Must doe this justice.
Ant.
Let it once be done,
And 'tis no matter, whether you, or honour,
Or both be accessarie.
2.
Doe you weigh Petruchio
The value of the person, power, and greatnesse,
And what this sparke may kindle?
Petr.
To performe it,
So much I am ty'd to reputation,
And credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires,
That all this Dukedome smoak, and stormes that tosse me
Into the stormes of everlasting ruine,
Yet I must through; if yee dare side me.
Ant.
Dare?
Petr.
Ye're friends indeed, if not.
2.
Here's none flies from you,
Doe it in what designe ye please, wee'll back ye.
1.
But then be sure yee kill him.
2.
Is the cause
So mortall, nothing but his life?
Pet.
Beleeve me,
A lesse offence has been the desolation
Of a whole name.
1.
No other way to purge it?
Pet.
There is, but never to be hoped for,
2.
Thinke an houre more,
And if then ye finde no safer road to guide yee,
Wee'll set up our rests too.
Ant.
Mine's up already,
And hang him for my part,
Goes lesse than life.
2.
If we see noble cause, 'tis like our swords
May be as free and forward as your words.
Exeunt.
Scæne. 3.
Enter Don John.John.
The civill order of this Towne Bellonia
Makes it belov'd, and honour'd of all travellers,
As a most safe retirement in all troubles;
Beside the wholsome seat, and noble temper
Of those mindes that inhabit it, safely wise,
And to all strangers vertuous: But I see
My admiration has drawne night upon me,
And longer to expect my friend may pull me
Into suspition of too late a stirrer,
Which all good Governments are jealous of.
Ile home, and thinke at liberty: yet certaine,
'Tis not so farre night as I thought; for see,
A faire house yet stands open, yet all about it
Are close, and no lights stirring: there may be foule play:
Ile venture to look in: if there be knaves,
I may doe a good office.
(Woman within.
Within.
Signieur?
John.
What? how is this?
[Woman]
Within.
Signieur Fabritio?
John.
Ile goe nearer.
[Woman]
Within.
Fabritio?
Joh.
This is a womans tongue, here may be good done.
[Woman]
Within.
Who's there?
Fabritio?
Joh.
I.
[Woman]
Within.
Where are ye?
Joh.
Here.
[Woman]
Within.
O come, for heavens sake!
Joh.
I must see what this meanes,
Enter Woman with a childe.
[Woman]
Within.
I have stay'd this long houre for you, make no noise,
For things are in strange trouble: here, be secret,
'Tis worth your care; begone now; more eyes watch us,
Then may be for our safeties.
Joh.
Harke ye?
[Woman]
Within.
Peace: good night.
Joh.
She is gone, and I am loaden; fortune for me;
It weighes well, and it feeles well; it may chance
To be some pack of worth: by th'masse 'tis heavie;
If it be Coyne or Jewels, 'tis worth welcome:
Ile ne're refuse a fortune: I am confident
'Tis of no common price: now to my lodging:
If it hit right, Ile blesse this night.
Exit.
Scæne 4.
Enter Fredrick.Fred.
'Tis strange,
I cannot meet him; sure he has encountred
Some light o' love or other, and there meanes
To play at In and In for this night. Well Don John,
If you doe spring a leak, or get an itch,
Til ye claw off your curl'd pate, thank your night-walks:
You must be still a bootehalling: one round more,
Though it be late, Ile venture to discover ye,
I doe not like your out-leaps.
Scæne 5.
Enter Duke, and 3. Gentlemen.Duke.
Welcome to Towne, are ye all fit?
1.
To point Sir,
Duke.
Where are the horses?
2.
Where they were appointed.
3
Be private, and whatsoever fortune
Offer it selfe, let's stand sure.
3.
Feare not us,
'Ere ye shall be endangered, or deluded,
Wee'll make a black night on't.
Du.
No more, I know it;
You know your Quarters?
1.
Will you goe alone sir?
Du.
Ye shall not be farre from me, the least noise
Shall bring ye to my rescue.
2.
We are counsell'd.
Exeunt.
Scæne 6.
Enter Don John.Iohn.
Was ever man so paid for being curious?
Ever so bob'd for searching out adventures,
As I am? did the devill lead me? must I needs be peeping
Into mens houses where I had no businesse,
And make my selfe a mischiefe? 'Tis well carried;
I must take other mens occasions on me,
And be I know not whom: most finely handled:
What have I got by this now? what's the purchase?
A piece of evening Arras worke, a childe,
Indeed an Infidell: this comes of peeping:
A lumpe got out of lazinesse; good white bread
Let's have no bawling with yee: 'sdeath, have I
Knowne Wenches thus long, all the wayes of wenches,
Their snares and subtilties? have I read over
All their Schoole learnings, div'd into their quiddits,
And am I now bum-fidled with a Bastard?
Fetch'd over with a Carde of five, and in mine old dayes,
After the dire massacre of a million
Of Maiden-heads? caught the common way, ith' night too
Under anothers name, to make the matter
Carry more weight about it? well Don Iohn,
You will be wiser one day, when ye have purchas'd
A beavy of these Butter prints together,
With searching out conceal'd iniquities,
Without commission: why, it would never grieve me,
If I had got this Ginger-bread: never stirr'd me,
So I had had a stroak for't: 't had been Justice
Then to have kept it; but to raise a dayrie
For other mens adulteries, consume my 'selfe in candles,
And scowring works, in Nurses Bells and Babies,
Onely for charity, for meere I thank you,
A little troubles me: the least touch for it,
Had but my breeches got it, had contented me.
Whose e're it is, sure t'had a wealthy mother,
For 'tis well cloathed, and if I be not cozen'd,
Well lin'd within: to leave it here were barbarous,
And ten to one would kill it: a more sin
Then his that got it: well, I will dispose on't,
And keep it, as they keep deaths heads in rings,
To cry, memento to me; no more peeping.
Now all the danger is to qualifie
The good old gentlewoman, at whose house we live,
For she will fall upon me with a Catechisme
Of foure houres long: I must endure all;
For I will know this mother: Come good wonder,
Let you and I be jogging: your starv'd trebble
Will waken the rude watch else: All that bee
Curious night-walkers, may they finde my fee.
Exit.
Scæn. 7.
Enter Fredrick.Fred.
Sure hee's gone home:
I have beaten all the purlewes,
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 Surgeons—
Where he lyes moord, to mend his leaks.
Enter Constantia.
Con,
I'me ready,
And through a world of dangers am flown to yee.
Be full of haste and care, we are undone else:
Where are your people? which way must we travell?
For heaven sake stay not here sir.
Fred.
What may this prove?
Con.
Alas I am mistaken, lost, undone.
For ever perish'd. Sir, for heaven sake tell me,
Are ye a Gentleman?
Fred.
I am.
Con.
Of this place?
Fred.
No, borne in Spain.
Con.
As ever you lov'd honour,
As ever your desires may gaine their ends,
Doe a poore wretched woman but this benefit,
For I am forc'd to trust yee.
Fred.
Y'ave charm'd me,
Humanity and honour bids me helpe ye;
And if I faile your trust.—
Con.
The time's too dangerous
To stay your protestations: I beleeve ye,
Alas, I must believe ye: From this place,
Good noble Sir, remove me instantly,
And for a time, where nothing but your selfe.
And honest conversation may come neare me,
In some secure place sertle me. What I am,
And why thus boldly I commit my credit
Into a strangers hand, the feares and dangers,
That force me to this wilde course, at more leisure
I shall reveale unto you.
Fred.
Come, be hearty,
He must strike through my life that takes ye from me.
(Exi
Scæne 8.
Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and 2. Gent.Petr.
He will sure come. Are yee well arm'd?
Ant.
Never feare us.
Here's that will make 'em dance without a Fiddle.
Petr.
We are to look for no weak foes, my friends,
Nor unadvised ones.
Ant.
Best gamsters make the best game,
We shall fight close and handsome then.
1 Gent.
Antonio,
You are a thought too bloudy.
Ant.
Why? all Physitians
And penny Almanacks allow the opening
Of veines this moneth: why doe ye talke of bloudy?
What come we for, to fall to cuffes for apples?
What, would ye make the Cause a Cudgell quarell?
On what termes stands this man? is not his honour
Open'd to his hand, and pickt out like an Oyster?
His credit like a quart pot knockt together.
Able to hold no liquor? cleare but this point.
Petr.
Speak softly, gentle Couzen.
Ant.
Ile speak truely;
What should men doe ally'd to these disgraces,
Lick o're his enemie, sit downe, and dance him?
2.
You are as farre o'th' bow hand now.
Ant.
And crie;
That's my fine boy, thou wilt doe so no more child.
Pet.
Here are no such cold pitties.
4
By Saint Jaques
They shall not finde me one: here's old tough Andrew,
A speciall friend of mine, and he but hold,
Ile strike 'em such a horne-pipe: knocks I come for,
And the best bloud I light on; I profes it,
Not to scarre Coster-mongers; If I loose mine owne,
Mine audits lost, and fare-well five and fifty.
Pet.
Let's talke no longer, place your selves with silence,
As I directed yee; and when time calls us,
As ye are friends, so shew your selves.
Ant.
So be it.
Exeunt.
Scæne. 9.
Enter Don John and his Land-lady.Land.
Nay Son, if this be your regard.
Jo.
Good mother.
Lan.
Good me no goods; your Cozen, and your self
Are welcome to me, whilst you beare your selves
Like honest and true Gentlemen: Bring hither
To my house, that have ever been reputed
A gentlewoman of a decent, and faire carriage,
And so behav'd my self?
Jo.
I know ye have.
Lan.
Bring hither, as I say, to make my name
Stinke in my neighbours nostrills? your Devises,
Your Brats, got out of Alligant, and broken oathes?
Your Linsey Woolsey worke, your hasty puddings?
I foster up your silch'd iniquities?
Y'are deceiv'd in me, Sir, I am none
Of those receivers.
Jo.
Have I not sworne unto you,
'Tis none of mine, and shew'd you how I found it?
Land.
Ye found an easie foole that let you get it,
She had better have worne pasternes.
Jo.
Will yee heare me?
Lan.
Oathes? what doe you care for oathes to gaine your ends,
When ye are high and pamper'd? What Saint know ye?
Or what Religion, but your purpos'd lewdnesse,
Is to be look'd for of ye? nay, I will tell ye,
You will then sweare like accus'd Cut-purses,
As far of truth too; and lye beyond all Faulconers:
I'me sick to see this dealing.
Jo.
Heaven forbid Mother.
La.
Nay, I am very sick.
Jo.
Who waits there?
Ant.
Sir.
within.
Jo.
Bring down the bottle of Canary wine.
La.
Exceeding sick, heav'n helpe me.
Jo.
Haste ye sirrah,
I must ev'n make her drunk; nay gentle mother;
Lan.
Now fie upon ye, was it for this purpose
You fetch'd your evening walks for your digestions,
For this pretended holinesse? no weather,
Not before day could hold ye from the Matins.
Were these your bo-peep prayers? ye' have praid well,
And with a learned zeale: watcht well too; your Saint
It seems was pleas'd as well: still sicker, sicker.
Enter Anthony with a bottle of wine.
Jo.
There is no talking to her till I have drencht her.
Give me: here mother take a good round draught,
'Twill purge spleen from your spirits: deeper mother.
Lan.
I, I, sonne; you imagine this will mend all.
Jo.
All y'faith Mother.
Lan.
I confesse the Wine
Will doe his part.
Jo.
Ile pledge ye.
La.
But sonne John.
Jo.
I know your meaning mother; touch it once more,
Alas you look not well; take a round draught,
It warmes the bloud well, and restores the colour,
And then wee'll talke at large.
Land.
A civill gentleman?
A stranger? one the Town holds a good regard of?
Jo.
Nay I will silence there.
Lan.
One that should weigh his faire name? oh, a stich!
Jo.
There's nothing better for a stitch, good mother,
Make no spare of it, as you love your health,
Mince not the matter.
Land.
As I said, a gentleman,
Lodge in my house? now heav'ns my comfort, Signior!
Jo.
I look'd for this.
Lan.
I did not thinke you would have us'd me thus;
A woman of my credit: one, heaven knowes,
That lov'd you but too tenderly.
Jo.
Deare mother,
I ever found your kindnesse, and acknowledge it.
Lan.
No, no, I am a fool to counsell yee. Where's the infant?
Come, lets see your Workmanship.
Jo.
None of mine, Mother.
But there 'tis, and a lusty one.
Land.
Heaven blesse thee,
Thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is,
'Tis many a good mans fortune: as I live
Your owne eyes Signior, and the nether lip
As like yee, as ye had spit it.
Jo.
I am glad on't.
Lan.
Blesse me, what things are these?
Jo.
I thought my labour
Was not all lost, 'tis gold, & these are jewels,
Both rich, and right I hope.
Lan.
Well, well sonne Iohn,
I see ye are a wood-man, and can chuse
Your Deere, though it be i'th darke, all your discretion
Is not yet lost; this was well clapt aboard:
Here I am with you now; when as they say
Your pleasure comes with profit; when ye must needs do,
Doe where ye may be done to, 'tis a wisedome
Becomes a young man well: be sure of one thing,
Loose not your labour and your time together,
It seasons of a foole, sonne, time is pretious,
Worke wary whilst ye have it: since ye must traffick
Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold Signior,
Trade with no broken Merchants, make your lading,
As you would make your rest, adventurously,
But with advantage ever.
Io.
All this time mother,
The childe wants looking too, wants meat and Nurses.
Lan.
Now blessing o' thy care; it shall have all,
And instantly; Ile seek a Nurse my selfe, sonne;
'Tis a sweet childe: ah my young Spaniard;
Take you no further care sir.
Io.
Yes of these Jewels,
I must by your leave Mother: these are yours,
To make your care the stronger: for the rest
Ile finde a Master; the gold for bringing up on't,
I freely render to your charge.
Lan.
No more words,
Nor no more children, (good sonne) as you love me,
This may doe well.
Ioh.
I shall observe your Morals.
But where's Don Ferdinand (Mother)
Lan.
Ten to one
5
He was to finde you out.
Exit.
Io.
Why should he stay thus?
There may be some ill chance in't: sleep I will not,
Before I have found him: now this woman's pleas'd,
Ile seek my friend out, and my care is eas'd.
Exit.
Scæne. 10.
Enter Duke and Gent.1 Gen.
Beleeve sir, 'tis as possible to doe it,
As to remove the City; the maine faction,
Swarm throgh the streets like hornets, arm'd with angers
Able to ruine States: no safety left us,
Nor meanes to dye like men, if instantly
You draw not back againe,
Duk.
May he be drawne
And quarter'd too, that turnes now; were I surer
Of death then thou art of thy fears, and with death
More then those feares are too.
1.
Sir, I feare not.
Du.
I would not crack my vow, start from my honour,
Because I may finde danger; wound my soule,
To keep my body safe.
1.
I speak not sir,
Out of a basenesse to you.
Du.
No, nor doe not
Out of a basenesse leave me: what is danger.
More then the weaknesse of our apprehensions?
A poor cold part o'th bloud? who takes it hold of?
Cowards, and wicked livers: valiant mindes
Were made the Masters of it, and as hearty Seamen
In desperate stormes, stem with a little Rudder
The tumbling ruines of the Ocean:
So with their cause & swords do they do dangers.
Say we were sure to dye all in this venture,
As I am confident against it: is there any
Amongst us of so fat a sense, so pamper'd,
Would chuse luxuriously to lye a bed,
And purge away his spirit, send his soule out
In Sugar-sops, and Syrups? give me dying,
As dying ought to be, upon mine enemy,
Parting with man-kinde, by a man that's manly:
Let 'em be all the world, and bring along
Cain's envy with 'em, I will on.
2.
You may sir,
But with what safety?
1.
Since 'tis come to dying.
You shall perceive sir, here be those amongst us
Can dye as decently as other men,
And with as little ceremony: on brave sir.
Duk.
That's spoken heartily.
1.
And he that flinches
May he dye lowzie in a ditch.
Du.
No more dying,
There's no such danger in it:
What's a clock?
3.
Somewhat above your houre.
Du.
Away then quickly,
Make no noise, and no trouble will attend us.
Exeunt.
Scæne 11.
Enter Fredericke, and Peter, (with a candle.)Fred.
Give me the candle: so goe you out that way.
Pet.
What have we now to doe?
Fred.
And o' your life sirrah,
Let none come neare the doore without my knowledge,
No not my Landlady, nor my friend.
Pet.
'Tis done sir.
Fr.
Nor any serious businesse that concerns me.
Pet.
Is the winde there agen?
Fr.
Be gone.
Pet.
I am sir.
Exit.
Enter Constantia with a Jewell.
Fr.
Now enter without feare.—And noble Lady
That safety and civility yee wish'd for
Shall truely here attend you: no rude tongue
Nor rough behaviour knows this place, no wishes
Beyond the moderation of a man,
Dare enter here: your owne desires and Innocence,
Joyn'd to my vow'd obedience, shall protect you,
Were dangers more then doubts.
Const.
Ye are truely noble,
And worth a womans trust: let it become me,
(I doe beseech you sir) for all your kindnesse,
To render with my thanks, this worthlesse trifle;
I may be longer troublesome.
Fred.
Faire offices
Are still their owne rewards: Heav'n blesse me Lady
From selling civill courtesies: may it please ye,
If ye will force a favour to oblige me,
Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfie me
For what good Angel I am engag'd.
Const.
It shall be.
For I am truely confident yee are honest:
The Piece is scarce worth looking on.
Fred.
Trust me
The abstract of all beauty, soule of sweetnesse,
Defend me honest thoughts. I shall grow wilde else:
What eyes are there, rather what little heavens,
To stirre mens contemplations? what a Paradice
Runs through each part she has? good bloud 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 engagement of whole Families.
Const.
Your service is too liberall, worthy sir,
Thus farre I shall entreat.
Fred.
Command me Lady.
You make your power too poore.
Const.
That presently
With all convenient haste, you would retire
Unto the street you found me in.
Fred.
'Tis done.
Const.
There, if you finde a gentleman opprest
With force and violence, doe a mans office,
And draw your sword to rescue him.
Fred.
Hee's safe,
Be what he will, and let his foes be devills,
Arm'd with your pitty. I shall conjure 'em.
Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessary
Are there before ye.
Const.
All my prayers goe with ye.
Exit.
Fred.
Ye clap on proof upon me: men say gold
Do's all, engages all, works through all dangers:
Now I say beauty can do more: The Kings Exchequer,
Nor all his wealthy Indies, could not draw me
Through halfe those miseries this peece of pleasure
Might make me leap into: we are all like sea-Cards,
All our endeavours and our motions,
(As they doe to the North) still point at beauty,
Still at the fairest: for a handsome woman,
(Setting my soule a side) it should goe hard,
6
Unlesse it be her owne free gratitude,
Hopes ye shall dye, and thou tongue rot within me,
E're I infringe my faith: now to my rescue.
Exit.
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