 | The Chances |  |
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter Landlady and Anthony.Land.
Come Sir, who is it keeps your Master Company?
Anth.
I say to you, Don John.
Land.
I say what woman?
Anth.
I say so too.
Land.
I say again I will know.
Anth.
I say 'tis fit you should.
Land.
And I tell thee he has a Woman here.
Anth.
I tell thee 'tis then the better for him.
Land.
Was ever Gentlewoman
So frumpt off with a Fool? well sawcy Sirrah,
I will know who it is, and to 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 livery.
Enter Frederick.
Anth.
'Twould be a great ease to your age.
Fred.
How Now?
Why what's the matter Landlady?
Land.
What's the matter?
Ye use me decently among ye, Gentlemen.
Fred.
Who has abus'd her, you Sir?
Land.
Od's my witness
I will not be thus treated, that I will not.
Anth.
I gave her no ill Language.
Land.
Thou liest lewdly.
Thou took'st me up at every word I spoke,
As I had been a Mawkin, a flirt Gillian;
And thou think'st, because thou canst write and read,
Our Noses must be under thee.
Dare you Sirrah?
Anth.
Let but the Truth be known Sir, I beseech ye,
She raves of Wenches, and I know not what Sir.
Land.
Go to, thou know'st too well, thou wicked Varlet,
Thou Instrument of evil.
Anth.
As I live Sir, she's ever thus till Dinner.
Fred.
Get ye in, I'll answer you anon Sir.
[Exit Anthony.
Now your grief, what is't? For I can guess—
Land.
Ye may, with shame enough,
If there were shame amongst ye; nothing thought on,
But how ye may abuse my house: not satisfied
With bringing home your Bastards to undo 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 handsomly,
And bear your self discreetly to this Woman,
For such a one there is indeed.
Land.
'Tis well Son.
Fred.
Leave off your Devil's 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,
Wholesome, and ye said handsome. But you Gallants,
Beast that I was to believe ye—
Fred.
Leave your suspition:
For as I live there's no such thing.
Land.
Mine honor;
And 'twere not for mine honor.
Fred.
Come, your honor,
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 service: I dare trust ye,
For I have found ye faithful: when you know her
Land.
You know you may command me.
Enter Don John.
Jo.
Worshipful Lady,
How does thy Velvet Scabbard? by this hand
Thou lookest 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 ropery,
When ye come to my years.
Jo.
By this light,
Thou art not above fifteen yet, a meer Girle,
Thou hast not half thy teeth—
Fre.
Prethee John
Let her alone, she has been vext already:
She'l grow stark mad, man.
Jo.
I wou'd fain see her mad,
An old mad Woman—
Fre.
Prethee be patient.
Jo.
Is like a Millers Mare troubled wi'th'Tooth ache.
She makes the rarest faces.
Fre.
Go, and do it,
And do not mind this fellow.
Exit Landlady and comes back again presently.
Jo.
What, agen!
Nay, then it is decreed: though hills were set on hills,
And Seas met Seas, to guard thee, I would through.
Land.
Od's my witness, if ye ruffle me, I'l spoil your sweet face
for you, that I will. Go, go to the door there's a Gentleman there would
speak with ye.
Jo.
Upon my life Petruchio; good dear Landlady carry him into the
dining-Room, and I'll wait upon him presently.
Land.
Well Don John, the time will come that
I shall be even with you.
[Exit
Jo.
I must be gone: yet if my project hold,
You shall not stay behind: I'l rather trust
A Cat with sweet milk Frederick; by her face.
I feel her fears are working.
Con.
Is there no way,
I do beseech ye think yet, to divert
This certain danger.
Fre.
'Tis impossible:
Their Honors are engag'd.
Con.
Then there must be murder,
Which Gentlemen, I shall no sooner hear of,
Then make one in't: you may, if you please Sir,
Make all go less.
Jo.
Lady, wer't mine own cause,
I could dispence: but loaden with my Friends trust,
I must go on though general Massacrees
As much I fear—
Con.
Do ye hear Sir; for Heavens sake
Let me request one favour of you.
Fre.
Yes any thing.
Con.
This Gentleman I find is too resolute,
Too hot, and fiery for the cause, as ever
You did a virtuous deed, for honor's sake
Go with him and allay him, your fair temper
And noble disposition, like wish'd showers,
May quench those eating fires, that would spoil all else.
I see in him destruction.
I will do it.
Fre.
And 'tis a wise consideration,
To me a bounteous favour: Hark ye John,
I will go with ye.
Jo.
No.
Fre.
Indeed I will,
Ye go upon a hazard; no denyal;
For as I live I'll go:
Jo.
Then make ye ready,
For I am strait a Horse-back.
Fre.
My Sword on, and
I am as ready as you: what my blest Labour,
With all the art I have can work upon 'em,
Be sure of, and expect fair end: the old Gentlewoman
Shall wait upon ye, she is discreet and secret,
Ye may trust her in all points.
Ye are noble;
And so I take my leave.
Jo.
I hope Lady, a happy issue for all this.
Const.
All Heavens care upon ye, and my prayers.
Jo.
So,
Now my mind's at rest.
Fred.
Away, 'tis late John.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Antonio, Surgeon, and a Gentleman.Gent.
What Symptoms do ye find in him?
Sur.
None, Sir, dangerous, if he'd be rul'd.
Gent.
Why! what does he do?
Sur.
Nothing that he should. First, he will let no Liquor down but
Wine, and then he has a fancy that he must be drest always to the Tune
of John Dory.
Gent.
How? to the Tune of John Dory?
Sur.
Why? he will have Fidlers, and make them play and sing it to
him all the while.
Gent.
An odd fancy indeed.
Ant.
Give me some Wine.
Sur.
I told you so.—'Tis Death Sir.
Ant.
'Tis a Horse Sir. Dost think I shall recover with the help of
Barley water only?
Gent.
Fie, Antonio, you must be govern'd.
Ant.
Why Sir? he feeds me with nothing but rotten Roots, and
drown'd Chickens, stew'd Pericraniums and Pia-maters, and when I go to
bed, (by Heaven 'tis true Sir) he rowls me up in lints with Labels at
'em, that I am just the man i'th'Almanack, my 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 give me a brimmer? I feel my body
open enough for that. Give it me, or I'll die upon thy hand, and spoil
thy custom.
Sur.
How, a brimmer?
Ant.
Why look ye Sir, thus I am us'd still, I can get nothing that I
want. In how long time canst thou cure me?
Sur.
In forty days.
Ant.
I'll have a Dog shall lick me whole in twenty.
In how long canst thou kill me?
Sur.
Presently.
Do't that's the shorter, and there's more delight in't.
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 up with Parsley like stuff'd Beef, and let me walk abroad.
Sur.
Ye shall walk shortly.
Ant.
I will walk presently Sir, and leave your Salads there, your
green Salves and your Oyls, I'll to my old dyet again, strong Food, and
rich Wine, and try what that will do.
Sur.
Well, go thy ways, thou art the maddest old fellow I e'r yet
met with.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Constantia and Landlady.Const.
I have told ye all I can, and more than yet
Those Gentlemen know of me; but are they
Such strange Creatures say you?
Land.
There's the younger,
Don John, the errant'st Jack in all this City:
The other, time has blasted, yet he will stoop,
If not o'rflown, and freely on the Quarry;
H'as been a Dragon in his days But Tarmont,
Don Jenkin is the Devil himself, the dog-days,
The most incomprehensible Whoremaster,
Twenty a night is nothing; 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 pac'd for that sport—
Const.
May I see it?
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?
Be wise,
Ye may repent too late else; I but tell ye
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, Ill fit ye 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.
[Exeunt
SCENE IV.
Enter Petruchio, Don John, Frederick.Jo.
Sir, he is worth your knowledge, and a Gentleman
(If I that so much love him, may commend him)
That's full of honor; and one, if foul play
Should fall upon us, (for which fear I brought him)
Will not fly back for phillips.
Petr.
Ye much honor me,
And once more I pronounce ye both mine.
Fred.
Stay, what Troop
Is that below i'th'Valley there?
Jo.
Hawking I take it.
Petr.
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.
Petr.
So he does.
Jo.
Stand you still,
Within that covert, till I call: he comes
Forward; here will I wait him: to your places.
Petr.
I need no more instruct ye?
Fear me not.
[Exit Petruchio and Frederick.
Enter Duke and his Faction.
Duke.
Feed the Hawks up,
We'll fly no more to day: O my blest Fortune!
Have I so fairly met the man?
Jo.
Ye have Sir,
And him ye know by this.
Duke.
Sir, all the honor,
And love—
Jo.
I do beseech your Grace stay there, and
Dismiss your Train a little.
Duke.
Walk aside,
And out of hearing I command ye: now Sir
Be plain.
Jo.
I will, and short;
Ye have wrong'd a Gentleman, beyond all Justice,
Beyond the Mediation of all Friends.
Duke.
The man, and manner of wrong?
Jo.
Petruchio;
The wrong, ye have dishonour'd his Sister.
Duke.
Now stay you Sir,
And hear me a little: This Gentleman's
Sister that you nam'd, 'tis true I have long lov'd,
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 ruine, by my pleasures,
I wear a Sword to satisfie the World no,
And him in this Cause when he pleases; for know Sir,
She is my Wife, contracted before Heaven,
(Witness I owe more tie to, than her Brother)
Nor will I fly from that Name, which long since
Had had the Churches approbation,
But for his Jealous Nature.
Jo.
Your pardon Sir; I am fully satisfi'd.
Duke.
Dear Sir, I knew I should convert ye; had we
But that rough man here now too—
Jo.
And ye shall Sir.
What hoa, hoo.
Duke.
I hope ye have laid no Ambush?
Jo.
Only Friends.
Duke.
My noble Brother welcome:
Come put your anger off, we'll have no fighting,
Unless you will maintain I am unworthy
To bear that Name.
Petr.
Do you speak this heartily?
Duke.
Upon my Soul, and truly; the first Priest
Shall put you out of these doubts.
Petr.
Now I love ye;
And I beseech ye pardon my suspicions,
You are now more than a Brother, a brave Friend too.
Jo.
The good man's over-joy'd.
Enter Frederick.
Fred.
How now, how goes it?
Jo.
Why, the man has his Mare again, and all's well:
The Duke professes freely he's her Husband.
Fred.
'Tis a good hearing.
Jo.
Yes, for modest Gentlemen. I must present ye:
May it please your Grace
To number this brave Gentleman, my Friend,
And noble Kinsman, amongst the rest of 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 freely place your Friend.
Fred.
Your Grace does me a great deal of honor.
Petr.
Why, this is wondrous happy: But now Brother,
Now comes the bitter to our sweet: Constantia.
Duke.
Why, what of her?
Petr.
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.
Petr.
Nay sink not,
She cannot be so lost.
Jo.
Nor shall not Gentlemen;
Shews you distrust your Servant.
Duke.
I do beseech ye.
Jo.
Ye shall believe me, by my Soul she's safe.
Duke.
Heaven knows I would believe Sir.
Fred.
Ye may safely.
Jo.
And under noble usage: this 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.
Petr.
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 virtues
Die in your Friends remembrance—
Jo.
Good your Grace
Lose no more time in Complements, 'tis too precious,
I know it by my self, there can be no Hell
To his that hangs upon his hopes.
Petr.
He has hit it.
Fred.
To Horse again then, for this night I'll crown
With all the Joys ye wish for.
Petr.
Happy Gentlemen.
Enter Francisco, and a Man.
Fran.
This is the maddest mischief, never Fool was so sub'd off as I
am, made ridiculous, and to my self, to my own Ass; trust a Woman,
I'll trust the Devil first, for he dares be better than his word sometimes.
Pray tell me, in what observance have I e'r fail'd her?
Man.
Nay, you can tell that best your self.
Fran.
Let me consider.
Enter Don Frederick and Don John.
Fred.
Let them talk, we'll go on before.
Fran.
Where did'st thou meet Constantia, and this Woman?
Fred.
Constantia! what are these Fellows? Stay by all means.
Man.
Why Sir, I met her in the great Street that comes from the
Market-place, just at the turning by a Gold-smith's Shop.
Fred.
Stand still John.
Well, Constantia has spun her self a fair thred now: what will
her best Friend think of this?
Fred.
John, I smell some jugling, John.
Jo.
Yes, Frederick, I fear it will be prov'd so.
Fran.
But what should the reason be dost think of this so suddain
change in her?
Fred.
'Tis she.
Man.
Why, truly I suspect she has been entic'd to it by a Stranger.
Jo.
Did you mark that Frederick?
Fran.
Stranger? who?
Man.
A young Gentleman that's newly come to Town.
Fred.
Mark that too.
Jo.
Yes Sir.
Fran.
Why do you think so?
Man.
I heard her grave Conductress twattle something as they went
along that makes me guess it.
Jo.
'Tis she Frederick.
Fred.
But who that he is John.
Fran.
I do not doubt to bolt 'em out, for they must certainly be about
the Town. Ha! no more words; come, let's be gone.
[Exeunt Fran. and Man.
Fred.
Well.
Jo.
Very well.
Fred.
Discreetly.
Jo.
Finely carri'd.
Fred.
Ye have no more of these Tricks?
Jo.
Ten to one Sir, I shall meet with 'em if ye have.
Fred.
Is this fair?
Jo.
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 thus every Woman's courtesie; 'tis boyish, 'tis base.
Jo.
'Tis false: I privy to this Dog-trick? Clear your self, for I know
well enough where the wind sits, or as I have a life—
[Trample within.
Fred.
No more, they are coming, shew no discontent, let's quietly away;
If she be at home our Jealousies are over, if not, you and I must
have a farther parly John.
Jo.
Yes, Don Frederick, ye may be sure we shall: but where are these
Fellows? Pox on't, we have lost them too in our Spleens, like Fools.
Enter Duke and Petruchio.
Duke.
Come Gentlemen, Let's go a little faster;
Your pace accordingly.
Jo.
Sir, I should be as glad of a Mistress as an other man.
Fred.
Yes, o'my Conscience would'st thou, and of any other man's
Mistress too; that I'll answer for.
[Exeunt.
SCENE. V.
Enter Antonio and his Man.Ant.
With all my Gold?
Man.
The Trunk broke open, and all gone.
Ant.
And the Mother in the Plot?
Man.
And the mother and all.
Ant.
And the Devil and all: the mighty Pox go with 'em: belike they
thought I was no more of this World, and those trifles would but disturb
my Conscience.
Man.
Sure they thought, Sir, you wou'd not live to disturb them.
Ant.
Well, my sweet Mistress, I'll try how handsomely your Ladiship
can hang upon a pair of Gallows, there's your Master-piece. No imagination
where they should be?
Man.
None Sir: yet we have search'd all places we suspected; I believe
they have taken towards the Port.
Ant.
Get me then a Water-Conjurer, one that can raise Water-Devils,
I'll port 'em, play at Duck and Drake with my money? Get me a Conjurer
I say, enquire out a man that lets out Devils.
Man.
I don't know where.
Ant.
In every Street Tom Fool, any blear-ey'd people with red heads,
and flat noses can perform it. Thou shalt know 'em by their half gowns,
and no breeches. Find me out a Conjurer, I say, and learn his price, how
he will let his Divils out by the day. I'll have 'em again if they be above
Ground.
[Exeunt.
SCENE. VI.
Enter Duke, Petruchio, Frederick, and John.Petr.
Your Grace is welcome now to Naples; so ye are all, Gentlemen.
Jo.
Don Frederick, will you step in, and give the Lady notice who
comes to visit her?
Petr.
Bid her make haste, we come to see no curious Wench, a night-gown
Fred.
I'll tell her what you say Sir.
[Exit.
Petr.
Now will the sport be to observe her alterations, how betwixt
fear and joy she will behave her self.
Duke.
Dear Brother, I must entreat you—
Petr.
I conceive your mind Sir, I will not chide her.
Enter Frederick and Peter.
Jo.
How now?
Fred.
You may Sir: not to abuse your patience longer, nor hold ye off
with tedious circumstance; for ye must know—
Petr.
What?
Duke.
Where is she?
Fred.
Gone Sir.
Duke.
How?
Petr.
What did you say Sir?
Fred.
Gone: by Heaven remov'd. The Woman of the house too.
Petr.
What, that reverend old Woman that tir'd me with Complements?
Fred.
The very same.
Jo.
Well, Don Frederick.
Fred.
Don John, it is not well. But—
Petr.
Gone?
Fred.
This Fellow can satisfie I lie not.
Peter.
A little after my Master was departed, Sir, with this Gentleman,
my Fellow and my self being sent on business, as we must think on
purpose.
Petr.
Hang these Circumstances, they always serve to usher in ill ends.
Jo.
Now could I eat that Rogue, I am so angry. Gone?
Petr.
Gone?
Fred.
Directly gone, fled, shifted, what would you ha'me say?
Duke.
Well, Gentlemen, wrong not my good opinion.
Fred.
For your Dukedom, Sir, I would not be a Knave.
Jo.
He that is, a Rot run in his blood.
Petr.
But hark ye Gentlemen, are ye sure ye had her here? Did ye not
dream this?
Jo.
Have you your nose Sir?
Petr.
Yes Sir.
Jo.
Then we had her.
Petr.
Since ye are so short, believe your having her shall suffer more
construction.
Well Sir, let it suffer.
Fred.
How to convince ye Sir, I can't imagine, but my life shall justifie
my innocence, or fall with it.
Duke.
Thus then—for we may be all abus'd.
Petr.
'Tis possible.
Duke.
Here let's part until to morrow this time; we to our way, to
clear this doubt, and you to yours. Pawning our honors then to meet
again? when if she be not found—
Fred.
We stand engag'd to answer any worthy way we are call'd to.
Duke.
We ask no more.
Petr.
To morrow certain.
Jo.
If we out-live this night Sir.
[Exit Duke and Petru.
Fred.
Come, Don John, we have somewhat now to do.
Jo.
I am sure I would have.
Fred.
If she be not found, we must fight.
Jo.
I am glad on't, I have not fought a great while.
Fred.
If we die—
Jo.
There's so much money sav'd in Lechery.
[Exeunt.
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