 | The Chances |  |
SCENE III.
Enter Frederick and Francisco.Fred.
And art thou sure it was Constantia, say'st thou that he was leading?
Fran.
Am I sure I live Sir? why, I dwelt in the house with her; how
can I chuse but know her.
Fred.
But did'st thou see her face?
Fran.
Lord Sir, I saw her face as plainly as I see yours just now, not
two Streets off.
Fred.
Yes, 'tis e'en so: I suspected it at first, but then he forswore it
with that confidence—Well, Don John, if these be your practices, you
shall have no more a Friend of me, Sir, I assure you. Perhaps though he
met her by chance, and intends to carry her to her Brother and the Duke.
A little time will shew.—Gods so, here he is;
I'll step behind this Shop, and observe what he say's.
Jo.
Here, now go in, and make me for ever happy.
Fred.
Dear Don John.
Jo.
A pox o'your kindness, how the Devil comes he here just at this
time? Now will he ask me forty foolish Questions, and I have such a
mind to this Wench, that I cannot think of one excuse for my life.
Fred.
Your Servant Sir: pray who's that you lock'd in just now at
that door?
Jo.
Why, a Friend of mine that's gone up to read a Book.
Fred.
A Book? that's a queint one i'faith: prethee Don John what Library
hast thou been buying this Afternoon? for i'th'Morning to my
knowledge thou had'st never a Book there, except it were an Almanack,
and that was none of thy own neither.
Jo.
No, no, it's a Book of his own he brought along with him. A
Scholar that is given to reading.
Fred.
And do Scholars (Don John) wear Petticoats now adays?
Jo.
Plague on him, he has seen her.—Well Don Frederick, thou
know'st I am not good at lying, 'tis a Woman I confess it, make your
best on't, what then?
Fred.
Why then, Don John, I desire you'll be pleas'd to let me see her.
Jo.
Why, faith Frederick, I should not be against the thing, but ye
know a man must keep his word, and she has a mind to be private.
Fred.
But John you may remember when I met a Lady so before, this
very self same Lady too, that I got leave for you to see her John.
Jo.
Why, do ye think then that this here is Constantia?
Fred.
I cannot properly say I think it John, because I know it; this Fellow
here saw her as you led her i'th'Streets.
Jo.
Well, and what then? who does he say it is?
Fred.
Ask him Sir, and he'll tell ye.
Jo.
Sweet heart, dost thou know this Lady?
Fran.
I think I should Sir, I ha' liv'd long enough in the House with
her to know her sure.
Jo.
And how do they call her prethee?
Fran.
Constantia.
Jo.
How! Constantia?
Fran.
Yes Sir, the Woman's name is Constantia; that's flat.
Jo.
Is it so Sir? and so is this too.
[Strikes him.
Fran.
Oh, Oh.
[Runs out.
Now Sirrah, you may safely say you have not born false witness
for nothing.
Fred.
Fie, Don John why do you beat the poor Fellow for doing his
Duty, and telling truth?
Jo.
Telling truth? thou talk'st as if thou had'st been hir'd to bear
false witness too: ye are a very fine Gentleman.
Fred.
What a strange confidence he has? But is there no shame in
thee? nor no consideration of what is just or honest, to keep a Woman
thus against her will, that thou know'st is in love with another man too;
do'st think a Judgment will not follow this?
Jo.
Good dear Frederick, do thou keep thy Sentences and thy Morals
for some better opportunity, this here is not a fit Subject for 'em: I tell
thee she is no more Constantia than thou art.
Fred.
Why won't you let me see her then?
Jo.
Because I can't: besides she is not for thy turn.
Fred.
How so?
Jo.
Why, thy Genius lies another way; thou art for flames, and darts,
and those fine things: now I am for the old plain down-right way; I am
not so curious Frederick as thou art.
Fred.
Very well Sir; but is this worthy in you to endeavour to debauch—
Jo.
But is there no shame? but is this worthy? what a many buts are
here? If I should tell thee now solemnly thou hast but one eye, and give
thee reasons for it, would'st thou believe me?
Fred.
I think hardly Sir, against my own knowledg.
Jo.
Then why dost thou, with that grave face, go about to perswade
me against mine? You should do as you would be done by Frederick.
Fred.
And so I will Sir, in this very particular, since there's no other
remedy; I shall do that for the Duke and Petruchio, which I should expect
from them upon the like occasion: in short, to let you see I am as sensible
of my honour, as you can be careless of yours; I must tell ye Sir,
that I'm resolv'd to wait upon this Lady to them.
Jo.
Are ye so Sir? Why I must then, sweet Sir, tell you again, I am
resolved you shan't. Ne'r stare, nor wonder, I have promis'd to preserve
ner from the sight of any one whatsoever, and with the hazard of my
life will make it good; but that you may not think I mean an injury to
Petruchio, or the Duke, know Don Frederick, that though I love a Wench
perhaps a little better, I hate to do a thing that's base, as much as you do.
Once more upon my honor this is not Constantia; let that satisfie you.
Fred.
All that will not do.—
[Goes to the Door.
Jo.
No? why then this shall.
(Draws)
Come not one step nearer,
for if thou do'st, by Heaven it is thy last.
This is an insolence beyond the temper of a man to suffer;—
thus I throw off thy friendship, and since thy folly has provok'd my patience
beyond its natural bounds, know it is not in thy power now to save
thy self.
Jo.
That's to be try'd Sir, though by your favour.
[Looks up to the window.
Mistress what you call 'em,—prethee look out now a little, and see how
I'll fight for thee.
Fred.
Come, Sir, are you ready?
Jo.
O Lord, Sir, your Servant.
[Fight.
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