 | The Chances |  |
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Antonio's Servant, Constables and Officers.Ser.
A Young Woman say'st thou and her Mother?
Man.
Yes, just now come to the house. Not an hour ago.
Ser.
It must be they, here Friend, here's money for you; be sure you
Const.
But Neighbour how—hup—shall I now—hup—know these
these Parties? for I would—hup—execute my Office—hup—
like—hup—a sober Person.
Man.
That's hard; but you may easily know the Mother, for she is
hup—drunk.
Const.
Nay—hup—if she be drunk, let—hup—me alone to maul
her, for—hup—I abhor a Drunkard—hup—let it be man—
Woman, or—hup—Child.
Man.
Ay Neighbour, one may see you hate drinking indeed.
Const.
Why Neighbour—hup—did you ever see me drunk? answer
me that Question: did you ever—hup—see me drunk?
Man.
No, never, never: come away, here's the house.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter 1. Constantia.1. Const.
Oh, whither shall I run to hide my self! The Constable has
seiz'd the Landlady, and I'm afraid the poor Child too. How to return
to Don Frederick's house, I know not; and if I knew, I durst not, after
those things the Landlady has told me of him. If I get not from this
drunken Rabble, I expose my honour; and if I fall into my Brother's
hands, I lose my life: you Powers above, look down and help me, I am
faulty I confess, but greater faults have often met with lighter punishments:
Be what I will, I am still what you have made.
Enter Don John.
Jo.
I'm almost dead with running, and will be so quite, but I will
overtake her.
1. Const.
Hold Don John, hold.
Jo.
Who's that? Ha? is it you my Dear?
1. Const.
For Heaven's sake Sir, carry me from hence, or I'm utterly
undone.
Jo.
Phoo pox', this is th'other: now could I almost beat her, for but
making me the Proposition: Madam, there are some a coming that will
do it a great deal better; but I am in such haste, that I vow to Gad
Madam—
Nay pray Sir stay, you are concern'd in this as well as I; for
your Woman is taken.
Jo.
Ha! my Woman?
[Goes back to her.
I vow to Gad Madam, I do so highly honor your Ladyshp, that I would
venture my life a thousand times to do you Service. But pray where is
she?
1. Const.
Why Sir, she is taken by the Constable.
Jo.
Constable! which way went he?
[Rashly.
1. Const.
I cannot tell, for I run out into the Streets just as he had
seiz'd upon your Landlady.
Jo.
Plague o'my Landlady, I meant t'other Woman.
1. Const.
Other Woman Sir! I have seen no other Woman never since
I left your house.
Jo.
'S heart, what have I been doing here then all this while? Madam,
your most humble—
1. Const.
Good Sir, be not so cruel, as to leave me in this distress.
Jo.
No, no, no; I'm only going a little way, and will be back again
presently.
1. Const.
But pray Sir hear me; I'm in that danger—
Jo.
No, no, no, I vow to Gad Madam, no danger i'the World; let me
alone, I warrant you.
[Exit.
1. Const.
He's gone, and I a lost wretched, miserable Creature, lost for
ever.
Enter Antonio.
Ant.
O, there she is.
1. Const.
Who's this, Antonio? the fiercest Enemy I have.
[Runs out.
Ant.
Are ye so nimble-footed Gentlewoman? If I don't overtake you
for all this, it shall go hard—
A plague confound all Whores.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
Enter Mother to the second Constantia, and Kinswoman.Kins.
But, Madam, be not so angry, perhaps she'll come again.
Mot.
O Kinswoman, never speak of her more, for shes an odious Creature,
to leave me thus i'th'lurch. I that have given her all her breeding,
and instructed her with my own Principles of Education.
Kins.
Protest, Madam, I think she's a Person that knows as much of all
that as—
Knows, Kinswoman? There's ne'r a Woman in Italy of thrice
her years knows so much the procedures of a true gallantry, and the infallible
Principles of an honourable friendship as she does.
Kins.
And therefore, Madam, you ought to love her.
Mot.
No, fie upon her, nothing at all, as I am a Christian: when once a
Person fails in Fundamentals, she's at a period with me. Besides, with all
her wit, Constantia is but a Fool, and calls all the Meniarderies of a bonne
mine, affectation.
Kins.
Indeed I must confess, she's given a little too much to the careless
way.
Mot.
Ay, there you have hit it Kinswoman, the careless way has quite
undone her. Will ye believe me Kinswoman? as I am a Christian, I never
could make her do this, nor carry her body thus, but just when my eye
was upon her; as soon as ever my back was turn'd, whip, her elbows
were quite out again: would not you strange now at this?
Kins.
Bless me sweet goodness! But, pray Madam, how came Constantia
to fall out with your Ladiship? Did she take any thing ill of you?
Mot.
As I'm a Christian I can't resolve you, unless it were that I led
the dance first; but for that she must excuse me, I know she dances well,
but there are others who perhaps understand the right swim of it as well
as she;
Enter Don Frederick.
And though I love Constantia—
Fred.
How's this? Constantia?
Mot.
I know no reason why I should be debarr'd the priviledge of
shewing my own parts too sometimes.
Fred.
If I am not mistaken that other Woman is she Don John and I
were directed to, when we came first to Town, to bring us acquainted
with Constantia. I'll try to get some Intelligence from her. Pray Lady,
have I never seen you before?
Kins.
Yes, Sir, I think you have, with another Stranger, a Friend of
yours, one day as I was coming out of the Church.
Fred.
I'm right then. And pray who were you talking of?
Mot.
Why Sir, of an inconsiderate inconsiderable Person, that has at
once both forfeited the honor of my concern, and the concern of her
own honor.
Fred.
Very fine indeed. And is all this intended for the beautiful Constantia?
Mot.
O fie upon her Sir, an odious Creature as I'm a Christian, no
Beauty at all.
Why, does not your Ladiship think her handsome?
Mot.
Seriously, Sir, I don't think she's ugly, but as I'm a Christian, my
Position is; That no true Beauty can be lodg'd in that Creature, who
is not in some measure buoy'd up with a just sence of what is incumbent
to the devoir of a Person of Quality.
Fred.
That Position, Madam, is a little severe, but however she has
been incumbent formerly, as your Ladyship is pleas'd to say; now
that she's marry'd, and her Husband owns the Child, she is sufficiently justifi'd
for all she has done.
Mot.
Sir, I must blushingly beg leave to say you are there in an error.
I know there has been passages of love between 'em, but with a temperament
so innocent, and so refin'd, as it did impose a negative upon the very
possibility of her being with Child.
Fred.
Sure she is not well acquainted with her. Pray Madam, how
long have you known Constantia?
Mot.
Long enough I think Sir; for I had the good fortune, or rather
the ill one, to help her first to the light of the World.
Fred.
Now cannot I discover by the fineness of this Dialect, whether
she be the Mother or the Midwife: I had best ask t'other Woman.
Mot.
No Sir, I assure you, my Daughter Constantia has never had a
Child: a Child! ha, ha, ha; O goodness save us, a Child!
Fred.
O then she is the Mother, and it seems is not inform'd of the
matter. Well Madam, I shall not dispute this with you any further; but
give me leave to wait upon you to your Daughter; for her Friend I
assure ye is in great impatience to see her.
Mot.
Friend Sir? I know none she has; I'm sure she loaths the very
sight of him.
Fred.
Of whom?
Mot.
Why, of Antonio Sir, he that you were pleas'd to say had got my
Daughter with Child. Sir—ha—ha—ha—
Fred.
Still worse and worse; 'Slife cannot she be content with not letting
me understand her, but must also resolve obstinately not to understand
me because I speak plain? Why, Madam, I cannot express my self
your way, therefore be not offended at me for it; I tell you I do not
know Antonio, nor never nam'd him to you: I told you that the Duke has
own'd Constantia for his Wife, that her Brother and he are Friends, and
are both now in search after her.
Mot.
Then as I'm a Christian, I suspect we have both been equally involv'd
in the misfortune of a mistake. Sir I am in the derniere confusion
to avow that though my Daughter Constantia has been lyable to several
Addresses, yet she never has had the honour to be produc'd to his Grace.
Fred.
So then you put her to bed to—
Antonio Sir, one whom my ebb of fortune forc'd me to enter into
a negotiation with, in reference to my Daughter's Person; but as I'm a
Christian with that candor in the action, as I was in no kind deny'd to
be a witness of the thing.
Fred.
So, now the thing is out. This is a damn'd Bawd, and I as
damn'd a Rogue for what I did to Don John: for o'my conscience, this is
that Constantia the Fellow told me of. I'll make him amends what e'r it
cost me. Lady, you must give me leave not to part with you, till you
meet with your Daughter, for some reasons I shall tell you hereafter.
Mot.
Sir, I am so highly your Obligee for the manner of your Enquiries,
and you have grounded your Determinations upon so just a Basis,
that I shall not be asham'd to own my self a Votary to all your Commands.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter second Constantia.2. Const.
So, I'm once more freed from Antonio; but whither to go
now, there's the question; nothing troubles me, but that he was sent up
by that young Fellow, for I lik'd him with my Soul, would he had lik'd
me so too.
Enter Don John, and a Shopkeeper.
Jo.
Which way went she?
Shop.
Who?
Jo.
The Woman?
Shop.
What Woman?
Jo.
Why, a young Woman, a handsome Woman, the handsomest Woman
thou ever saw'st in thy life: speak quickly Sirrah, or thou shalt speak
no more.
Shop.
Why, yonder's a Woman: what a Devil ayls this Fellow?
[Exit.
Jo.
O my dear Soul, take pity o'me, and give me comfort, for I'm
e'en dead for want of thee.
2. Const.
O you're a fine Gentleman indeed, to shut me up in your
house, and send another man to me.
Jo.
Pray hear me.
2. Const.
No, I will never hear you more after such an Injury, what
would ye have done if I had been kind to ye, that could use me thus before?
Jo.
By my troth that's shrewdly urg'd.
Besides, you basely broke your word.
Jo.
But will ye hear nothing? nor did you hear nothing? I had three
men upon me at once, and had I not consented to let that old Fellow up,
who came to my rescue, they had all broken in whether I would or no.
2. Const.
Faith it may be it was so, for I remember I heard a noise;
but suppose it was not so, what then? why then I'll love him however.
Hark ye Sir, I ought now to use you very scurvily, but I can't
find in my heart to do it.
Jo.
Then God's blessing on thy heart for it.
2. Const.
But a—
Jo.
What?
2. Const.
I would fain—
Jo.
I, so would I: come let's go.
2. Const.
I would fain know whether you can be kind to me.
Jo.
That thou shalt presently; come away.
2. Const.
And will you always?
Jo.
Always? I can't say so; but I will as often as I can.
2. Const.
Phoo! I mean love me.
Jo.
Well, I mean that too.
2. Const.
Swear then.
Jo.
That I will upon my knees: what shall I say?
2. Const.
Nay, use what words you please, so they be but hearty,
and not those are spoken by the Priest, for that charm seldome proves
fortunate.
Jo.
I swear then by thy fair self, that look'st so like a Deity, and art
the only thing I now can think of, that I'll adore thee to my dying day.
2. Const.
And here I vow, the minute thou do'st leave me, I'll leave
the World, that's kill my self.
Jo.
O my dear heavenly Creature!—
[Kisses her.
That kiss now has almost put me into a swoon, for Heaven's sake let's
quickly out of the Streets for fear of another scuffle. I durst encounter
a whole Army for thy sake; but yet methinks I had better try
my courage another way; what think'st thou?
2. Const.
Well, well; why don't you go then?
[As they are going out,
Enter 1. Constantia, and just then Antonio seizes upon her.
Jo.
Who's this, my old new Friend has got there?
Ant.
O have I caught you Gentlewoman at last?
Come, give me my Gold.
1. Const.
I hope he takes me for another, I won't answer, for I had
rather he should take me for any one than who I am.
Pray Sir, who is that you have there by the hand?
Ant.
A Person of Honor Sir, that has broke open my Trunks, and
run away with all my Gold; yet I'll hold ten pound I'll have it whip'd
out of her again.
2. Const.
Done, I'll hold you ten pounds of that now.
Ant.
Ha! by my troth you have reason; and Lady I ask you pardon;
but I'll have it whip'd out of you then Gossip.
Jo.
Hold Sir, you must not meddle with my Goods.
Ant.
Your Goods? how came she to be yours? I'm sure I bought her
of her Mother, for five hundred good pieces in Gold, and she was abed
with me all night too; deny that if you dare.
2. Const.
Well, and what did you do when I was abed with you all
night? confess that if you dare.
Ant.
Umh, say you so?
1. Const.
I'll try if this Lady will help me, for I know not whither else
to go.
Ant.
I shall be sham'd I see utterly except I make her hold her peace.
Pray Sir by your leave; I hope you will allow me the Speech of one
word with your Goods here, as you call her; 'tis but a small request.
Jo.
I Sir, with all my heart. How, Constantia! Madam, now you have
seen that Lady, I hope you will pardon the haste you met me in a little
while ago; if I committed a fault, you must thank her for it.
1. Const.
Sir, if you will for her sake, be perswaded to protect me
from the violence of my Brother, I shall have reason to thank you both.
Jo.
Nay Madam, now that I am in my wits again, and my heart's at
ease, it shall go very hard but I will see yours so too; I was before distracted,
and 'tis not strange the love of her should hinder me from remembring
what was due to you, since it made me forget my self.
1. Const.
Sir, I do know too well the power of Love, by my own experience,
not to pardon all the effects of it in another.
Ant.
Well then, I promise you, if you will but help me to my Gold again,
(I mean that which you and your Mother stole out of my Trunk)
that I'll never trouble you more.
2. Const.
A match; and 'tis the best that you and I could ever make.
Jo.
Pray Madam fear nothing; by my love I'll stand by you, and see
that your Brother shall do you no harm.
2. Const.
Hark ye Sir, a word; how dare you talk of love, or standing
by any Lady, but me Sir?
Jo.
By my troth that was a fault; but I did not mean it your way, I
meant it only civilly.
2. Const.
I, but if you are so very civil a Gentleman we shall not be
long friends; I scorn to share your love with any one whatsoever; and
Jo.
Well my dear little Rogue, thou shalt have it all presently, as soon
as we can but get rid of this Company.
2. Const.
Phoo, y'are always abusing me.
Enter Frederick and Mother.
Fred.
Come, now Madam, let not us speak one word more, but go quietly
about our business; not but that I think it the greatest pleasure in the
World to hear you talk, but—
Mot.
Do you indeed Sir? I swear then good wits jump Sir; for I
have thought so my self a very great while.
Fred.
Yo've all the reason imaginable. O, Don John, I ask thy pardon;
but I hope I shall make thee amends, for I have found out the Mother,
and she has promis'd me to help thee to thy Mistress again.
Jo.
Sir, you may save your labour, the business is done, and I am fully
satisfi'd.
Fred.
And dost thou know who she is?
Jo.
No faith, I never ask'd her name.
Fred.
Why, then, I'll make thee yet more satisfi'd; this Lady here is
that very Constantia—
Jo.
Ha! thou hast not a mind to be knock'd o'r the pate too, hast
thou?
Fred.
No Sir, nor dare you do it neither; but for certain this is that
very self same Constantia that thou and I so long look'd after.
Jo.
I thought she was something more than ordinary; but shall I tell
thee now a stranger thing than all this?
Fred.
What's that?
Jo.
Why, I will never more touch any other Woman for her sake.
Fred.
Well, I submit; that indeed is stranger.
2. Const.
Come Mother, deliver your Purse; I have deliver'd my self
up to this young Fellow, and the bargain's made with that old Fellow, so
he may have his Gold again, that all shall be well.
Mot.
As I'm a Christian Sir, I took it away only to have the honour
of restoring it again; for my hard fate having not bestow'd upon me a
Fund which might capacitate me to make you Presents of my own, I had
no way left for the exercise of my generosity, but by putting my self into
a condition of giving back what was yours.
Ant.
A very generous design indeed. So, now I'll e'en turn a sober Person,
and leave off this wenching, and this fighting, for I begin to find it
does not agree with me.
Fred.
Madam, I'm heartily glad to meet your Ladyship here; we have
Landlady and the Child again?
Enter Duke, Petruchio, and Landlady with the Child.
Petr.
Yes, we met her going to be whip'd, in a drunken Constables
hands that took her for another.
Jo.
Why, then, pray let her e'en be taken and whip'd for her self, for
on my word she deserves it.
Land.
Yes, I'm sure of your good word at any time.
1. Const.
Hark ye dear Landlady.
Land.
O sweet Goodness! is it you? I have been in such a peck of
troubles since I saw you; they took me, and they tumbled me, and they
hall'd me, and they pull'd me, and they call'd me painted Jezebel, and the
poor little Babe here did so take on. Come hither my Lord, come hither;
here is Constantia.
1. Const.
For Heaven's sake peace, yonder's my Brother, and if he discovers
me I'm certainly ruin'd.
Duke.
No, Madam, there is no danger.
1. Const.
Were there a thousand dangers, in those Arms, I would run
thus to meet them.
Duke.
O my Dear, it were not safe that any should be here at present,
for now my heart is so o'erpress'd with joy, that I should scarce be able to
defend thee.
Petr.
Sister, I'm so asham'd of all the faults, which my mistake has
made me guilty of, that I know not how to ask your pardon for them.
1. Const.
No, Brother, the fault was mine, in mistaking you so much,
as not to impart the whole truth to you at first; but having begun my
love without your consent, I never durst acquaint you with the progress
of it.
Duke.
Come, let the Consummation of our present joys, blot out the
memory of all these past mistakes.
Jo.
And when shall we consummate our Joys?
2. Const.
Never;
We'll find out ways shall make 'em last for ever.
Jo.
Now see the odds 'twixt marry'd Folks and Friends:
Our Love begins just where their Passion ends.
| The Chances | |