Made now-a-days with malt, that their affections Ant. Pr'ythee, be thou sober, And know that they are none of those, not guilty To give the wonder over. Pet. Would they were resolv'd To give me some new shoes too; for I'll be sworn Enter Don JOHN and Don FREDERICK. John. I would we could have seen her though; for sure She must be some rare creature, or report lies: All men's reports too. Fred. I could well wish I had seen Constantia : But, since she is so conceal'd, plac'd where No knowledge can come near her, so guarded As 'twere impossible, though known, to reach her, I have made up my belief. John. Hang me, from this hour, If I more think upon her; But, as she came a strange report unto me, Fred. 'Tis the next way— But whither are you walking? After my meat, and then to bed. John. Will you not stir? John. I'd lay my life, this lady still- John. I have something to impart. I will not miss to meet ye. John. Where? As day must come again, as clear as truth, Maliciously abus'd, blasted for ever In name and honour, lost to all remembrance, But what is smear'd and shameful: I must kill him, Necessity compels me. 2 Gent. But think better. Petr. There's no other cure left; yet witness with me All that is fair in man, all that is noble: I wish it with my soul, so much I tremble Petr. To perform it, So much I am tied to reputation, And credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires, And storms that toss me into everlasting ruin, Yet I must through; if ye dare side me. Ant. Dare! John. The civil order of this city Naples Makes it belov'd and honour'd of all travellers, As a most safe retirement in all troubles; Beside the wholesome seat and noble temper Of those minds that inhabit it, safely wise, And to all strangers courteous. But I see My admiration has drawn night upon me, And longer to expect my friend may pull me Into suspicion of too late a stirrer, Which all good governments are jealous of. I'll venture to look in. If there be knaves, Within. Signior! John. What! How is this? Within. Signior Fabritio! John. I'll go nearer. Within. Fabritio? John. This is a woman's tongue; here may be good done. Within. Who's there? Fabritio? Within. Where are you? John. Here. John. Was ever man so paid for being curious? Into men's houses where I had no business, A piece of evening arras-work, a child, ches, Their snares and subtleties? Have I read over All their school learning, dived into their quiddits, And am I now bumfiddled with a bastard! Fetch'd over with a card o' five, and in my old days, After the dire massacre of a million Of maidenheads, caught the common way, i' th' night too Under another's name, to make the matter A bevy of those butter-prints together, me, If I had got this gingerbread: never stir'd me, sure I shall reveal unto you. Fred. Come, be hearty; And scouring work, in nurses, bells, and babies, | That force me to this wild course, at more lei- Are ye me, a gentleman ? Fred. I am. Con. Of this place? Fred. No, born in Spain. Con. As ever you lov'd honour, As ever your desires may gain their end, Fred. Y' have charm'd me, Con. The time's too dangerous To stay your protestations: I believe ye. Alas! I must believe ye. From this place, Good, noble sir, remove me instantly. And for a time, where nothing but yourself, And honest conversation, may come near me, In some secure place settle me. What I am, And why thus boldly I commit my credit Into a stranger's hand, the fear and dangers He must strike through my life that takes you from me. [Exeunt. Enter PETRUCHIO, ANTONIO, and two Gentle Ant. Best gamesters make the best play; We shall fight close and home then. 1 Gent. Antonio, You are thought too bloody. Ant. Why? All physicians, And penny almanacks, allow the opening Petr. Speak softly, gentle cousin. What should men do, allied to these disgraces, That's my fine boy, thou wilt do so no more, child? Petr. Here are no such cold pities. Ant. By St Jaques, They shall not find me one! Here's old tough Andrew, A special friend of mine, and he but hold, And the best blood I light on: I profess it, Petr. Let's talk no longer. Place yourselves with silence As I directed ye; and when time calls us, [Exeunt. You're deceiv'd in me, sir, I am none John. Have I not sworn unto you, 'Tis none of mine, and shew'd you how I found it? Land. Ye found an easy fool that let you get it. John. Will you hear me? Land. Oaths! what care you for oaths to gain your ends; When ye are high and pamper'd? What saint Or what religion, but your purpos'd lewdness, John. Heaven forbid, mother. John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine. I must e'en make her drunk. [Aside.] Nay, gentle mother Land. I did not think you would have us❜d me A woman of my credit, one, Heaven knows, I ever found your kindness, and acknowledge it. Come, let's see your workmanship. Land. Heaven bless thee, Thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is, Land. Now fy upon ye! was it for this purpose, You fetch'd your evening walks for your devo-I tions? For this, pretended holiness? No weather, And with a learned zeal have watch'd well too; It seems was pleas'd as well. Still sicker, sicker! Enter PETER with a Bottle of Wine. John. There is no talking to her till I have drench'd her. Give me. Here, mother, take a good round draught. It will purge spleen from your spirits; deeper, mother. Land. Aye, aye, son; you imagine this will mend all. John. All, i'faith, mother. Will do his part. John. I'll pledge ye. Land. But, son John John. I know your meaning, mother, touch it once more. Alas! you look not well, take a round draught, Land. A civil gentleman! John. I am glad on't. Land. Bless me! what things are these? Was not all lost: 'tis gold, and these are jewels, Land. Well, well, son John, see ye're a woodman, and can choose Is not yet lost; this was well clapp'd aboard; Do where you may be done to; 'tis a wisdom traffic Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, signior; Trade with no broken merchants; make your As you would make your rest, adventurously, John. All this time, mother, The child wants looking to, wants meat and nurses. John. Yes, of these jewels I must, by your good leave, mother; these are To make your care the stronger; for the rest, A stranger! one the town holds a good regard of! I freely render to your charge. John. Nay, I will silence thee there. Land. No more words, Land. One that should weigh his fair name!-Nor no more children, good son, as you love me; Oh, a stitch! John. There's nothing better for a stitch, good mother, Make no spare of it as you love your health; Land. As I said, a gentleman This may do well. John. I shall observe your morals. About the like adventure; he told me, Able to ruin states, no safety left us, Duke. May he be drawn, And quarter'd too, that turns now; were I surer Of death than thou art of thy fears, and with death More than those fears are too 1 Gent. Sir, I fear not. Duke. I would not break my vow, start from my honour, Because I may find danger; wound my soul 1 Gent. I speak not, sir, Out of a baseness to ye. Duke. No, nor do not Out of a baseness leave me. What is danger Cowards and wicked livers: valiant minds So with their cause and swords do they do dangers. 2 Gent. You may, sir, But with what safety? 1 Gent. Since 'tis come to dying, That safety and civility ye wish for Beyond the moderation of a man, Dare enter here. Your own desires and inno For I am truly confident ye are honest. The abstract of all beauty, soul of sweetness! Defend me, honest thoughts, I shall grow wild else. What eyes are there! rather what little heavens, To stir men's contemplation! What a Paradise Runs through each part she has! Good blood, be temperate! I must look off: too excellent an object You shall perceive, sir, that here be those Confounds the sense that sees it. Noble lady, amongst us, Can die as decently as other men, And with as little ceremony. On, brave sir. 1 Gent. And he that flinches, May he die lousy in a ditch. There's no such danger in't. What's o'clock? Make no noise, and no trouble will attend us. If there be any further service to cast on me, Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye, Or the engagements of whole families. Con. Your service is too liberal, worthy sir. Thus far I shall entreat Fred. Command me, lady: You may make your power too poor. With all convenient haste, you will retire Fred. 'Tis done. [Exeunt. Con, There if you find a gentleman oppress'd |