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I would desire your grace; (for my mind gives me,
Before night yet she is yours) stop all opinion,
And let no anger out, till full cause call it ;
Then every man's own works to justify him!
And this day let us give to search. My man here
Tells me, by chance he saw out of a window
(Which place he has taken note of) such a face
As our old landlady's, he believes the same too,
And by her hood assures it: Let's first thither;
For, she being found, all's ended.

Duke. Come, for Heaven's sake!-
And, Fortune, an thou be'st not ever turning,
If there be one firm step in all thy reelings,
Now settle it, and save my hopes.-Away, friends.

[Exeunt.

SCENE 11.-A Room in ANTONIO's House.

Enter ANTONIO and his Servant.
Ant. With all my jewels?
Serv. All, sir.

Serv. The trunk broke, and that gone too.

Ant. Francisco of the plot?

Serv. Gone with the wench too.

Ant. The mighty pox go with 'em! Belike they thought

I was no man of this world, and those trifles
Would but disturb my conscience.

Serv. Sure they thought, sir,

You would not live to persecute 'em.

Ant. Whore and fiddler ?

Why, what a consort have they made! Hen and

bacon?

Well, my sweet mistress! well, good madam

Martail!

You that have hung about my neck, and lick'd me, I'll try how handsomely your ladyship

[piece.

Can hang upon a gallows; there's your master-
-But, hark ye, sirrah; no imagination
Of where they should be?

Serv. None, sir; yet we have search'd
All places we suspected. I believe, sir,
They have taken towards the ports.

Ant. Get me a conjurer,

One that can raise a water-devil: I'll port 'em! Play at duck and drake with my money? Take

heed, fiddler !

I'll dance ye, by this hand: your fiddle-stick

I'll grease of a new fashion, for presuming
To meddle with my de-gambos! Get me a conjurer;
Inquire me out a man that lets out devils.
None but my C cliffe serve your turn?
Serv. I know not-

Ant. In every street, Tom Fool! Any bleareyed people,

With red heads, and flat noses, can perform it: Thou shalt know 'em by their half-gowns and no breeches.

Mount my mare, fiddler? Ha, boy! up at first

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She is twice damn'd that lives in Hell,

When Heaven is shewn.

Budding beauty, blooming years,

Were made for pleasure. Farewell fears;
For now I am myself. mine own command,
My fortune always in my hand.

John. Was this her own voice?

Duke. Yes, sure,

Fred. 'Tis a rare one.

Bawd appears at the window.

Duke. The song confirms her here too; for, if It spake of liberty, and free enjoying [ye mark it, The happy end of pleasure.

Peter. Look you there, sir:

Do you know that head?

Fred. 'Tis my good landlady,

I find fear has done all this.

John. She, I swear;

And now do I know, by the hanging of her hood,

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Fred. She must be here, sir:

This is the very fellow, I told your grace

We found upon the way; and what his talk was. FRANCISCO appears at the window.

Petr. Why, sure I know this fellow: Yes, 'tis he; Francisco, Antonio's boy, a rare musician; He taught my sister on the lute, and is ever (She loves his voice so well) about her. Certain, Without all doubt, she is here: It must be so. John. Here? that's no question: What should our hen o' th' game else

Do here without her? If she be not here
(I am so confident) let your grace believe
We two are arrant rascals, and have abused you.
Fred. I say so too.

John. Why, there's the hood again now;

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Fred. This is the maddest song! Duke. Applied for certain

To some strange melancholy she is loaden with.
[Clapping of a door.

Fred. Now all the sport begins. Hark!
Duke. They are amongst 'em.

The fears now, and the shakings! [Trampling above.
Fred. Qur old lady

(Hark how they run) is even now at this instant

Ready to lose her head-piece by Don John,

Or creeping through a cat-hole.

Petr. [Within.] Bring 'em down;

And you, sir, follow me.

Duke. He's angry with 'em.

I must not suffer this.

John. [Within.] Bowl down the bawd there; Old Erra-mater. You, lady Lechery,

For the good will I bear to th' game, most tenderly Shall be led out, and lash'd.

Enter PETRUCCIO, JOHN, second CONSTANTIA, drunk, and Bawd, with FRANCISCO, who retires to the back of the Stage.

Duke. Is this Constantia ?

Why, gentlemen, what do you mean? Is this she? 2 Con. I am Constantia, sir.

Duke. A whore you are, sir !

2 Con. 'Tis very true; I am a whore indeed, sir. Petr. She will not lie yet, though she steal. 2 Con. A plain whore,

If you please to employ me.

Duke. And an impudent!

2 Con. Plain-dealing now is impudence.

One, if you will, sir, can shew you as much sport
In one half-hour, and with as much variety,
As a far wiser woman can in half-a-year:
For there my way lies.

Duke. Is she not drunk too?
2 Con. A little gilded o'er, sir.
Old sack, old sack, boys!

Petr. This is saliant.
John. A brave bold quean!
Duke. Is this your certainty?

Do ye know the man ye wrong thus, gentlemen?

Is this the woman meant?

Fred. No.

Duke. That your landlady?

John. I know not what to say.
Duke. Am I a person

To be your sport, gentlemen?

John. I do believe now certain

I am a knave! But how, or when

Duke. What are you?

Petr. Bawd to this piece of pye-meat.
Bawd. A poor gentlewoman,
That lies in town about law-business,
An't like your worships.

Petr. You shall have law, believe it.

Bawd. I'll shew your mastership my case.
Petr. By no means?

I had rather see a custard.

Bawd. My dead husband

Left it even thus, sir.

John. Bless mine eyes from blasting!
I was never so frighted with a case.
Bawd. And so, sir-

Petr. Enough; put up, good velvet head!
Duke. What are you two now,

By your own free confessions?

Fred. What you shall think us;
Though to myself I am certain, and my life

Shall make that good and perfect, or fall with itJohn. We are sure of nothing, Frederic, that's the truth on't;

I do not think my name's Don John, nor dare not
Believe any thing that concerns me, but my debts,
Nor those in way of payment. Things are so carried,
What to entreat your grace, or how to tell you
We are, or we are not, is past my cunning;
But I would fain imagine we are honest,
And, o' my conscience, I should fight in't.
Duke. Thus then ;

For we may be all abused

Petr. 'Tis possible;

For how should this concern them?

Duke. Here let's part,

Until to-morrow this time; we to our way;

To make this doubt out, and you to your way;
Pawning our honours then to meet again:
When, if she be not found-

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Belonging to a friend of mine.-Come out, fiddler; What say you to this lady? Be not fearful.

Fran. Saving the reverence of my master's pleasure,

I say, she is a whore, and that she has robb'd him, Hoping his hurts would kill him.

2 Con. Who provoked me?

Nay, sirrah Squeak; I'll see your treble strings
Tied up too: if I hang, I'll spoil your piping;
Your sweet face shall not save you.

Petr. Thou damn'd impudence,

And thou dried devil! Where's the officer?
Peter. He's here, sir.

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wild-fire,

And makes the blood dance through the veins like
I will reprieve this whore.
[billows.

Duke. Well, good luck with ye!
Fred. As much attend your grace.
Petr. To-morrow, certain-

John. If we outlive this night, sir.
Fred. Come, Don John,

We have something now to do.

John. I am sure I would have.

Fred. If she be not found, we must fight.
John. I am glad on't;

I have not fought a great while.

Fred. If we die-

John. There's so much money saved in lechery.

[Excunt.

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We know their tongues and business; 'tis our own.
And in this very cause that we now come for,
They also come to be instructed.
Vec. Let 'em in, then.

Enter FREDERIC, JOHN, and Servant.
Sit down; I know your meaning.

Fred. The duke before us?
Now we shall sure know something.
Vec. Not a question;

But make your eyes your tongues.
John. This is a strange juggler;

Neither indent before-hand for his payment,

Nor know the breadth o' th' business?

devil

Sure his

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Duke. And you can shew me

These things you promise?

Vec. Your grace's word bound to me,

No hand of law shall seize me.

Duke. As I live, sir!

Fetr. And as I live, that can do something too,

sir !

Gilding all the vales below

With your verdure, as ye blow,

Raise these forms from under ground,

With a soft and happy sound. [Soft Music.

John. This is an honest conjurer, and a pretty

poet :

I like his words well; there's no bombast in 'em.

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"Who calls Jeronimo from his naked bed?"
Sweet lady, was it you? If thou be'st the devil,
First, having cross'd myself, to keep out wildfire,
Then said some special prayers to defend me
Against thy most unhallow'd hood, have at thee!
Land. Hold, sir, I am no devil-
John. That's all one.

Land. I am your very landlady.
John. I defy thee!

Thus, as St. Dunstan blew the devil's nose
With a pair of tongs, even so, right worshipful-
Land. Sweet son, I am old Gillian.

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