APTNESS for mirth to all! This instant night Which he pleased to frequent; and thus much we For ourselves, we do entreat that you would not Men known to run mad with report before? Made now-a-days of malt, that their affections Anth. Pr'ythee be thou sober, And know, that they are none of those; not guilty Peter. 'Would they were settled To give me some new shoes too! for I'll be sworn Anth. Mar a fool's head! Peter. It will mar two fools' heads, an they take not heed. Besides the giblets to 'em. Anth. Will you walk, sir, And talk more out of hearing? your fool's head May chance to find a wooden night-cap else. Peter. I never lay in any. Anth. Then leave your lying, And your blind prophesying. Enter DON JOHN and FREDERIC. Here they come ; You had best tell them as much. Peter. I am no tell-tale. [Exeunt PETER and ANTHONY. John. I would we could have seen her though; for sure She must be some rare creature, or report lies, Fred. I could well wish I had seen her; 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, or believe her; But, as she came, a strong report unto me, So the next fame shall lose her. Fred. 'Tis the next way. But whither are you walking? After my meat, and then to bed. John. Will not you stir? John. Upon my life, this lady still- John. I have something to impart. I will not miss to meet you. possible I wish it with my soul, so much I tremble Honour, my noble friends, that idol Honour, Ant. Let it once be done, And 'tis no matter whether you, or Honour, 2 Gent. Do you weigh, Petruccio, The value of the person, power and greatness, Petr. To perform it, So much I am tied to reputation, And credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires John. The civil order of this town, Bologna, My admiration has drawn night upon me, Which all good governments are jealous of: foul play, I'll venture to look in; if there be knaves, Woman. [Within.] Signor? John. What? How is this? Woman. [Within.] Signor Fabritio ? Woman. [Within.] Fabritio? John. This is a woman's tongue; here may be good done. Woman. [Within.] Who's there? Fabritio? Woman. [Within.] Where are you? Woman. [Within.] Oh, come, for Heaven's Enter Woman, with a Bundle from the House. Woman. I have staid this long hour for you. Make no noise, For things are in strange trouble. Here; be secret ; 'Tis worth your care. Be gone now; More eyes watch us Than may be for our safeties. John. Hark you! [Gives him the Bundle. [Exit. Woman. Peace! Good night. It weighs well, and it feels well; it may chance Enter FREDERIC. Fred. 'Tis strange [Exit. I cannot meet him; sure he has encounter'd Enter DON JOHN, with a Child in his arms. John. Was ever man so paid for being curious, Ever so bobb'd for searching out adventures, As I am? Did the devil lead me? Must I needs be peeping Into men's houses, where I had no business, Under another's name, to make the matter me, [chased Well lined within. To leave it here were barbarous, The good old gentlewoman, at whose house we live, Fred. Sure he's gone home: I have beaten all the purlieus, But cannot bolt him. If he be a-bobbing, 'Tis not my care can cure him: To-morrow morning I shall have further knowledge from a surgeon's, Where he lies moor'd, to mend his leaks. Enter CONSTANTIA veiled, from the House. Con. I am ready, And through a world of dangers am flown to you; Be full of haste and care, we are undone else. Where are your people? which way must we travel? For Heaven sake stay not here, sir. Fred. What may this prove? Con. Alas, I am mistaken, lost, undone, For ever perish'd !-Sir, for Heaven sake, tell me, Are you a gentleman ? Fred. I am. Con. Of this place? Fred. No, born in Spain. Con. As ever you loved honour, As ever your desires may gain their ends, Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit, For I am forced to trust you! Fred. You have charm'd me; Humanity and honour bid me help you, And if I fail your trust Con. The time's too dangerous To stay your protestations: I believe you— Alas, I must believe you. 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 fears and dangers That force me to this wild course, at more leisure I shall reveal unto you. Fred. Come, be hearty; He must strike through my life that takes you from me. SCENE VII.-Another Street. [Exeunt. Enter PETRUCCIO, ANTONIO, and two Gentlemen. Petr. He will sure come. Are ye well arm'd? Ant. Ne'er fear us : Here's that will make 'em dance without a fiddle. Petr. We are to look for no weak foes, my friends, Nor unadvised ones. Ant. Best gamesters make the best game; We shall fight close and handsome then. 1 Gent. Antonio, You are a thought too bloody. Ant. Why? All physicians And penny almanacks allow the opening 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 Saint Jaques, They shall not find me one! Here's old tough A special friend of mine; an he but hold, As I directed ye, and when time calls us, [Exeunt. SCENE VIII.—A Room in the Landlady's House. Enter DON JOHN, with the Child, and Landlady. Land. Nay, son, if this be your regard- Land. Good me no goods! Your cousin and yourself Are welcome to me, whilst you bear yourselves John. I know you have. Land. Bring hither, as I say, (to make my name You are deceived 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. You found an easy fool that let you get it; She had better have worn pasterns. John. Will you hear me? Land. Oaths? what do you care for oaths, to gain You will then swear like accused cut-purses, John. Heaven forbid, mother. John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine. I must even make her drunk. [Apart.] Nay, gentle mother! Land. Now, fy upon ye! Was it for this purpose You fetch'd your evening-walks for your digestions? For this, pretended holiness? No weather, Not before day, could hold you from the matins. Were these your bo-peep prayers? You have pray'd well, And with a learned zeal; watch'd well too. Your saint, It seems, was pleased as well. Still sicker, sicker! Enter ANTHONY, 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; "Twill purge spleen from your spirits: Deeper, mother. Land. Ay, ay, son, you imagine this will mend [Drinks. all. Alas, you look not well; take a round draught (It warms the blood well, and restores the colour), And then we'll talk at large. Land.. A civil gentleman ? A stranger? one the town holds a good regard of? John. Nay, I will silence thee. Land. One that should weigh his fair name?— Oh, a stitch! John. I thought my labour Was not all lost. "Tis gold, and these are jeweis, Both rich, and right, I hope. Land. Well, well, son John, I see you are a woodman, and can chuse Is not yet lost; this was well clapt aboard: Do where ye may be done to, 'tis a wisdom Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, signor; Trade with no broken merchants, make your lading John. All this time, mother, The child wants looking-to, wants meat and nurses. Land. Now blessing o' thy care! It shall have And instantly; I'll seek a nurse myself, son. [all, 'Tis a sweet child!-Ah, my young Spaniard !– Take you no further care, sir. John. Yes, of these jewels, I must, by your leave, mother. These are yours, To make your care the stronger; for the rest I'll find a master. The gold, for bringing up on't, I freely render to your charge. Land. No more words, Nor no more children, good son, as you love me : This may do well. John. I shall observe your morals. About the like adventure; he told me, [Exit. John. Why should he stay thus? John. There's nothing better for a stitch, good I'll seek my friend out, and my care is eased. mother; John. Dear mother, I ever found your kindness, and acknowledge it. Land. No, no, I am a fool to counsel you. Where's the infant? Come, let's see your workmanship. John. None of mine, mother; But there 'tis, and a lusty one. [Gives her the child. Thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is, John. I am glad on't. Land. Bless me, what things are these? SCENE IX.-A Street. Enter DUKE and Gentlemen. [Exit. |