Enter 2. Serving-men, PeterandAnthony.
Peter.Iwouldwe were remov'd from this town,Anthony,That we might taste some quiet; for mine own part,I'm almost melted with continual trottingAfter enquiries, dreams, and revelations,Of who knows whom, or where? serve wenching soldiers,That knows no other Paradise but Plackets:I'll serve a Priest in Lent first, and eat Bell-ropes.Ant.Thou art the froward'st fool—Pet.Why, good tameAnthonie?Tell me but this; to what end came we hither?Ant.To wait upon our Masters.Pet.But how,Anthony?Answer me that; resolve me there, goodAnthony?Ant.To serve their uses.Pet.Shew your uses,Anthony.Ant.To be imploy'd in any thing.Pet.NoAnthony,Not any thing I take it; nor that thingWe travel to discover, like new islands;A salt itch serve such uses; in things of momentConcerning things, I grant ye, not things errant,Sweet Ladies things, and things to thank the Surgeon;In no such things, sweetAnthony, put case—Ant.Come, come, all will be mended; this invisible womanOf infinite report for shape and vertue,That bred us all this trouble to no purpose,They are determin'd now no more to think on,But fall close to their studies.Pet.Was there everMen known to run mad with report before?Or wonder after [that] they know not whereTo find? or if found, how to enjoy? are mens brainsMade now adays of malt, that their affectionsAre never sober? but like drunken PeopleFounder at every new Fame? I do believe tooThat men in love are ever drunk, as drunken menAre ever loving.Ant.Prithee be thou sober,And know, that they are none of those, not guiltyOf the least vanity of love, only a doubtFame might too far report, or rather flatterThe Graces of this Woman, made them curiousTo find the truth, which since they find so blockedAnd lockt up from their searches, they are now setledTo give the wonder over.Pet.Would they were setledTo give me some new shoos too: for I'll be swornThese are e'en worn out to the reasonable soulsIn their good worships business; and some sleepWould not do much amiss, unless they meanTo make a Bell-man on me; and what nowMean they to study,Anthony, moral PhilosophyAfter their mar-all women?Ant.Mar a fools head.Pet.'Twill mar two fools heads and they take not heed,Besides the Giblets to 'em.Ant.Will you walk, Sir,And talk more out of hearing? your fools headMay chance to find a wooden night-cap else.Pet.I never lay in any.
Peter.Iwouldwe were remov'd from this town,Anthony,That we might taste some quiet; for mine own part,I'm almost melted with continual trottingAfter enquiries, dreams, and revelations,Of who knows whom, or where? serve wenching soldiers,That knows no other Paradise but Plackets:I'll serve a Priest in Lent first, and eat Bell-ropes.
Ant.Thou art the froward'st fool—
Pet.Why, good tameAnthonie?Tell me but this; to what end came we hither?
Ant.To wait upon our Masters.
Pet.But how,Anthony?Answer me that; resolve me there, goodAnthony?
Ant.To serve their uses.
Pet.Shew your uses,Anthony.
Ant.To be imploy'd in any thing.
Pet.NoAnthony,Not any thing I take it; nor that thingWe travel to discover, like new islands;A salt itch serve such uses; in things of momentConcerning things, I grant ye, not things errant,Sweet Ladies things, and things to thank the Surgeon;In no such things, sweetAnthony, put case—
Ant.Come, come, all will be mended; this invisible womanOf infinite report for shape and vertue,That bred us all this trouble to no purpose,They are determin'd now no more to think on,But fall close to their studies.
Pet.Was there everMen known to run mad with report before?Or wonder after [that] they know not whereTo find? or if found, how to enjoy? are mens brainsMade now adays of malt, that their affectionsAre never sober? but like drunken PeopleFounder at every new Fame? I do believe tooThat men in love are ever drunk, as drunken menAre ever loving.
Ant.Prithee be thou sober,And know, that they are none of those, not guiltyOf the least vanity of love, only a doubtFame might too far report, or rather flatterThe Graces of this Woman, made them curiousTo find the truth, which since they find so blockedAnd lockt up from their searches, they are now setledTo give the wonder over.
Pet.Would they were setledTo give me some new shoos too: for I'll be swornThese are e'en worn out to the reasonable soulsIn their good worships business; and some sleepWould not do much amiss, unless they meanTo make a Bell-man on me; and what nowMean they to study,Anthony, moral PhilosophyAfter their mar-all women?
Ant.Mar a fools head.
Pet.'Twill mar two fools heads and they take not heed,Besides the Giblets to 'em.
Ant.Will you walk, Sir,And talk more out of hearing? your fools headMay chance to find a wooden night-cap else.
Pet.I never lay in any.
Enter DonJohn,andFrederick.
Ant.Then leave your lying,And your blind prophesying: here they come,You had best tell them as much.Pet.I am no tell-tale.[Exeunt.John.I would we could have seen her though; for sureShe must be some rare Creature, or Report lies.All mens Reports too.Fred.I could well wish I had seen her;But since she is so conceal'd, so beyond ventureKept and preserv'd from view, so like a Paradise,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 hourIf 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?John.My old RoundAfter my meat, and then to Bed.Fred.'Tis healthful.John.Will not you stir?Fred.I have a little business.Joh.Upon my life this Lady still—Fred.Then you will lose it.John.'Pray let's walk together.Fred.Now I cannot.John.I have something to impart.Fred.An hour henceI will not miss to meet you.John.Where?Fred.I'th' high street;For not to lie, I have a few DevotionsTo do first, then I am yours.John.Remember.[Exeunt.
Ant.Then leave your lying,And your blind prophesying: here they come,You had best tell them as much.
Pet.I am no tell-tale.[Exeunt.
John.I would we could have seen her though; for sureShe must be some rare Creature, or Report lies.All mens Reports too.
Fred.I could well wish I had seen her;But since she is so conceal'd, so beyond ventureKept and preserv'd from view, so like a Paradise,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 hourIf 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?
John.My old RoundAfter my meat, and then to Bed.
Fred.'Tis healthful.
John.Will not you stir?
Fred.I have a little business.
Joh.Upon my life this Lady still—
Fred.Then you will lose it.
John.'Pray let's walk together.
Fred.Now I cannot.
John.I have something to impart.
Fred.An hour henceI will not miss to meet you.
John.Where?
Fred.I'th' high street;For not to lie, I have a few DevotionsTo do first, then I am yours.
John.Remember.[Exeunt.
EnterPetruchio, Antonio,and two Gentlemen.
Ant.Cut his wind-pipe I say.1 Gent.Fye,Antonio.Ant.Or knock his brains out first, and then forgive him,If you do thrust, be sure it be to th'hilts,A Surgeon may see through him.1 Gent.You are too violent.2 Gent.Too open undiscreet.Pet.Am I not ruin'd?The honour of my house crack'd? my bloud poyson'd?My Credit and my Name?2 Gent.Be sure it be so,Before ye use this violence: Let not doubt,And a suspecting anger so much sway ye,Your wisedom may be question'd.Ant.I say kill him,And then dispute the cause; cut off what may be,And what is shall be safe.2 Gent.Hang up a true man,Because 'tis possible he may be thievish!Alas, is this good Justice?Pet.I know as certainAs day must come again, as clear as truth,And open as belief can lay it to me,That I am basely wrong'd, wrong'd above recompence;Maliciously abus'd, blasted for everIn name and honour, lost to all remembrance,But what is smear'd, and shameful; I must kill him,Necessity compells me.1 Gent.But think better.Pet.There is no other cure left; yet witness with me,All that is fair in man, all that is noble,I am not greedy of this life I seek for,Nor thirst to shed mans blood, and would 'twere possible,I wish it with my soul, so much I trembleTo offend the sacred Image of my Maker,My Sword could only kill his Crimes; no, 'tis Honour,Honour, my noble friends, that Idol, Honour,That all the world now worships, notPetruchioMust do this Justice.Ant.Let it once be done,And 'tis no matter, whether you, or honour,Or both, be accessary.2 Gent.Do you weigh,Petruchio,The value of the person, power, and greatness,And what this spark may kindle?Pet.To perform it,So much I am ty'd to Reputation,And Credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires,That all this Dukedom smoak, and storms that toss meInto the waves of everlasting ruine,Yet I must through; if ye dare side me.Ant.Dare?Pet.Y'are friends indeed, if not.2 Gent.Here's none flyes from you,Do it in what design ye please, we'll back ye.1 Gent.But then be sure ye kill him.2 Gent.Is the causeSo mortal, nothing but his life?Pet.Believe me,A less offence has been the desolationOf a whole name.2 Gent.No other way to purge it?Pet.There is, but never to be hoped for.2 Gent.Think an hour more,And if then ye find no safer Road to guide ye,We'll set up our Rests too.Ant.Mine's up already,And hang him for my partGoes less than life.2 Gent.If we see noble cause, 'tis like our SwordsMay be as free and forward as your words.[Exeunt.
Ant.Cut his wind-pipe I say.
1 Gent.Fye,Antonio.
Ant.Or knock his brains out first, and then forgive him,If you do thrust, be sure it be to th'hilts,A Surgeon may see through him.
1 Gent.You are too violent.
2 Gent.Too open undiscreet.
Pet.Am I not ruin'd?The honour of my house crack'd? my bloud poyson'd?My Credit and my Name?
2 Gent.Be sure it be so,Before ye use this violence: Let not doubt,And a suspecting anger so much sway ye,Your wisedom may be question'd.
Ant.I say kill him,And then dispute the cause; cut off what may be,And what is shall be safe.
2 Gent.Hang up a true man,Because 'tis possible he may be thievish!Alas, is this good Justice?
Pet.I know as certainAs day must come again, as clear as truth,And open as belief can lay it to me,That I am basely wrong'd, wrong'd above recompence;Maliciously abus'd, blasted for everIn name and honour, lost to all remembrance,But what is smear'd, and shameful; I must kill him,Necessity compells me.
1 Gent.But think better.
Pet.There is no other cure left; yet witness with me,All that is fair in man, all that is noble,I am not greedy of this life I seek for,Nor thirst to shed mans blood, and would 'twere possible,I wish it with my soul, so much I trembleTo offend the sacred Image of my Maker,My Sword could only kill his Crimes; no, 'tis Honour,Honour, my noble friends, that Idol, Honour,That all the world now worships, notPetruchioMust do this Justice.
Ant.Let it once be done,And 'tis no matter, whether you, or honour,Or both, be accessary.
2 Gent.Do you weigh,Petruchio,The value of the person, power, and greatness,And what this spark may kindle?
Pet.To perform it,So much I am ty'd to Reputation,And Credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires,That all this Dukedom smoak, and storms that toss meInto the waves of everlasting ruine,Yet I must through; if ye dare side me.
Ant.Dare?
Pet.Y'are friends indeed, if not.
2 Gent.Here's none flyes from you,Do it in what design ye please, we'll back ye.
1 Gent.But then be sure ye kill him.
2 Gent.Is the causeSo mortal, nothing but his life?
Pet.Believe me,A less offence has been the desolationOf a whole name.
2 Gent.No other way to purge it?
Pet.There is, but never to be hoped for.
2 Gent.Think an hour more,And if then ye find no safer Road to guide ye,We'll set up our Rests too.
Ant.Mine's up already,And hang him for my partGoes less than life.
2 Gent.If we see noble cause, 'tis like our SwordsMay be as free and forward as your words.[Exeunt.
Enter DonJohn.
John.The civil order of this Town,Bologna,Makes it belov'd and honour'd of all Travellers,As a most safe retirement in all troubles;Beside the wholsome seat, and noble temperOf those minds that inhabit it, safely wise,And to all strangers vertuous; But I seeMy admiration has drawn night upon me,And longer to expect my friend may pull meInto suspicion of too late a stirrer,Which all good Governments are jealous of.I'll home, and think at liberty: yet certain,'Tis not so far night as I thought; for see,A fair house yet stands open, yet all about itAre close, and no lights stirring, there may be foul play;I'le venture to look in: if there be knaves,I may do a good office.[Woman within.Within.Signieur?John.What? how is this?Within.SignieurFabritio?John.I'le go nearer.Within.Fabritio?Joh.This is a womans tongue, here may be good done.Within.Who's there?Fabritio?John.I.Within.Where are ye?Joh.Here.Within.O come, for Heavens sake!Joh.I must see what this means.
John.The civil order of this Town,Bologna,Makes it belov'd and honour'd of all Travellers,As a most safe retirement in all troubles;Beside the wholsome seat, and noble temperOf those minds that inhabit it, safely wise,And to all strangers vertuous; But I seeMy admiration has drawn night upon me,And longer to expect my friend may pull meInto suspicion of too late a stirrer,Which all good Governments are jealous of.I'll home, and think at liberty: yet certain,'Tis not so far night as I thought; for see,A fair house yet stands open, yet all about itAre close, and no lights stirring, there may be foul play;I'le venture to look in: if there be knaves,I may do a good office.[Woman within.
Within.Signieur?
John.What? how is this?
Within.SignieurFabritio?
John.I'le go nearer.
Within.Fabritio?
Joh.This is a womans tongue, here may be good done.
Within.Who's there?Fabritio?
John.I.
Within.Where are ye?
Joh.Here.
Within.O come, for Heavens sake!
Joh.I must see what this means.
Enter Woman with a Child.
Within.I have stay'd this long hour for you, make no noise,For things are in strange trouble: here, be secret,'Tis worth your care; begon now; more eyes watch us,Than may be for our safeties.Joh.Hark ye?Within.Peace: good night.Joh.She is gone, and I am loaden; fortune for me;It weighs well, and it feels well; it may chanceTo be some pack of worth: byth' mass 'tis heavie;If it be Coyn or Jewels, 'tis worth welcom:I'le ne're refuse a fortune: I am confident'Tis of no common price: now to my lodging:If it hit right, I'le bless this night.[Exit.
Within.I have stay'd this long hour for you, make no noise,For things are in strange trouble: here, be secret,'Tis worth your care; begon now; more eyes watch us,Than may be for our safeties.
Joh.Hark ye?
Within.Peace: good night.
Joh.She is gone, and I am loaden; fortune for me;It weighs well, and it feels well; it may chanceTo be some pack of worth: byth' mass 'tis heavie;If it be Coyn or Jewels, 'tis worth welcom:I'le ne're refuse a fortune: I am confident'Tis of no common price: now to my lodging:If it hit right, I'le bless this night.[Exit.
EnterFrederick.
Fred.'Tis strange,I cannot meet him; sure he has encountredSome light o' love or other, and there meansTo play at in and in for this night. WellDon John,If you do spring a leak, or get an itch,Till ye claw off your curl'd pate, thank your night-walks:You must be still a bootehalling: one round more,Though it be late, I'le venture to discover ye,I do not like your out-leaps.[Exit.
Fred.'Tis strange,I cannot meet him; sure he has encountredSome light o' love or other, and there meansTo play at in and in for this night. WellDon John,If you do spring a leak, or get an itch,Till ye claw off your curl'd pate, thank your night-walks:You must be still a bootehalling: one round more,Though it be late, I'le venture to discover ye,I do not like your out-leaps.[Exit.
EnterDuke,and 3 Gentlemen.
Duke.Welcom to Town, are ye all fit?1 Gent.To point Sir.Duke.Where are the horses?2 Gent.Where they were appointed.Duke.Be private, and whatsoever fortuneOffer it self, let's stand sure.3 Gent.Fear not us,E're ye shall be endangered, or deluded,We'll make a black night on't.Duke.No more, I know it;You know your Quarters?1 Gent.Will you go alone Sir?Du.Ye shall not be far from me, the least noiseShall bring ye to my rescue.2 Gent.We are counsell'd.[Exeunt.
Duke.Welcom to Town, are ye all fit?
1 Gent.To point Sir.
Duke.Where are the horses?
2 Gent.Where they were appointed.
Duke.Be private, and whatsoever fortuneOffer it self, let's stand sure.
3 Gent.Fear not us,E're ye shall be endangered, or deluded,We'll make a black night on't.
Duke.No more, I know it;You know your Quarters?
1 Gent.Will you go alone Sir?
Du.Ye shall not be far from me, the least noiseShall bring ye to my rescue.
2 Gent.We are counsell'd.[Exeunt.
Enter DonJohn.
John.Was ever man so paid for being curious?Ever so bob'd for searching out adventures,As I am? did the Devil lead me? must I needs be peepingInto mens houses where I had no business,And make my self a mischief? 'Tis well carried;I must take other mens occasions on me,And be I know not whom: most finely handled:What have I got by this now? what's the purchase?A piece of evening Arras work, a child,Indeed an Infidel: this comes of peeping:A lump got out of laziness; good white breadLet's have no bawling with ye: 'sdeath, have IKnown wenches thus long, all the ways of wenchesTheir snares and subtilties? have I read overAll their School learnings, div'd into their quiddits,And am I now bum-fidled with a Bastard?Fetch'd over with a Card of five, and in mine old days,After the dire massacre of a millionOf Maiden-heads? caught the common way, i'th' night tooUnder anothers name, to make the matterCarry more weight about it? wellDon John,You will be wiser one day, when ye have purchas'dA heavy of these Butter-prints together,With searching out conceal'd iniquities,Without commission: why, it would never grieve me,If I had got this Ginger-bread: never stirr'd me,So I had had a stroak for't: 't had been JusticeThen to have kept it; but to raise a dayrieFor other mens adulteries, consume my self in candles,And scowring works, in Nurses Bells and Babies,Only for charity, for meer I thank you,A little troubles me: the least touch for it,Had but my breeches got it, had contented me.Whose e're it is, sure 't had a wealthy Mother,For 'tis well cloathed, and if I be not cozen'd,Well lin'd within: to leave it here were barbarous,And ten to one would kill it: a more sinThen his that got it: well, I will dispose on't,And keep it, as they keep deaths heads in rings,To crymementoto me; no more peeping.Now all the danger is to qualifieThe good old gentlewoman, at whose house we live,For she will fall upon me with a CatechismOf four hours long: I must endure all;For I will know this Mother: Come good wonder,Let you and I be jogging: your starv'd trebbleWill waken the rude watch else: all that beCurious night-walkers, may they find my fee.[Exit.
John.Was ever man so paid for being curious?Ever so bob'd for searching out adventures,As I am? did the Devil lead me? must I needs be peepingInto mens houses where I had no business,And make my self a mischief? 'Tis well carried;I must take other mens occasions on me,And be I know not whom: most finely handled:What have I got by this now? what's the purchase?A piece of evening Arras work, a child,Indeed an Infidel: this comes of peeping:A lump got out of laziness; good white breadLet's have no bawling with ye: 'sdeath, have IKnown wenches thus long, all the ways of wenchesTheir snares and subtilties? have I read overAll their School learnings, div'd into their quiddits,And am I now bum-fidled with a Bastard?Fetch'd over with a Card of five, and in mine old days,After the dire massacre of a millionOf Maiden-heads? caught the common way, i'th' night tooUnder anothers name, to make the matterCarry more weight about it? wellDon John,You will be wiser one day, when ye have purchas'dA heavy of these Butter-prints together,With searching out conceal'd iniquities,Without commission: why, it would never grieve me,If I had got this Ginger-bread: never stirr'd me,So I had had a stroak for't: 't had been JusticeThen to have kept it; but to raise a dayrieFor other mens adulteries, consume my self in candles,And scowring works, in Nurses Bells and Babies,Only for charity, for meer I thank you,A little troubles me: the least touch for it,Had but my breeches got it, had contented me.Whose e're it is, sure 't had a wealthy Mother,For 'tis well cloathed, and if I be not cozen'd,Well lin'd within: to leave it here were barbarous,And ten to one would kill it: a more sinThen his that got it: well, I will dispose on't,And keep it, as they keep deaths heads in rings,To crymementoto me; no more peeping.Now all the danger is to qualifieThe good old gentlewoman, at whose house we live,For she will fall upon me with a CatechismOf four hours long: I must endure all;For I will know this Mother: Come good wonder,Let you and I be jogging: your starv'd trebbleWill waken the rude watch else: all that beCurious night-walkers, may they find my fee.[Exit.
EnterFrederick.
Fred.Sure he's gone home:I have beaten all the purlews,But cannot bolt him: if he be a bobbing,'Tis not my care can cure him: To morrow morningI shall have further knowledge from a Surgeon's—Where he lyes moor'd, to mend his leaks.
Fred.Sure he's gone home:I have beaten all the purlews,But cannot bolt him: if he be a bobbing,'Tis not my care can cure him: To morrow morningI shall have further knowledge from a Surgeon's—Where he lyes moor'd, to mend his leaks.
EnterConstantia.
Con.I'm ready,And through a world of dangers am flown to ye.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 ye a Gentleman?Fred.I am.Con.Of this place?Fred.No, born inSpain.Con.As ever you lov'd honour,As ever your desires may gain their ends,Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit,For I am forc'd to trust ye.Fred.Y'ave charm'd me,Humanity and honour bids me help ye;And if I fail your trust.—Con.The time's too dangerousTo 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 your self,And honest conversation may come near me,In some secure place se[t]tle me: what I amAnd why thus boldly I commit my creditInto a strangers hand, the fears and dangers,That force me to this wild course, at more leisureI shall reveal unto you.Fred.Come, be hearty,He must strike through my life that takes ye from me.[Exeunt.
Con.I'm ready,And through a world of dangers am flown to ye.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 ye a Gentleman?
Fred.I am.
Con.Of this place?
Fred.No, born inSpain.
Con.As ever you lov'd honour,As ever your desires may gain their ends,Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit,For I am forc'd to trust ye.
Fred.Y'ave charm'd me,Humanity and honour bids me help ye;And if I fail your trust.—
Con.The time's too dangerousTo 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 your self,And honest conversation may come near me,In some secure place se[t]tle me: what I amAnd why thus boldly I commit my creditInto a strangers hand, the fears and dangers,That force me to this wild course, at more leisureI shall reveal unto you.
Fred.Come, be hearty,He must strike through my life that takes ye from me.[Exeunt.
EnterPetruchio, Antonio,and 2 Gent.
Petr.He will sure come. Are ye well arm'd?Ant.Never 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 handsom then.1 Gent.Antonio,You are a thought too bloudy.Ant.Why? all PhysiciansAnd penny Almanacks allow the openingOf veins this moneth: why do ye talk of bloudy?What come we for, to fall to cuffes for apples?What, would ye make the cause a Cudgel quarrel?On what terms stands this man? is not his honourOpen'd to his hand, and pickt out like an Oyster?His credit like a quart pot knockt together,Able to hold no liquor? clear but this point.Petr.Speak softly, gentle cousin.Ant.I'le speak truly;What should men do ally'd to these disgraces,Lick o're his enemie, sit down, and dance him?2 Gent.You are as far o'th' bow hand now.Ant.And crie;That's my fine boy, thou wilt do so no more child.Petr.Here are no such cold pities.Ant.By SaintJaquesThey shall not find me one: here's old toughAndrew,A special friend of mine, and he but hold,I'le strike 'em such a hornpipe: knocks I come for,And the best bloud I light on; I profess it,Not to scare Coster-mongers; If I lose mine own,Mine audits cast, and farewel five and fifty.Pet.Let's talk no longer, place your selves with silence,As I directed ye, and when time calls us,As ye are friends, so shew your selves.Ant.So be it.[Exeunt.
Petr.He will sure come. Are ye well arm'd?
Ant.Never 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 handsom then.
1 Gent.Antonio,You are a thought too bloudy.
Ant.Why? all PhysiciansAnd penny Almanacks allow the openingOf veins this moneth: why do ye talk of bloudy?What come we for, to fall to cuffes for apples?What, would ye make the cause a Cudgel quarrel?On what terms stands this man? is not his honourOpen'd to his hand, and pickt out like an Oyster?His credit like a quart pot knockt together,Able to hold no liquor? clear but this point.
Petr.Speak softly, gentle cousin.
Ant.I'le speak truly;What should men do ally'd to these disgraces,Lick o're his enemie, sit down, and dance him?
2 Gent.You are as far o'th' bow hand now.
Ant.And crie;That's my fine boy, thou wilt do so no more child.
Petr.Here are no such cold pities.
Ant.By SaintJaquesThey shall not find me one: here's old toughAndrew,A special friend of mine, and he but hold,I'le strike 'em such a hornpipe: knocks I come for,And the best bloud I light on; I profess it,Not to scare Coster-mongers; If I lose mine own,Mine audits cast, and farewel five and fifty.
Pet.Let's talk no longer, place your selves with silence,As I directed ye, and when time calls us,As ye are friends, so shew your selves.
Ant.So be it.[Exeunt.
Enter DonJohn,and his Land-lady.
Land.Nay Son, if this be your regard.John.Good Mother.Lan.Good me no goods; your cousin, and your selfAre welcom to me, whilst you bear your selvesLike honest and true Gentlemen: Bring hitherTo my house, that have ever been reputedA Gentlewoman of a decent, and fair carriage,And so behav'd my self—John.I know ye have.Lan.Bring hither, as I say, to make my nameStink in my neighbours nostrils? your Devises,Your Brats, got out of Alligant, and broken oaths?Your Linsey Woolsy work, your hasty puddings?I, foster up your filch'd iniquities?Y'are deceiv'd in me, Sir, I am noneOf those receivers.John.Have I not sworn unto you,'Tis none of mine, and shew'd you how I found it?Land.Ye found an easie fool that let you get it,She had better have worn pasterns.John.Will ye hear me?Lan.Oaths? what do you care for oaths to gain your ends,When ye are high and pamper'd? What Saint know ye?Or what Religion, but your purpos'd lewdness,Is to be look'd for of ye? nay, I will tell ye,You will then swear like accus'd Cut-purses,As far off truth too; and lye beyond all Faulconers:I'me sick to see this dealing.John.Heaven forbid Mother.Lan.Nay, I am very sick.John.Who waits there?Ant.Sir.[Within.John.Bring down the bottle of Canary wine.Lan.Exceeding sick, Heav'n help me.John.Haste ye Sirrah,I must ev'n make her drunk; nay gentle mother.Lan.Now fie upon ye, was it for this purposeYou fetch'd your evening walks for your digestions,For this pretended holiness? no weather,Not before day could hold ye from the Matins.Were these your bo-peep prayers? ye'have pray'd well,And with a learned zeal: watcht well too; your SaintIt seems was pleas'd as well: still sicker, sicker.
Land.Nay Son, if this be your regard.
John.Good Mother.
Lan.Good me no goods; your cousin, and your selfAre welcom to me, whilst you bear your selvesLike honest and true Gentlemen: Bring hitherTo my house, that have ever been reputedA Gentlewoman of a decent, and fair carriage,And so behav'd my self—
John.I know ye have.
Lan.Bring hither, as I say, to make my nameStink in my neighbours nostrils? your Devises,Your Brats, got out of Alligant, and broken oaths?Your Linsey Woolsy work, your hasty puddings?I, foster up your filch'd iniquities?Y'are deceiv'd in me, Sir, I am noneOf those receivers.
John.Have I not sworn unto you,'Tis none of mine, and shew'd you how I found it?
Land.Ye found an easie fool that let you get it,She had better have worn pasterns.
John.Will ye hear me?
Lan.Oaths? what do you care for oaths to gain your ends,When ye are high and pamper'd? What Saint know ye?Or what Religion, but your purpos'd lewdness,Is to be look'd for of ye? nay, I will tell ye,You will then swear like accus'd Cut-purses,As far off truth too; and lye beyond all Faulconers:I'me sick to see this dealing.
John.Heaven forbid Mother.
Lan.Nay, I am very sick.
John.Who waits there?
Ant.Sir.[Within.
John.Bring down the bottle of Canary wine.
Lan.Exceeding sick, Heav'n help me.
John.Haste ye Sirrah,I must ev'n make her drunk; nay gentle mother.
Lan.Now fie upon ye, was it for this purposeYou fetch'd your evening walks for your digestions,For this pretended holiness? no weather,Not before day could hold ye from the Matins.Were these your bo-peep prayers? ye'have pray'd well,And with a learned zeal: watcht well too; your SaintIt seems was pleas'd as well: still sicker, sicker.
EnterAnthony,with a bottle of wine.
Joh.There is no talking to her till I have drencht her.Give me: here mother take a good round draught,'Twill purge spleen from your spirits: deeper mother.Lan.I, I, son, you imagine this will mend all.John.All i' faith Mother.Lan.I confess the WineWill do his part.John.I'le pledge ye.Lan.But sonJohn.Joh.I know your meaning mother; touch it once more,Alas you look not well; take a round draught,It warms the bloud well, and restores the colour,And then we'll talk at large.Lan.A civil Gentleman?A stranger? one the Town holds a good regard of?John.Nay I will silence thee.Lan.One that should weigh his fair name? oh, a stitch!Joh.There's nothing better for a stitch, good Mother,Make no spare of it, as you love your health,Mince not the matter.Land.As I said, a Gentleman,Lodge in my house? now heav'ns my comfort, Signior!John.I look'd for this.Lan.I did not think you would have us'd me thus;A woman of my credit: one, heaven knows,That lov'd you but too tenderly.John.Dear Mother,I ever found your kindness, and [ac]knowledge it.Lan.No, no, I am a fool to counsel ye. Where's the infant?Come, let's see your Workmanship.John.None of mine, Mother,But there 'tis, and a lusty one.Land.Heaven bless thee,Thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is,'Tis many a good mans fortune: as I liveYour own eyes Signior, and the nether lipAs like ye, as ye had spit it.John.I am glad on't.Lan.Bless me, what things are these?John.I thought my labourWas not all lost, 'tis gold, and these are jewels,Both rich, and right I hope.Lan.Well, well sonJohn,I see ye are a wood-man, and can chuseYour dear, though it be i'th' dark, all your discretionIs not yet lost; this was well clapt aboard:Here I am with you now; when as they sayYour pleasure comes with profit; when ye must needs do,Do where ye may be done to, 'tis a wisedomBecomes a young man well: be sure of one thing,Lose not your labour and your time together,It seasons of a fool, son, time is pretious,Work wary whilst ye have it: since ye must traffickSometimes this slippery way, take sure hold Signior,Trade with no broken Merchants, make your lading,As you would make your rest, adventurously,But with advantage ever.John.All this time Mother,The child wants looking to, wants meat and Nurses.Lan.Now blessing o' thy care; it shall have all,And instantly; I'le seek a Nurse my self, son;'Tis a sweet child: ah my youngSpaniard,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 restI'le find a Master; the gold for bringing up on't,I freely render to your charge.Lan.No more words,Nor no more children, (good son) as you love me,This may do well.John.I shall observe your Morals.But where'sDon Frederick, Mother?Lan.Ten to oneAbout the like adventure: he told me,He was to find you out.[Exit.John.Why should he stay thus?There may be some ill chance in't: sleep I will not,Before I have found him: now this woman's pleas'd,I'le seek my friend out, and my care is eas'd.[Exit.
Joh.There is no talking to her till I have drencht her.Give me: here mother take a good round draught,'Twill purge spleen from your spirits: deeper mother.
Lan.I, I, son, you imagine this will mend all.
John.All i' faith Mother.
Lan.I confess the WineWill do his part.
John.I'le pledge ye.
Lan.But sonJohn.
Joh.I know your meaning mother; touch it once more,Alas you look not well; take a round draught,It warms the bloud well, and restores the colour,And then we'll talk at large.
Lan.A civil Gentleman?A stranger? one the Town holds a good regard of?
John.Nay I will silence thee.
Lan.One that should weigh his fair name? oh, a stitch!
Joh.There's nothing better for a stitch, good Mother,Make no spare of it, as you love your health,Mince not the matter.
Land.As I said, a Gentleman,Lodge in my house? now heav'ns my comfort, Signior!
John.I look'd for this.
Lan.I did not think you would have us'd me thus;A woman of my credit: one, heaven knows,That lov'd you but too tenderly.
John.Dear Mother,I ever found your kindness, and [ac]knowledge it.
Lan.No, no, I am a fool to counsel ye. Where's the infant?Come, let's see your Workmanship.
John.None of mine, Mother,But there 'tis, and a lusty one.
Land.Heaven bless thee,Thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is,'Tis many a good mans fortune: as I liveYour own eyes Signior, and the nether lipAs like ye, as ye had spit it.
John.I am glad on't.
Lan.Bless me, what things are these?
John.I thought my labourWas not all lost, 'tis gold, and these are jewels,Both rich, and right I hope.
Lan.Well, well sonJohn,I see ye are a wood-man, and can chuseYour dear, though it be i'th' dark, all your discretionIs not yet lost; this was well clapt aboard:Here I am with you now; when as they sayYour pleasure comes with profit; when ye must needs do,Do where ye may be done to, 'tis a wisedomBecomes a young man well: be sure of one thing,Lose not your labour and your time together,It seasons of a fool, son, time is pretious,Work wary whilst ye have it: since ye must traffickSometimes this slippery way, take sure hold Signior,Trade with no broken Merchants, make your lading,As you would make your rest, adventurously,But with advantage ever.
John.All this time Mother,The child wants looking to, wants meat and Nurses.
Lan.Now blessing o' thy care; it shall have all,And instantly; I'le seek a Nurse my self, son;'Tis a sweet child: ah my youngSpaniard,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 restI'le find a Master; the gold for bringing up on't,I freely render to your charge.
Lan.No more words,Nor no more children, (good son) as you love me,This may do well.
John.I shall observe your Morals.But where'sDon Frederick, Mother?
Lan.Ten to oneAbout the like adventure: he told me,He was to find you out.[Exit.
John.Why should he stay thus?There may be some ill chance in't: sleep I will not,Before I have found him: now this woman's pleas'd,I'le seek my friend out, and my care is eas'd.[Exit.
EnterDuke,and Gentlemen.
1 Gent.Believe Sir, 'tis as possible to do it,As to remove the City; the main factionSwarm th[r]ough the streets like hornets, arm'd with angersAble to ruine States: no safety left us,Nor means to dye like men, if instantlyYou draw not back again.Duke.May he be drawnAnd quarter'd too, that turns now; were I surerOf death than thou art of thy fears, and with deathMore than those fears are too.1 Gent.Sir, I fear not.Du.I would not crack my vow, start from my honour,Because I may find danger; wound my soul,To keep my body safe.1 Gent.I speak not Sir,Out of a baseness to you.Du.No, nor do notOut of a baseness leave me: what is danger,More than the weakness of our apprehensions?A poor cold part o'th' bloud? who takes it hold of?Cowards, and wicked livers: valiant mindsWere made the Masters of it: and as hearty Sea-menIn desperate storms, stem with a little RudderThe tumbling ruines of the Ocean:So with their cause and swords do they do dangers.Say we were sure to dye all in this venture,As I am confident against it: is there anyAmongst us of so fat a sense, so pamper'd,Would chuse luxuriously to lye a bed,And purge away his spirit, send his soul outIn Sugar-sops, and Syrups? Give me dyingAs dying ought to be, upon mine enemy,Parting with man-kind, by a man that's manly:Let 'em be all the world, and bring alongCain's envy with 'em, I will on.2 Gent.You may Sir,But with what safety?1 Gent.Since 'tis come to dying,You shall perceive Sir, here be those amongst usCan dye as decently as other men,And with as little ceremony: on brave Sir.Duke.That's spoken heartily.1 Gent.And he that flinches,May he dye lowzie in a ditch.Duke.No more dying,There's no such danger in it:What's a clock?3 Gent.Somewhat above your hour.Duke.Away then quickly,Make no noise, and no tr[o]uble will attend us.[Exeunt.
1 Gent.Believe Sir, 'tis as possible to do it,As to remove the City; the main factionSwarm th[r]ough the streets like hornets, arm'd with angersAble to ruine States: no safety left us,Nor means to dye like men, if instantlyYou draw not back again.
Duke.May he be drawnAnd quarter'd too, that turns now; were I surerOf death than thou art of thy fears, and with deathMore than those fears are too.
1 Gent.Sir, I fear not.
Du.I would not crack my vow, start from my honour,Because I may find danger; wound my soul,To keep my body safe.
1 Gent.I speak not Sir,Out of a baseness to you.
Du.No, nor do notOut of a baseness leave me: what is danger,More than the weakness of our apprehensions?A poor cold part o'th' bloud? who takes it hold of?Cowards, and wicked livers: valiant mindsWere made the Masters of it: and as hearty Sea-menIn desperate storms, stem with a little RudderThe tumbling ruines of the Ocean:So with their cause and swords do they do dangers.Say we were sure to dye all in this venture,As I am confident against it: is there anyAmongst us of so fat a sense, so pamper'd,Would chuse luxuriously to lye a bed,And purge away his spirit, send his soul outIn Sugar-sops, and Syrups? Give me dyingAs dying ought to be, upon mine enemy,Parting with man-kind, by a man that's manly:Let 'em be all the world, and bring alongCain's envy with 'em, I will on.
2 Gent.You may Sir,But with what safety?
1 Gent.Since 'tis come to dying,You shall perceive Sir, here be those amongst usCan dye as decently as other men,And with as little ceremony: on brave Sir.
Duke.That's spoken heartily.
1 Gent.And he that flinches,May he dye lowzie in a ditch.
Duke.No more dying,There's no such danger in it:What's a clock?
3 Gent.Somewhat above your hour.
Duke.Away then quickly,Make no noise, and no tr[o]uble will attend us.[Exeunt.
EnterFrederick,andPeter, (with a candle.)
Fred.Give me the candle: so, go you out that way.Peter.What have we now to do?Fred.And o' your life Sirrah,Let none come near the door without my knowledge,No not my Landlady, nor my friend.Peter.'Tis done Sir.Fred.Nor any serious business that concerns me.Peter.Is the wind there again?Fred.Be gone.Peter.I am Sir.[Exit.
Fred.Give me the candle: so, go you out that way.
Peter.What have we now to do?
Fred.And o' your life Sirrah,Let none come near the door without my knowledge,No not my Landlady, nor my friend.
Peter.'Tis done Sir.
Fred.Nor any serious business that concerns me.
Peter.Is the wind there again?
Fred.Be gone.
Peter.I am Sir.[Exit.
EnterConstantia.
Fre.Now enter without fear.—And noble LadyThat safety and civility ye wish'd forShall truly here attend you: no rude tongueNor rough behaviour knows this place, no wishesBeyond the moderation of a man,Dare enter here; your own desires and Innocence,Joyn'd to my vow'd obedience, shall protect you,Were dangers more than doubts.Const.Ye are truly noble,And worth a womans trust: let it become me,(I do beseech you, Sir) for all your kindness,To render with my thanks, this worthless trifle;I may be longer troublesome.Fred.Fair officesAre still their own rewards: Heav'n bless me LadyFrom selling civil courtesies: may it please ye,If ye will force a favour to oblige me,Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfie meFor what good Angel I am engag'd.Const.It shall be,For I am truly confident ye are honest:The Piece is scarce worth looking on.Fred.Trust meThe 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 mens contemplations! what a ParadiseRuns through each part she has! good bloud be temperate:I must look off: too excellent an objectConfounds the sense that sees it. Noble Lady,If there be any further service to cast on me,Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye,Or the engagement of whole Families.Const.Your service is too liberal, worthy Sir,Thus far I shall entreat.Fred.Command me Lady,You make your power too poor.Const.That presentlyWith all convenient haste, you would retireUnto the street you found me in.Fred.'Tis done.Const.There, if you find a Gentleman opprestWith force and violence, do a mans office,And draw your sword to rescue him.Fred.He's safe,Be what he will, and let his foes be Devils,Arm'd with your pity, I shall conjure 'em.Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessaryAre there before ye.Const.All my prayers go with ye.[Exit.Fred.Ye clap on proof upon me: men say goldDoes all, engages all, works through all dangers:Now I say beauty can do more: The Kings Exchequer,Nor all his wealthyIndies, could not draw meThrough half those miseries this piece of pleasureMight make me leap into: we are all like sea-Cards,All our endeavours and our motions,(As they do to the North) still point at beauty,Still at the fairest: for a handsom woman,(Setting my soul aside) it should go hard,But I would strain my body: yet to her,Unless it be her own free gratitude,Hopes ye shall dye, and thou tongue rot within me,E're I infringe my faith: now to my rescue.[Exit.
Fre.Now enter without fear.—And noble LadyThat safety and civility ye wish'd forShall truly here attend you: no rude tongueNor rough behaviour knows this place, no wishesBeyond the moderation of a man,Dare enter here; your own desires and Innocence,Joyn'd to my vow'd obedience, shall protect you,Were dangers more than doubts.
Const.Ye are truly noble,And worth a womans trust: let it become me,(I do beseech you, Sir) for all your kindness,To render with my thanks, this worthless trifle;I may be longer troublesome.
Fred.Fair officesAre still their own rewards: Heav'n bless me LadyFrom selling civil courtesies: may it please ye,If ye will force a favour to oblige me,Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfie meFor what good Angel I am engag'd.
Const.It shall be,For I am truly confident ye are honest:The Piece is scarce worth looking on.
Fred.Trust meThe 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 mens contemplations! what a ParadiseRuns through each part she has! good bloud be temperate:I must look off: too excellent an objectConfounds the sense that sees it. Noble Lady,If there be any further service to cast on me,Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye,Or the engagement of whole Families.
Const.Your service is too liberal, worthy Sir,Thus far I shall entreat.
Fred.Command me Lady,You make your power too poor.
Const.That presentlyWith all convenient haste, you would retireUnto the street you found me in.
Fred.'Tis done.
Const.There, if you find a Gentleman opprestWith force and violence, do a mans office,And draw your sword to rescue him.
Fred.He's safe,Be what he will, and let his foes be Devils,Arm'd with your pity, I shall conjure 'em.Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessaryAre there before ye.
Const.All my prayers go with ye.[Exit.
Fred.Ye clap on proof upon me: men say goldDoes all, engages all, works through all dangers:Now I say beauty can do more: The Kings Exchequer,Nor all his wealthyIndies, could not draw meThrough half those miseries this piece of pleasureMight make me leap into: we are all like sea-Cards,All our endeavours and our motions,(As they do to the North) still point at beauty,Still at the fairest: for a handsom woman,(Setting my soul aside) it should go hard,But I would strain my body: yet to her,Unless it be her own free gratitude,Hopes ye shall dye, and thou tongue rot within me,E're I infringe my faith: now to my rescue.[Exit.