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I shall meet with them if you have. Don F. Is this fair?

[ble?

Don J. Was it in you a friend's part to deal douI am no ass, Don Frederick.

Don F. And, Don John,

It shall appear I am no fool: disgrace me

To make yourself thus every woman's courtesy ? 'Tis boyish, 'tis base.

Don J. 'Tis false; I privy to this dog-trick! Clear yourself, for I know where the wind sits: Or, as I have a life[Trampling within.

Don F. No more, they are coming: show no discontent, let's quickly away. If she be at home, our jealousies are over; if not, you and I must have a farther parley, John.

Don J. Yes, Don Frederick, you may be sure we shall. But, where are these fellows? Plague on them, we have lost them too in our spleens, like fools.

Enter DUKE and PETRUCHIO,

Duke. Come, gentlemen, let's go a little faster: Suppose you have all mistresses, and mend Your pace accordingly. [another man. Don J. Sir, I should be as glad of a mistress as Don F. Yes, on my conscience wouldst thou, and of any other man's mistress too, that I'll answer for. Don. J. You'll answer!-Oh! You're a good one!

SCENE VI.-Antonio's House.

Enter ANTONIO and his Man.

Anto. With all my gold?

[Exeunt.

Man. The trunk broken open, and all gone!
Anto. And the mother in the plot?

Man. And the mother and all.

Anto. And the devil and all; and all his imps go with them. Belike they thought I was no more of this world, and those trifles would but disturb my conscience.

Man. Sure, they thought, sir, you would not live to disturb them.

Anto. Well, my sweet mistress, I'll try how handsomely your ladyship can caper in the air; there's your master-piece. No imaginations where they should be?

Man. None, sir; yet we have searched all places we suspected; I believe they have taken towards the port.

Anto. Give me then a water-conjurer, one that can raise water-devils! I'll part them-play at duck and drake with my money! Get me a conjurer, I say; inquire out a man that lets out devils.

Man. I don't know where.

Anto. In every street, Tom Fool; any blear-eyed people with red heads and flat noses can perform it. Thou shalt know them by their half gowns and no breeches. Find me out a conjurer, I say, and learn his price, how he will let his devils out by the day. I'll have them again, if they be above ground.

[Exeunt. SCENE VIL-Street before Don Frederick's

Lodging.

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Don F. This fellow can satisfy I lie not

Petr. A little after my master was departed, sir, with this gentleman, my fellow and myself being sent on business, as we must think, on purposeDon J. Yes, yes, on purpose.

Petr. Hang these circumstances, they always serve to usher in ill ends.

Don J. Gone! now could I eat that rogue, I am so angry. Gone?

Petr. Gone?

Don F. Directly gone, fled, shifted; what would you have me say?

Duke. Well, gentlemen, wrong not my good opi

nion.

Don F. For your dukedom, sir, I would not be a

knave.

Don J. He that is, a rot run in his blood. Petr. But harkye, gentlemen, are ye sure you had her here? Did you not dream this?

Don J. Have you your nose, sir?

Petr. Yes, sir.

Don J. Then we had her.

Petr. Since you are so short, believe your having her shall suffer more construction. Don J. Well, sir, let it suffer.

[Turns off peevishly. Don F. How to convince you, sir, I can't ima gine; but my life shall justify my innocence, or fall with it.

Duke. Thus, then-for we may be all abused,
Petr. "Tis possible.

Duke. Here let's part until to-morrow this time: we to our way to clear this doubt, and you to your's Pawning our honours then to meet again; when, i she be not found

Don F. We stand engaged to answer any worthy way we are called to.

Duke. We ask no more.
Petr. To-morrow, certain.

Don J. If we out-live this night, sir.

[Ereunt DUKE and PETR.CH10 Don F. Very well, Don John!

Don J. Very ill, Don Frederick!

Don F. We have somewhat now to do
Don J. With all my heart, I love to be doing.
Don F. If she be not found we raust fight.
Don J. I am glad on't I have not fought a great
aile

Don F. I am glad you are so merry, sir.
Don J. I am sorry you are so dull, sir.
Don F. Here let us part; and if the lady be
ot forthcoming,

is this, Don John, shall damp your levity!
[Clapping his hand upon his sword.
Don J. Or this shall tickle up your modesty!
[Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A Tavern.

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2 Con. There's no stopping her. What shall I do? Aside.

Mother. I'll send for my kinswoman and some music, to revive me a little for really, Cons, I am reduced to that sad imbecility, by the injury I have done my poor feet, that I am in a great incertitude, whether they will have liveliness sufficient to support me up to the top of the stairs or no.

[Exit Mother 2 Con. I have a great mind to leave this fantastical mother-in-law of mine, with her stolen goods, take to my heels and seek my fortune; but to whom shall I apply? Generosity and humanity are not to be met with at every corner of the street. If any young fellow would but take a liking to me, and Enter Second CONSTANTIA and her Mother. make an honest woman of me, I would make him Mother. Hold, Cons, hold, for goodness, hold! the best wife in the world: but what a fool am I to I am in that ortion of spirit, for want of breath, talk thus? Young men think of young women nowhat I am almost reduced to the necessity of not be-a-days, as they do of their clothes: it is genteel to ing able to defend myself against the inconvenience of a fall.

2 Con. Dear mother, let us go a little faster, to secure ourselves from Antonio: for my part, I am in that terrible fright, that I can neither think, speak, nor stand still, till we are safe a ship-board, and out of sight of the shore.

Mother. Out of sight of the shore! why, do you think I'll depatriate?

2 Con. Depatriate? what's that? Mother. Why, you fool, you, leave my country; what, will you never learn to speak out of the vulgar road?

2 Con. Oh lord! this hard word will undo us. Mother. As I am a Christian, if it were to save my honour (which is ten thousand times dearer to me than life) I would not be guilty of so odious a thought.

2 Con. Pray, mother, since your honour is so dear to you, consider that if we are taken, both it and we should depatriate! There's it; mother, the world does not care a pin, if both you and I were hanged; and that we shall be certainly, if Antonio takes us, for you have run away with his gold.

Mother. Did he not tell you that he kept it in his trunk for us? and had not Í a right to take it whenever I pleased? you have lost your reasoning faculty, Cons!

2 Con. Yes, mother, but you was to have it upon a certain condition, which condition I would sooner starve than agree to. I can't help my poverty, but I can keep my honour, and the richest old fellow in the kingdom sha'n't buy it. I'll sooner give it away than sell it; that's my spirit, mother.

Mother. But what will become of me, Cons? I have so indelible an idea of my dignity, that I must have the means to support it; these I have got, and I will ne'er depart from the demarches of a person of quality; and let come what will, I shall rather choose to submit myself to my fate, than strive to prevent it, by any deportment that is not congruous in every degree to the steps and measures of a strict practitioner of honour.

2 Con. Would not this make one stark mad? your style is no more out of the way, than your manner of reasoning; you first sell me to an ugly old fellow,

have them, to be vain of them, to show them to everybody, and to change them often; when their novelty and fashion is over, they are turned out of doors, to be purchased and worn by the first buyer. A wife, indeed, is not so easily got rid of: it is a suit of mourning, that lies neglected at the bottom of the chest, and only shows itself now and then, upon melancholy occasions. What a terrible prospect! However, I do here swear and vow to live for ever chaste, till I find a young fellow who will take me for better and for worse. La, what a desperate oath have I taken!

Mother. [Looking out of the window.] Come up, Cons, the fiddles are here.

2 Con. I come-[Mother goes from the window.] I must begone, though whither I cannot tell; these fiddles, and her discreet companions, will quickly make an end of all she has stolen; and then for five hundred new pieces will she sell me to another old fellow, whom I will serve in the same manner. She has taken care not to leave me a farthing; yet I am so, better than under her conduct, 'twill be at worst but begging for my life:

And starving were to me an easier fate, Than to be forc'd to live with one I hate. Mother. Come, Cons, make haste.

[Goes up to her Mother. Enter Don JoHN.

Don J. It will not out of my head, but that Don Frederick has sent away this wench, for all he carries it so quietly; yet methinks he should be honester than so; but these grave men are never touched upon such occasions. [Music above.] What's here, music and women? the best mixture in the world!-'would I were among them. [Music again, and a woman appears in the balcony.] That's a right one, I know it by her smile. I have an eye that never fails me. [Another lady appears.] Ah, rogue! she's right, too; I'm sure on't; here's a brave parcel of them! [Music still, and dancing. Mother. Come, come, let's dance in t'other room; 'tis a great deal better.

Doa J Say you so? what, now, if I should go up and dance too? It is a tavern-rot this business! why should a man be hunting upon a cold scent,

when there is so much better sport near at hand? I'll in. I am resolved, and try my own fortune; 'tis hard luck if I don't get one of them.

[As he goes to the door, Enter Second CONSTANTIA. See, here's one bolted already! Fair lady, whither

st fast?

2 Con. I don't know, sir.

2 Cen. No, sir; no private dealing. I beseech Don J. 'Sheart, what shall I do? I'm on an wits. Harkye, my dear soul, canst thou love me 2 Con. If I could, what then?

Don J. Why, then I should be the happiest t alive! [Kisning

2 Con. Nay, good sir, hold-remember the us ditions.

Don J. Conditions! what conditions? I mo

Don J. May I have the honour to wait upon you? not wrong thee for the universe!

2 Con. Yes, if you please, sir.

Don J. Whither?

2 Con. I tell you, I don't know.

2 Con. Then you'll promise?

Don J. What, what? I'll promise anything, every thing, thou dear, sweet, bewitching, heavenly wo

Don J. She's very quick. Would I might be so man! happy as to know you, lady!

2 Com. I dare not let you see my face, sir.

Don J. Why?

2 Con. To make me an honest woman? Don J. How the devil, my angel, can I do that if you are undone to my hands?

2 Con. Ay, but I am not; I am a poor innocem

2 Con. For fear you should not like it, and then leave me; for, to tell you true, I have, at this pre-lamb, just escaped from the jaws of an cid f x. sent, very great need of you.

Don J. Hast thou? Then I declare myself thy champion: and let me tell thee, there is not a better knight-errant in all Christendom than I am to succour distressed damsels.

2 Con. What a proper, handsome, spirited fellow! this is! If he'd love me now as he ought, I would never seek out farther. Sir, I am young, and unexperienced in the world.

Don J. If thou art young, 'tis no great matter what thy face is.

2 Con. Perhaps this freedom in me may seem strange; but, sir, in short, I'm forced to fly from one I hate; will you protect me?

Don J. Yes, that I will, before I see your face; your shape has charmed me enough for that already. 2 Con. But if we should meet him, will you here promise me, he shall not take me from you?

Don J. If any one takes you from me, he shall take my life too; if I love one, I won't keep t'other; they shall go together.

2 Con. For heaven's sake, then, conduct me to some place where I may be secured a while from the sight of any one whatsoever.

Don J. By all the hopes I have to find thy face as lovely as thy shape, I will.

2 Con. Well, sir, I believe you; for you have an

honest look.

Don J. An honest look! Zounds! I am afraid Don Frederick has been giving her a character of me too. Come, pray, unveil.

2 Con. Then turn away your face, for I'm resolved you shall not see a bit of mine, till I have set it in order, and then

Don J. What then?

2 Con. I'll strike you dead.

Don J. A mettled wench, I warrant her! If she be young now, and have but a nose on her face, she'll be as good as her word. Come, my dear, I'm even panting with impatience. Are you ready? [As he turns slowly round, she gets on the other side.] 'Sdeath! where is she?

2 Con. Here! stand your ground, if you dare! Don J. By this light, a rare creature! ten thou sand times handsomer than her we seek for! this can be sure no common one: 'pray heaven she be a kind one! [Aside.

2 Con. Well, sir, what say you now? Don J. Nothing: I'm so amazed, I'm not able to speak. Pr'ythee, my sweet creature, don't let us be talking in the street, but run home with me, that I may have a little private innocent conversation with you.

Don J. Art thou, my pretty lamb? them I'll be thy shepherd, and fold thee in these arms.

(Kuses her hand 2 Con. Ay, but you must not eat the lamb your

self.

Don J. I like you so well, I will do anythmgir thee, my dear delightful incognita: I love your much, it is impossible to say how much I love thee! My heart, my mind, and my soul, are transpertet to such a degree, that-that-that-d-n it, I can. talk; so let us run home, or the old fox, my lamt will overtake us. [They run ou

SCENE II-The Street.

Enter Don FREDERICK and FRANCISCO. Don F. And art thou sure it was Constanta, sayest thou, that he was leading?

Fran. Am I sure I live, sir? Why, I dwelt in the house with her; how can I choose but know her ?

Don F. But didst thou see her face?

Fran. Lord, sir, I saw her face as plain as I see yours just now, not two streets off.

Don F. Yes, 'tis even so; I suspected it at first, but then he forswore it with that confidence-Well Don John, if these be your practices, you shall have no more a friend of me, sir, I assure you. Pernas, though, he met her by chance, and intends to carry her to her brother, and the duke.

Fran. A little time will show. Gadso, here he is!
Don F. I'll step behind the shop, and observe him.
Enter Don JOHN and Second CONSTANTIA.
Don J. Here, now go in, and let me see who will
get you out again without my leave.

2 Con. Remember, you have given your honoST. Don J. And my love and when they go together, you may always trust them.

Don F. Dear Don John!

[Don J. puts Con, in, and locks the der Don J. Oh! how do you do, Frederick? D-a him, now will he ask me forty foolish questions, and I have such a mind to talk to this wench, trat I cannot think of one excuse for my life!

Don F. Your servant, sir: pray, who's that you locked in just now, at the door?

Don J. Why, a friend of mine, that's game up to read a book.

Don F. A book! that's a quaint one, i'fa pr'ythee, Don John, what library hast them bern buying this afternoon? for in the morning, my knowledge, thou hadst never a book there, except it were an almanack, and that was pone of thy cwz neither.

Don J No, no, it's a book of his own, he brought along with him: a scholar, that's given to reading. Don F. And do scholars, Don John, wear pettieoats now-a-days?

Don F. And so I will, sir, in this very particular, since there's no other remedy; I shall do that for the Duke and Petruchio, which I should expect from them upon the like occasion: in short, to let Don J. Plague on him, he has seen her! Well, you see I am as sensible of my honour, as you can Don Frederick, thou knowest I am not good at ly-be careless of yours, I must tell you, sir, that I'm ing; 'tis a woman, I confess it, make your best on't: resolved to wait upon this lady to them. what then?

Don F. Why then, Don John, I desire you'll be pleased to let me see her.

Don J. Why, 'faith, Frederick, I should not be against the thing, but you know that a man must keep his word, and she has a mind to be private.

Don F. But, John, you may remember, when I met a lady so before, this very self-same lady too, that I got leave for you to see her, John.

Don J. Why, do you think then, that this here is Constantia ?

Don F. I cannot properly say I think it, John, because I know it; this fellow, here, saw her, as you led her in the streets.

Don J. Well, and what then? Who does he say it is?

Don F. Ask him, sir, and he'll tell ye.

Don J. Harkye, friend, dost thou know this lady? Fran. I think I should, sir; I have lived long enough in the house to know her, sure.

Don J. And how do they call her, pr'ythee?
Fran. Constantia.

Don J. How! Constantia?

Fran. Yes, sir; the woman's name is Constantia, that's flat.

Don J. It is so, sir? and so is this too. [Strikes him. Fran. Oh, oh! [Runs out. Don J. Now, sirrah, you may safely say you have not borne false witness for nothing.

Don F. Fie, Don John, why do you beat the poor fellow for doing his duty, and telling truth?

Don J. Telling truth! thou talkest as if thou hadst been hired to bear false witness too: you are a very fine gentleman!

Don F. What a strange confidence he has! but is there no shame in thee? nor no consideration of what is just or honest, to keep a woman thus against her will, that thou knowest is in love with another man too? Dost think a judgment will not follow this?

Don J. Good, dear Frederick, do thou keep thy sentences and thy sentiments, which are now out of fashion, for some better opportunity; this here is not a fit subject for them: I tell thee, she is no more Constantia than thou art.

Don F. Why won't you let me see her then? Don J. Because I can't: besides, she's not for thy taste.

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Don F. Very well, sir; but is there no shame ? but is this worthy in you to delude

Don J. But is there no shame! but is this worthy! What a many buts are here! If I should tell thee now solemnly thou hast but one eye, and give thee reasons for it, wouldst thou believe me

Don F. I think hardly, sir, against my own knowledge.

Don J. Then why dost thou, with that grave face, go about to persuade me against mine? You should do as you would be done by, Frederick.

Don J. Are you so, sir? Why, I must then, sweet sir, tell you again, I am resolved you sha'n't. Never stare nor wonder! I have promised to pre serve her from the sight of any one whatsoever, and with the hazard of my life will make it good; but that you may not think I mean an injury to Petruchio, or the Duke, know, Don Frederick, that though I love a pretty girl perhaps a little better, I hate to do a thing that's base, as much as you do. Once more, upon my honour, this is not Constantia ; let that satisfy you.

Don F. All that will not do. [Goes to the door. Don J. No! why, then this shall. [Draws.] Come not one step nearer, for if thou dost, by heaven, I'm through you!

Don F. This is an insolence beyond the temper of a man to suffer. Thus, I throw off thy friendship; and since thy folly has provoked my patience beyond its natural bounds, know it is not in thy power now to save thyself.

Don J. That's to be tried, sir, though by your favour. Looks up at the balcony.] Mistress Whatd'ye-call-'em, pr'ythee look out now a little, and see how I'll fight for thee.

Don F. Come, sir, are you ready?
Don J. Oh lord, sir, your servant!

Enter DUKE and PETRUCHIO.

[Fight.

Petr. What's here? fighting! Let's part them. How! Don Frederick against Don John? How came you to fall out, gentlemen? What's the cause?

Don F. Why, sir, it is your quarrel, and not mine, that drew this on me: I saw him lock Constantia up into that house, and I desired to wait upon her to you; that's the cause.

Duke. Oh! it may be, he designed to lay the obligation upon us himself. Sir, we are beholden to you for this favour beyond all possibility of-[Approaching Don J. Don J. Pray, your grace, keep back, and don't throw away your thanks, before you know whether I have deserved them or no. Oh, is that your de sign? Sir, you must not go in there.

[PETRUCHIO is going to the door. Petr. How, sir! not go in?

Don J. No, sir; most certainly not go in. Petr. She's my sister, and I will speak to her. Don J. If she were your mother, sir, you should not, though it were but to ask her blessing. Petr. Since you are so positive, I'll try.

Don J. You shall find me a man of my word, sir. Duke. Nay, pray, gentlemen, hold; let me com. pose this matter. Why do you make a scruple of letting us see Constantia ?

Don J. Why, sir, 'twould turn a man's head round to hear these fellows talk so: there is not one word true of all that he has said.

Duke. Then you do not know where Constantia is? Don J. Not I, by heavens!

Don F. Oh, monstrous impudence! Upon my life, sir, I saw him force her up into that house, lock her up, and the key is now in his pocket.

Don J. Now that is two lies; for, first, he did not see her and next, all force is unnecessary, she is so very willing.

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