690 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! 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. 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 purpose Don 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 fail with it. Duke. Thus, then-for we may be all abused. 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, if 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. [Ereunt DUKE and Prin Don F. Very well, Don John! 1 I Don J. Very ill, Don Frederick! Don F. I am glad you are so merry, sir. ACT IV. SCENE I-A Tavern. Enter Second CONSTANTIA and her Mother. Mother. Hold, Cons, hold, for goodness, hold! I am in that rtion of spirit, for want of breath, that I am almost reduced to the necessity of not ing able to defend myself against the inconvenience of a fall. then you run away with me and all his gold; and now, like a strict practitioner of honour, resolve tɩ be taken, rather than depatriate, as you call it. Mother. As I am a Christian, Cons, a tavern, and a very decent sign; I'll in, I am resolved, though by it I should run a risk of never so stupendous a nature ! 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 make an honest woman of me, I would make him the best wife in the world: but what a fool am I to talk thus? Young men think of young women nowbe-a-days, as they do of their clothes: it is genteel to 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! 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 I 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, 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, [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. Don 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 so fast? 2 Con. I don't know, sir. 2 Cen. No, sir; no private dealing. I beseeca Don J. 'Sheart, what shall I do? I'm on wits. Harkye, my dear soul, canst thou love m. 2 Con. If I could, what then? Don J. Why, then I should be the happiest alive! [Kunng 2 Con. Nay, good sir, hold-remember the ditions. Don J. Conditions! what conditions? I Dơn 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. Then you'll promise? Don J. What, what? I'll promise anything, everything, thou dear, sweet, bewitching, heavenly Would I might be so man! 2 Con. I tell you, I don't know. Don J. She's very quick. happy as to know you, lady! 2 Com. I dare not let you see my face, sir. Don J. Why? 2 Con. For fear you should not like it, and then leave me; for, to tell you true, I have, at this present, 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 Co. 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 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 poer innoce lamb, just escaped from the jaws of an oid fx Don J. Art thou, my pretty lamb then I'll be thy shepherd, and fold thee in these armas. [Kuses her hand 2 Con. Ay, but you must not eat the lamb yur self. Don J. I like you so well, I will do anything thee, my dear delightful incognita: I love y much, it is impossible to say how much I love the My heart, my mind, and my soul, are transport to such a degree, that-that-that-d-n it, I can. talk; so let us run home, or the old fox, my lami 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. Pernaps, 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 honour. 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 de Don J. Oh! how do you do, Frederick? D-a him, now will he ask me forty foolish quest. ta, and I have such a mind to talk to this wench, tzat 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 gone up to read a book. Don F. A book! that's a quaint one, i'fuci' pr'ythee, Don John, what library hast thou been buying this afternoon? for in the morning, is my knowledge, thou hadst never a book there, es it were an almanack, and that was pone of thy cwa 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: 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? Den F. Ask him, sir, and he'll tell ye. Don J. And how do they call her, pr'ythee? 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. 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. resolved to wait upon this lady to them. 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? 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 design? Sir, you must not go in there. [PETRICHIO is going to the door. Petr. How, sir! not go in? Dom 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 F. Oh, monstrous impudence! Upon my life, sir, I saw him force her up into that house, lock her and the key is now in his pocket. up, 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. too, sir. Don J. Harkye, gentlemen, I'll make ye a fair proposition; leave off this ceremony among your selves, and those dismal threats against me: filip up, cross or pile, who shall begin first, and I'll do the best I can to entertain you all, one after another. Enter ANTONIO. Anto. Now do my fingers itch to be about somebody's ears, for the loss of my gold. Ha! what's here to do? swords drawn! I must make one, though it cost me the singing of ten John Dories more. Courage, brave boy! I'll stand by you as long as this tool here lasts: and it was once a good one. Petr. Who's this? Antonio! Oh, sir! you are welcome! you shall be even judge between us. Anto. No, no, no; not I, sir, I thank you: I'll make work for others to judge of, I'm resolved to fight. Petr. But we won't fight with you. Anto. Then put up your swords, or by this hand I'll lay about me! [They put up their swords. Don J. Well said, old Bilboa, i'faith! Petr. Pray hear us, though: this gentleman saw him lock up my sister into this house, and he refuses to let us see her. Anto. How, friend, is this true? [Going to him. Don J. Not so hasty, I beseech you. Lookye, gentlemen, to show you that all are mistaken, and that my formal friend there is an ass Don F. I thank you, sir. Don J. I'll give you my consent, that this gentleman here shall see her, if his information can satisfy you. Duke. Yes, yes; he knows her very well. Don J. Then, sir, go in here, if you please: I dare trust him with her, for he is too old to do any mischief. LANTONIO goes in. Don F. I wonder how my gentleman will get off from all this? Don J. I shall be even with you, Don Frederick, another time, for all your grinning. [Noise within.] How now! what noise is that? I'll beat something into thee. [Beats him.] Ran afte her, you dog, and bring her back, or [PETER TURI O Don F. What, you won't kill him? Don J. Nay, come not near me, for if thos dest by heavens, I'll give thee as much! and so however, but that I won't lose time from long after my dear, sweet-a plague confound you a. [Goes in, and shuts the door after Duke. What, he has shut the door! Don F. It's no matter: I'll lead you a pris back way, by that corner, where we shau met Enter First CONSTANTIA. the constable has seized the landlady, and 1 afraid, the poor child too. How to return to De Frederick's house, I know not: and, if I knew. I durst not, after those things the landlady has told have often met with lighter punishments. me of him. I am faulty, I confess, but greater fas 1 Con. Oh! whither shall I run to hide myself? Enter Don JOHN. Don J. I am almost dead with running, and be so quite, but I will overtake her. 1 Con. Hold, Don John, hold! Don J. What's that? ha! is it you, my dear? 1 Con. For heaven's sake, sir, carry me from hence, or I'm utterly undone. I almost beat ber, for but making me the proposiDon J. Phoo, plague, this is the other! now could tion. Madam, there are some a-coming, that wil do it a great deal better: but I am in such haste, that, I vow to gad, madam— in this as well as I; for your woman is taken. 1 Con. Nay, pray, sir, stay; you are concerned Don J. Ha! my woman! Goes back to her.] I vow to gad, madam, I do so highly honour your ladyship, that I would venture my life, a thousand times, to do you service. But, pray, where is she? 1 Con. Why, sir, she is taken by the constable. Don J. Constable! Which way went he? 1 Con. I cannot tell; for I ran out into the streets, just as he had seized upon your landlady. woman. Don J. Plague o' my landlady! I mean the other 1 Con. Other woman, sir! I have seen no other woman, never since I left your house! Don J. 'Sdeath! what have I been doing here, then, all this while! Madam, your most humble1 Con. Good sir, be not so cruel as to leave me in this distress. and will be back again presently. Don J. No, no, no; I'm only going a little way, 1 Con. But, pray, sir, hear me; I'm in that dan ger |
