John. The civil order of this city Naples Makes it belov❜d and honour'd of all travellers, As a most safe retirement in all troubles; Beside the wholesome seat and noble temper Of those minds that inhabit it, safely wise, And to all strangers courteous. But I see My admiration has drawn night upon me, And longer to expect my friend may pull me Into suspicion of too late a stirrer, Which all good governments are jealous of. I'll venture to look in. If there be knaves, Within. Signior! John. What! How is this? Within. Signior Fabritio! John. I'll go nearer. Within. Fabritio? John. This is a woman's tongue; here may be good done. Within. Who's there? Fabritio? Within. Where are you? John. Was ever man so paid for being curious? Into men's houses where I had no business, A piece of evening arras-work, a child, ches, Their snares and subtleties? Have I read over All their school learning, dived into their quiddits, And am I now bumfiddled with a bastard! Fetch'd over with a card o' five, and in my old days, After the dire massacre of a million Of maidenheads, caught the common way, i' th' night too Under another's name, to make the matter A bevy of those butter-prints together, me, If I had got this gingerbread: never stir'd me, sure I shall reveal unto you. Fred. Come, be hearty; And scouring work, in nurses, bells, and babies, | That force me to this wild course, at more lei. And ten to one would kill it; a worse sin The good old gentlewoman at whose house we live; For she will fall upon me with a catechism For I will know this mother. Come, good wonder, Let you and I be jogging; your starved treble Will waken the rude watch else. All that be Curious night-walkers, may they find my fee! Enter Don FREDERICK. Fred. Sure he's gone home: I have beaten all the purlieus, [Exit. 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, Where he lies moor'd to mend his leaks. Enter 1st CONSTANTIA. me, Are ye a gentleman ? Con. Of this place? Fred. No, born in Spain. Con. As ever you lov'd honour, As ever your desires may gain their end, Fred. Y' have charm'd me, Con. The time's too dangerous To 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 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 fear and dangers He must strike through my life that takes you from me. [Exeunt. Enter PETRUCHIO, ANTONIO, and two Gentle men. Petr. He will sure come: are ye all 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 play; We shall fight close and home then. 1 Gent. Antonio, You are thought too bloody. Ant. Why? All physicians, And penny almanacks, allow the opening Petr. Speak softly, gentle cousin. 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 St Jaques, They shall not find me one! Here's old tough Andrew, A special friend of mine, and he but hold, And the best blood I light on: I profess it, Petr. Let's talk no longer. Place yourselves with silence As I directed ye; and when time calls us, [Exeunt. You're deceiv'd in me, sir, I am none John. Have I not sworn unto you, Land. Oaths! what care you for oaths to gain When ye are high and pamper'd? What saint Or what religion, but your purpos'd lewdness, John. Heaven forbid, mother. John. Bring down the bottle of Canary wine. I must e'en make her drunk. [Aside.] Nay, gentle mother Lodged in my house! Now Heaven's my comfort, signior! John. I look'd for this. Land. I did not think you would have us'd me A woman of my credit, one, Heaven knows, I ever found your kindness, and acknowledge it. Come, let's see your workmanship. Land. Heaven bless thee, Thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is, Land. Now fy upon ye! was it for this purpose, You fetch'd your evening walks for your devo-I tions? For this, pretended holiness? No weather, And with a learned zeal have watch'd well too; It seems was pleas'd as well. Still sicker, sicker! Enter PETER 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. It will purge spleen from your spirits; deeper, mother. Land. Aye, aye, son; you imagine this will mend all. John. All, i'faith, mother. Will do his part. John. I'll pledge ye. Land. But, son John John. I know your meaning, mother, touch it once more. Alas! you look not well, take a round draught, Land. A civil gentleman! A stranger! one the town holds a good regard of! Land. One that should weigh his fair name!— John. There's nothing better for a stitch, good Make no spare of it as you love your health; Land. As I said, a gentleman John. I am glad on't. Land. Bless me! what things are these? Was not all lost: 'tis gold, and these are jewels, Land. Well, well, son John, see ye're a woodman, and can choose Is not yet lost; this was well clapp'd aboard; Do where you may be done to; 'tis a wisdom Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, Trade with no broken merchants; make your As you would make your rest, adventurously, John. All this time, mother, The child wants looking to, wants meat and nurses. John. Yes, of these jewels I must, by your good leave, mother; these are yours, To make your care the stronger; for the rest, Land. No more words, Nor no more children, good son, as you love me; John. I shall observe About the like adventure; he told me, you out. John. Why should he stay us? There may be some ill chance in't: sleep I will not, Before I have found him. Now this woman's pleas'd, I'll seek my friend out, and my care is eas'd. [Exeunt. Enter Duke and three Gentlemen. 1 Gent. Believe, sir, 'tis as possible to do it, As to move the city: the main faction Swarm through the streets like hornets, and with augurs Able to ruin states, no safety left us, Duke. May he be drawn, And quarter'd too, that turns now; were I surer Of death than thou art of thy fears, and with death More than those fears are too 1 Gent. Sir, I fear not. Duke. I would not break my vow, start from Because I may find danger; wound my soul 1 Gent. I speak not, sir, Out of a baseness to ye. Duke. No, nor do not Out of a baseness leave me. What is danger Cowards and wicked livers: valiant minds So with their cause and swords do they do dangers. 2 Gent. You may, sir, But with what safety? 1 Gent. Since 'tis come to dying, For I am truly confident ye are honest. The 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 men's contemplation! What a Paradise Runs through each part she has! Good blood, be temperate ! I must look off: too excellent an object You shall perceive, sir, that here be those Confounds the sense that sees it. Noble lady, amongst us, Can die as decently as other men, And with as little ceremony. On, brave sir. 1 Gent. And he that flinches, May he die lousy in a ditch. There's no such danger in't. What's o'clock? Make no noise, and no trouble will attend us. If there be any further service to cast on me, Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye, Or the engagements of whole families. Con. Your service is too liberal, worthy sir. Thus far I shall entreat Fred. Command me, lady: You may make your power too poor. With all convenient haste, you will retire Fred. 'Tis done. [Exeunt. Con. There if you find a gentleman oppress'd With force and violence, do a man's 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 beauty, I shall conjure them. Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessary Are there before ye. Con. All my prayers go with ye. [Erit. Fred. Ye clap on proof upon me. Men say, gold Does all, engages all, works through all dangers: Now I say, beauty can do more. The king's exchequer, SCENE I. Nor all his wealthy Indies, could not draw me Through half those miseries this piece of pleasure Might make me leap into: we are all like seacharts, All our endeavours and our motions (As they do to the north) still point at beauty, Still at the fairest; for a handsome woman, (Setting my soul aside) it should go hard But I will strain my body; yet to her, Unless it be her own free gratitude, Hopes, ye shall die, and thou, tongue, rot within me, Ere I infringe my faith. Now to my rescue. [Exit. ACT II. Enter Don JOHN. John. Sure 'tis fighting! My friend may be engaged. Fie, gentlemen, [Duke falls; Don JOHN bestrides him. Ant. I'll stop your mouth, sir. John. Nay, then have at thee freely. There's a plumb, sir, to satisfy your longing. Petr. Away; I hope I have sped him: here comes rescue! We shall be endanger'd.-Where's Antonio? Ant. A mischief confound your fingers! John. For the bond, sir, 'Tis every good man's tie: to know me further, That came abroad to travel. John. You are pleas'd, sir, To express your courtesy: may I demand Duke. For this present I must desire your pardon: you shall know me John. Your will's your own, sir. Duke. What is't you look for, sir? Have you lost any thing? John. Only my hat i' th' scuffle ;-sure these fellows Were night-snaps. Duke. No, believe me, sir: Pray use mine, For 'twill be hard to find your own now. John. No, sir. Duke. Indeed you shall, I can command ano ther: I do beseech you, honour me. |