I'll tell thee, Frederick: but before I tell thee,
Settle thy understanding.
Fred. "Tis prepar'd, sir.

John. Why, then, mark what shall follow :
This night, Frederick, this bawdy night-
Fred, I thought no less.
John. This blind night,

What dost thou think I have got?
Fred. The pox, it may be.

John. Would 'twere no worse: ye talk of revelations ;

I have got a revelation will reveal me

An arrant coxcomb whilst I live.

Fred. What is't?

Thou hast lost nothing!

John. No, I have got, I tell thee.
Fred. What hast thou got?

John. One of the infantry, a child.
Fred. How!

John. A chopping child, man!

Fred. Give you joy, sir.

John. A lump of lewdness, Frederick; that's the truth on't.

This town's abominable.

Fred. I still told ye, John,

Your whoring must come home; I counsell❜d ye: But where no grace is

John. 'Tis none of mine, man.

Fred. Answer the parish so.
John. Cheated in troth

(Peeping into a house) by whom I know not, Nor where to find the place again; no, Frederick,

'Tis no poor one,

That's my best comfort, for't has brought about it Enough to make it man.

Fred. Where is't!

John. At home.

Fred. A saving voyage; but what will you say, signior,

To him that, searching out your serious worship, Has met a strange fortune?

John. How, good Frederick?

A militant girl to this boy would hit it.

Fred. No, mine's a nobler venture: What do you think, sir,

Of a distressed lady, one whose beauty

Fred. That's all one, she's forthcoming.

I have her sure, boy.

John. Hark ye, Frederick;

What truck betwixt my infant?

Fred. 'Tis too light, sir;

Stick to your charge, good Don John, I am well. John. But is there such a wench?

Fred. First tell me this;

Did you not lately, as you walk'd along,
Discover people that were arm'd, and likely
To do offence?

John. Yes, marry, and they urg'd it
As far as they had spirit.

Fred. Pray go forward.

John. A gentleman I found engag'd amongst

'em,

It seems of noble breeding, I'm sure brave metal;
As I returned to look you, I set into him,
And without hurt, I thank Heaven, rescued him.
Fred. My work's done then :

And now, to satisfy you, there is a woman,
Oh, John! there is a woman-

John. Oh, where is she?

Fred. And one of no less worth than I told; And which is more, fall'n under my protection. John. I am glad of that ;-forward, sweet Frederick!

Fred. And which is more than that, by this

Pet. Where is't?

[Lute sounds.

Ant. Above, in my master's chamber.

Pet. There's no creature: he hath the key himself, man.

Ant. This is his lute, let him have it.
[Sings within a little.
Pet. I grant ye; but who strikes it?
Ant. An admirable voice too, hark ye.
Pet. Anthony,

Art sure we are at home?

Ant. Without all doubt, Peter.

Pet. Then this must be the devil.
Ant. Let it be.

Good devil, sing again: O dainty devil,
Peter, believe it, a most delicate devil,
The sweetest devil-

Enter FREDERICK and Don JOHN.
Fred. If you would leave peeping.
John. I cannot, by no means.
Fred. Then come in softly;

And as you love your faith, presume no further
Than have promis'd.

you

To rail at fortune, to fall out with fate,
And tax the general world, will help me no-
thing:

Alas! I am the same still, neither are they
Subject to helps or hurts; our own desires
Are our own fates, and our own stars all our
fortune;

Which as we sway 'em, so abuse or bless us.
Enter FREDERICK and Don JOHN, peeping.
Fred. Peace to your meditations.
John. Pox upon ye,

Stand out of the light.

Con. I crave your mercy, sir!

My mind, o'ercharg'd with care, made me unmannerly.

Fred. Pray ye set that mind at rest, all shall be perfect.

John. I like the body rare; a handsome body, A wond'rous handsome body; would she would

turn!

And modest as her blushes! What blockhead
Would e'er have popp'd out such a dry apology
For his dear friend? and to a gentlewoman,
A woman of her youth and delicacy?
They are arguments to draw them to abhor us.
An honest moral man! 'tis for a constable;
A handsome man, a wholesome man,a tough man,
A liberal man, a likely man, a man

Made up like Hercules, unslack'd with service; The same to-night, to-morrow night, the next night,

And so to perpetuity of pleasures:
These had been things to hearken to, things
catching;

But you have such a spiced consideration,
Such qualms upon your worship's conscience,
Such chilblains in your blood, that all things
prick ye,

Which nature and the liberal world make custom;
And nothing but fair honour, O sweet honour,
Hang up your eunuch honour. That I was trusty,
And valiant, were things well put in; but modest!
A modest gentleman! O, wit, where wast thou?
Fred. I am sorry, John.

John. My lady's gentlewoman

Would laugh me to a school-boy, make me blush With playing with my cod-piece point: fie on thee, A man of thy discretion!

Fred. It shall be mended;

And henceforth ye shall have your due.

Yet heaven forbid we should have our deserts. What is he?

Con. Too, too near my offence, sir:

O he will cut me piece-meal.

Fred. 'Tis no treason?

John. Let it be what it will, if he cut here,

I'll find him out work.

Fred. He must buy you dear,

With more than common lives.

John. Fear not, nor weep not:

By Heaven, I'll fire the town before ye perish,
And then the more the merrier, we'll jog with ye.
Fred. Come in, and dry your eyes.
John. Pray no more weeping:

Spoil a sweet face for nothing! My return
Shall end all this, I warrant ye.

Con. Heaven grant it may.

[Exeunt.

You'll make my thanks too poor: I wear a sword, sir,

And have a service to be still dispos'd of,
As you shall please command it.

Petr. That manly courtesy is half my business,

sir: And, to be short, to make ye know I honour ye, And in all points believe your worth like oracle, This day, Petruchio,

A man that may command the strength of this place,

Hazard the boldest spirits, hath made choice
Only of you, and in a noble office.

John. Forward, I am free to entertain it.
Petr. Thus then;

I do beseech ye mark me. John. I shall, sir.

Petr. Ferrara's duke, would I might call him worthy,

But that he has razed out from his family,
As he has mine with infamy; this man,
Rather this powerful monster, we being left
But two of all our house to stock our memories,
My sister Constantia and myself, with arts and
witchcrafts,

Vows and such oaths Heaven has no mercy for,
Drew to dishonour this weak maid by stealth,
And secret passages I knew not of.

Oft he obtain'd his wishes, oft abus'd her,
I am asham'd to say the rest: this purchas'd,
And his hot blood allay'd, he left her,
And all our name to ruin.

John. This was foul play,

And ought to be rewarded so.
Petr. I hope so.

He 'scap'd me yester-night;

Which if he dare again adventure for John. Pray, sir, what commands have you to lay on me?

Petr. Only thus; by word of mouth to carry him A challenge from me, that so (if he have honour in him)

We
may decide all difference between us.
John. Fair and noble,

And I will do it home. When shall I visit ye? Petr. Please you this afternoon, I will ride with you,

For at the castle six miles hence, we are sure
To find him.

John. I'll be ready.

Petr. My man shall wait here, To conduct you to my house. John. I shall not fail ye.

Enter FREDERICK.

Fred. How now?

[Exit PETR.

John. All's well, and better than thou couldst expect, for this wench here is certainly no maid: and I have hopes she is the same that our two curious coxcombs have been so long a hunting after. Fred. Why do ye hope so?

John. Why, because first she is no maid, and next because she is handsome; there are two reasons for you: now do you find out a third, a better if you can. For take this, Frederick, for a certain rule, since she loves the sport, she'll never give it over; and therefore (if we have good luck) in time may fall to our share.

Fred. Very pretty reasons indeed! But I thought you had known some particulars, that made you conclude this to be the woman.

John. Yes, I know her name is Constantía.

Fred. That now is something; but I cannot believe her dishonest for all this: she has not one loose thought about her.

John. It's no matter, she's loose i' th' hilts, by heaven. There has been stirring, fumbling with linen, Frederick.

Fred. There may be such a slip.

John. And will be, Frederick, whilst the old

Land. Come, sir, who is it keeps your master company?

Ant. I say to you, Don John.
Land. I say what woman?
Ant. I say so too.

Land. I say again, I will know.
Ant. I say 'tis fit you should.

Land. And I tell thee he has a woman here.
Ant. I tell thee 'tis then the better for him.
Land. Was ever gentlewoman

So frumpt up with a fool? Well, saucy sirrah,
I will know who it is, and to what purpose.
I pay the rent, and I will know how my house
Comes by these inflammations. If this geer hold,
Best hang a sign-post up, to tell the signiors,
Here you may have lewdness at livery.

Enter FREDERICK.

Ant. 'Twould be a great ease to your age.
Fred. How now?

What's the matter, landlady?

Land. What's the matter!
Ye use me decently among ye, gentlemen.
Fred. Who has abused her? You, sir?
Land. Odd's my witness,

I will not be thus treated, that I will not.
Ant. I gave her no ill language.
Land. Thou liest lewdly;

Thou took'st me up at every word I spoke,
As I had been a maukin, a flirt gillian:

And thou think'st, because thou canst write and read,

Our noses must be under thee.

Fred. Dare you so, sirrah?

Ant. Let but the truth be known, sir, I be

seech ye

She raves of wenches, and I know not what, sir. Land. Go to, thou know'st too well, thou wicked varlet,

Thou instrument of evil.

Ant. As I live, sir, she's ever thus till dinner. Fred. Get ye in, I'll answer ye anon, sir. [Exit ANT. Now your grief, what is't? for I can guess Land. Ye may, with shame enough, If there was shame amongst you-nothing thought

on,

But how ye may abuse my house: not satisfied With bringing home your bastards to undo me,

But you must drill your whores here too; my patience,

Because I bear, and bear, and carry all,
And as they say, am willing to groan under,
Must be your make-sport now.

Fred. No more of these words,

Nor no more murmurings, lady: for you know
That I know something. I did suspect your anger,
But turn it presently and handsomely,

And bear yourself discreetly to this woman,
For such a one there is indeed.

Land. 'Tis well, sir.

Fred. Leave off your devil's matins, and your melancholies,

Or we shall leave our lodgings.

Land. You have much need

To use the vagrant ways, and to much profit:
Ye had that might content,

(At home within yourselves too) right good, gentlemen,

Wholesome, and ye said handsome. But you, gallants,

Beast that I was to believe ye——
Fred. Leave your suspicion;
For as I live there's no such thing.

Land. Mine honour;

And 'twere not for mine honour-
Fred. Come, your honour,

Your house, and you too, if you dare believe me,
Are well enough: sleek up yourself, leave crying,
For I must have ye entertain this lady
With all civility; she well deserves it,
Together with all service: I dare trust ye,
For I have found ye faithful. When you know
her,

You will find your own fault: no more words, but do it.

Land. You know you may command me.