And seas met seas, to guard thee, I would through.

Land. Odd's my witness, if you ruffle me, I'll spoil your sweet face for you, that I will. Go, go to the door, there's a gentleman there would speak with ye.

John. Upon my life, Petruchio. Good, dear landlady, carry him into the dining-room, and I'll wait upon him presently.

Land. Well, Don John, the time will come that I shall be even with you.

[Exit.

John. I must be gone; yet if my project hold, You shall not stay behind: I'll rather trust A cat with sweet milk, Frederick. By her face,

Enter 1st CONSTANTIA.

I feel her fears are working.

Con. Is there no way,

I do beseech ye, think yet, to divert
This certain danger?

Fred. 'Tis impossible :

Their honours are engaged.

Con. Then there must be murder, Which, gentlemen, I shall no sooner hear of, Than make one in't. You may, if you please, sir, Make all go less.

John. Lady, wer't my own cause,

I could dispense; but loaden with my friend's trust,

I must go on, though general massacres,
As much I fear-

Con. Do you hear, sir? for Heaven's sake,
Let me request one favour of you.

Fred. Yes, any thing.

Enter ANTONIO, Surgeon, and a Gentleman.
Gent. What symptoms do ye find in him?
Sur. None, sir, dangerous, if he'd be ruled.
Gent. Why, what does he do?

Sur. Nothing that he should. First, he will let no liquor down but wine; and then he has a fancy that he must be dressed always to the tune of John Dory.

Gent. How, to the tune of John Dory? Sur. Why, he will have fiddlers, and make them play and sing it to him all the while. Gent. An odd fancy indeed.

Ant. Give me some wine.

Sur. I told ye so -'Tis death, sir.

Ant. 'Tis a horse, sir. Dost thou think I shall recover with the help of barley-water only? Gent. Fie, Antonio, you must be governed.

Ant. Why, sir, he feeds me with nothing but rotten roots and drowned chickens, stewed pericraniums and pia-maters; and when I go to bed (by Heaven 'tis true, sir) he rolls me up in lints, with labels at 'em, that I am just the man i' th' almanack, my head and face is in Aries' place.

Sur. Will it please ye, to let your friends see you opened?

Ant. Will it please you, sir, to give me a brimmer? I feel my body open enough for that. Give it me, or I'll die upon thy hand, and spoil thy

custom.

Sur. How, a brimmer?

Ant. Why look ye, sir! thus I am used still; I can get nothing that I want. In how long time

canst thou cure me?

Sur. In forty days.

Ant. I'll have a dog shall lick me whole in twenty. In how long canst thou kill me? Sur. Presently.

Ant. Do it: that's the shorter, and there's more delight in it.

Gent. You must have patience.

Ant. Man, I must have business-this foolish fellow hinders himself-I have a dozen rascals to hurt within these five days. Good man-mender, stop me up with parsley, like stuffed beef, and let me walk abroad.

Sur. You shall walk shortly.

Ant. I will walk presently, sir, and leave your sallads there, your green salves, and your oils; I'll to my old diet again, strong food, and rich wine, and try what that will do.

Sur. Well, go thy ways, thou art the maddest old fellow I ever met with. [Exeunt.

Enter 1st CONSTANTIA and Landlady.
Con. I have told you all I can, and more than
yet

Those gentlemen know of me. But are they
Such strange creatures, say you?

Land. There's the younger,

Don Juan, the errant'st jack in all this city:
The other time has blasted, yet he will stoop,
If not o'erflown, and freely, on the quarry—
Has been a dragon in his days. But, Tarmont,
Don Jenkin, is the devil himself-the dog-days-
The most incomprehensible whore-master-
Twenty a-night is nothing: the truth is,
Whose chastity he chops upon he cares not,
He flies at all-bastards, upon my conscience,
He has now in making multitudes-The last night
He brought home one; I pity her that bore it,
But we are all weak vessels. Some rich woman
(For wise I dare not call her) was the mother,
For it was hung with jewels; the bearing-cloth
No less than crimson velvet.

Con. How!

Land. 'Tis true, lady.

Con. Was it a boy too?

Land. A brave boy; deliberation,

Petr. They are so; 'tis the duke, 'tis even he,

gentlemen.

Sirrah, draw back the horses till we call ye.
I know him by his company.

Fred. I think too,
He bends up this way.
Petr. So he does.
John. Stand you still,

Within this covert, till I call. He comes forward;
Here will I wait him. To your places.
Petr. I need no more instruct ye.

John. Fear me not. [Exeunt PETR. and FRED.
Enter Duke and his Faction.

Duke. Feed the hawks up,

We'll fly no more to-day.-O my blest fortune, Have I so fairly met the man?

John. Ye have, sir, And him ye know by this

Duke. Sir, all the honour, And love

John. I do beseech your grace stay there. Dismiss your train a little.

Duke. Walk aside,

And out of hearing, I command ye.

Now, sir, be plain.

John. I will, and short.

him.

Duke. The man, and manner of wrong?
John. Petruchio;

The wrong, ye have dishonoured his sister.
Duke. Now stay you, sir,

And hear me a little. This gentleman's
Sister that you nam'd, 'tis true, I have long lov'd;
As true, I have enjoy'd her: no less truth,
I have a child by her. But that she, or he,
Or any of that family are tainted,
Suffer disgrace, or ruin, by my pleasures,
I wear a sword to satisfy the world, no,
And him in this cause when he pleases; for
know, sir,

She is my wife, contracted before Heaven,
(A witness I owe more tie to than her brother ;)
Nor will I fly from that name, which long since
Had had the church's approbation,
But for his jealous nature.

John. Your pardon, sir, I am fully satisfied.
Duke. Dear sir, I knew I should convert ye.
Had we but that rough man here now to-
John. And ye shall, sir.

What, hoa, hoa!

Duke. I hope you have laid no ambush

She quit my house, but whither—-——

Fred. Let not that-

Fran. This is the maddest mischief-never fool was so fobb'd off as I am-made ridiculous and to myself, to my own ass-trust a woman! I'll trust the devil first, for he dares be better than his word sometimes. Pray tell me, in what observance have I ever fail'd her!

Man. Nay, you can tell that best yourself.
Fran. Let me consider-

Enter Don FREDERICK and JOHN.
Fred. Let them talk, we'll go on before.
Fran. Where didst thou meet Constantia and
this woman?

Fred. Constantia! What are these fellows? Stay by all means.

Man. Why, sir, I met her in the great street that comes from the market-place, just at the turning, by a goldsmith's shop."

Fred. Stand still, John.

Fran. Well, Constantia has spun herself a fair thread now: what will her best friends think of this?

Fred. John, I smell some juggling, Jolm.
John. Yes, Frederick, I fear it will be proved

So.

much.

Fred. 'Tis she.

John. Very well.

Fred. Discreetly.

John. Finely carried.

Fred. Ye have no more of these tricks?

John. Ten to one, sir, I shall meet with them if ye have.

Fred. Is this fair?

John. Was it in you a friend's part to deal double? I am no ass, Don Frederick.

Fred. And, Don John, it shall appear I am no fool: disgrace me to make yourself thus every woman's courtsey; 'tis boyish, 'tis base,

John. 'Tis false; I privy to this dog-trick! Clear yourself, for I know well enough where the wind sits; or as I have a life

[Trampling within. Fred. No more; they are coming; shew no discontent, let's quietly away. If she be at home, our jealousies are over; if not, you and I must have a farther parley, John.

John. Yes, Don Frederick, ye may be sure we shall. But where are these fellows? Pox on't, 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.

John. Sir, I should be as glad of a mistress as another man.

Fred. Yes, o' my conscience wouldst thou, and of any other man's mistress too, that I'll answer for. [Exeunt.

Enter ANTONIO and his Man.

Ant. With all my gold?

Man. The trunk broke open, and all gone.
Ant. And the mother in the plot?
Man. And the mother and all.

Ant. And the devil and all: the mighty pox go with them! Belike they thought I was no more of this world, and those trifles would not disturb my conscience.

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

Ant. Well, my sweet mistress, I'll try how handsomely your ladyship can hang upon a pair of gallows: there's your master-piece. No imagination where they should be?

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

Ant. Get me then a water-conjuror, one that can raise water-devils. I'll port them! play at duck and drake with my money! Get me a conjuror, I say, inquire out a man that lets out devils.

Man. I don't know where.

Ant. In every street, Tom Fool; any blearey'd people with red heads and flat noses can perform it. Thou shalt know them by their halfgowns and no breeches. Find me out a conjuror, 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.

Enter Duke, PETRUCHIO, FREDERICK and Don JOHN.

Petr. Your grace is welcome now to Naples, so ye are all, gentlemen.

John. Don Frederick, will you step in, and give the lady notice who comes to visit her?

Petr. Bid her make haste; we come to see

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

Duke. Well, gentlemen, wrong not my good opinion.

Fred. For your dukedom, sir, I would not be a knave.

John. He that is, a rot run in his blood! Petr. But, hark ye, gentlemen, are you sure you had her here? Did you not dream this? John. Have you your nose, sir?

Petr. Yes, sir.

John. Then we had her.

Petr. Since ye are so short, believe your hav ing her shall suffer more construction. John. Well, sir, let it suffer.

Fred. How to convince ye, sir, I can't imagine; 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 yours: pawning our honours then to meet again; when if she be not found—

Fred. We stand engag'd to answer any worthy way we are call'd to.

Duke. We ask no more.

2d 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.

Moth. Out of sight o' the shore! why, d'ye think I'll depatriate?

2d Con. Depatriate! what's that? Moth. Why, ye fool you, leave my country: what, will you never learn to speak out of the vulgar road?

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

2d Con. Pray, mother, since your honour is so dear to you, consider that if we are taken, both it and we are lost for ever.

Moth. Ay, girl; but what will the world say, if they should hear so odious a thing of us, as that we should depatriate?

2d Con. Ay, there's it; the world! why, mother, the world does not care a pin, if both you and I were hang'd; and that we shall be certainly, if Antonio takes us, for running away with his gold.

Moth. Protest I care not, I'll 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 by any deportment that is not congruous in every degree, to the steps and measures of a strict practitioner of honour.

solv'd, though by it I should run a risco of never so stupendous a nature.

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

Moth. 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'm in a great incertitude, whether they will have liveliness sufficient to support me up to the top of the stairs or [Exit.

no.

2d Con. This sinning without pleasure I cannot endure to have always remorse, and ne'er do any thing that should cause it, is intolerable. If I lov'd money too, which I think I don't, my mother she has all that: I have nothing to comfort myself with, but Antonio's stiff beard; and that alone, for a woman of my years, is but a sorry kind of entertainment. I wonder why these old fumbling fellows should trouble themselves so much, only to trouble us more. They can do nothing, but put us in mind of our graves. Well, I'll no more on't; for to be frighted with death and damnation both at once is a little too hard. I do here vow I'll live for ever chaste, or find out some handsome young fellow I can love; I think that's the better.

[Mother looks out at the window. Moth. Come up, Cons, the fiddles are here. 2d Con. I come

Mother goes from the window. I must be gone, though whither I cannot tell. These fiddles, and her discreet companions, will quickly make an end of all she has stolen; and then five hundred new pieces sell me to another old fellow. 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.
[Goes up to her mother.

Enter Don JoIIN.