SCENE XI.

Fred. Give me the candle: so, go you out that way. Peter. What have we now to do? Fred. And o' your life Sirrah, Let none come near the door without my knowledge, No not my Landlady, nor my friend. Peter. 'Tis done Sir. Fred. Nor any serious business that concerns me. Peter. Is the wind there again? Fred. Be gone. Peter. I am Sir. [Exit.

Fre. Now enter without fear.—And noble Lady That safety and civility ye wish'd for Shall truly here attend you: no rude tongue Nor rough behaviour knows this place, no wishes Beyond the moderation of a man, Dare enter here; your own desires and Innocence, Joyn'd to my vow'd obedience, shall protect you, Were dangers more than doubts. Const. Ye are truly noble, And worth a womans trust: let it become me, (I do beseech you, Sir) for all your kindness, To render with my thanks, this worthless trifle; I may be longer troublesome. Fred. Fair offices Are still their own rewards: Heav'n bless me Lady From selling civil courtesies: may it please ye, If ye will force a favour to oblige me, Draw but that cloud aside, to satisfie me For what good Angel I am engag'd. Const. It shall be, For I am truly confident ye are honest: The Piece is scarce worth looking on. Fred. Trust me 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 mens contemplations! what a Paradise Runs through each part she has! good bloud be temperate: I must look off: too excellent an object Confounds the sense that sees it. Noble Lady, If there be any further service to cast on me, Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye, Or the engagement of whole Families. Const. Your service is too liberal, worthy Sir, Thus far I shall entreat. Fred. Command me Lady, You make your power too poor. Const. That presently With all convenient haste, you would retire Unto the street you found me in. Fred. 'Tis done. Const. There, if you find a Gentleman opprest With force and violence, do a mans 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 pity, I shall conjure 'em. Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessary Are there before ye. Const. All my prayers go with ye. [Exit. 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 Kings Exchequer, 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 sea-Cards, All our endeavours and our motions, (As they do to the North) still point at beauty, Still at the fairest: for a handsom woman, (Setting my soul aside) it should go hard, But I would strain my body: yet to her, Unless it be her own free gratitude, Hopes ye shall dye, and thou tongue rot within me, E're I infringe my faith: now to my rescue. [Exit.

Duke. You will not all oppress me? Ant. Kill him i'th' wanton eye: let me come to him. Duke. Then ye shall buy me dearly. Petr. Say you so Sir? Ant. I say cut his Wezand, spoil his piping; Have at your love-sick heart Sir.

John. Sure 'tis fighting. My friend may be engag'd: fie Gentlemen, This is unmanly odds. Ant. I'le stop your mouth Sir.

John. Nay, then have at thee freely: There's a plumb Sir to satisfie your longing. Petr. Away: I hope I have sped him: here comes rescue, We shall be endangered: where's Antonio? Ant. I must have one thrust more Sir. John. Come up to me. Ant. A mischief confound your fingers. Petr. How is't? Ant. Well: Ha's given me my quietus est, I felt him In my small guts, I'me sure, has feez'd me: This comes of siding with ye. 2 Gent. Can you go Sir? Ant. I should go man, and my head were off, Never talk of going. Petr. Come, all shall be well then, I hear more rescue coming.

Ant. Let's turn back then; My skull's uncloven yet, let me but kill. Petr. Away for Heaven sake with him. John. How is't? Duke. Well Sir, Only a little stagger'd. Faction Duke. Let's pursue 'em. Du. No not a man, I charge ye: thanks good coat, Thou hast sav'd me a shrewd welcom: 'twas put home too, With a good mind I'me sure on't. John. Are ye safe then? Duke. My thanks to you brave Sir, whose timely valour, And manly courtesie came to my rescue. John. Ye'had foul play offer'd ye, and shame befal him That can pass by oppression. Duke. May I crave Sir, But thus much honour more, to know your name? And him I am so bound to? John. For the Bond Sir, 'Tis every good mans tye: to know me further Will little profit ye; I am a stranger, My Country Spain; my name Don John, a Gentleman That lye here for my study. Duke. I have heard Sir, Much worthy mention of ye, yet I find Fame short of what ye are. John. You are pleas'd Sir, To express your courtesie: may I demand As freely what you are, and what mischance Cast you into this danger? Duke. For this present I must desire your pardon: you shall know me E're it be long Sir, and a nobler thanks Than now my will can render. 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 Sir: pray ye use mine, For 'twill be hard to find your own now. John. No Sir. Du. Indeed ye shall, I can command another: I do beseech ye honour me. John. I will Sir, And so I'le take my leave. Duke. Within these few days I hope I shall be happy in your knowledge, Till when I love your memory. [Exit Duke, &c. John. I yours. This is some noble fellow.

Fred. 'Tis [h]is tongue sure. Don John? John. Don Frederick? Fred. Ye're fairly met Sir: I thought ye had been a Bat-fowling: prethee tell me, What Revelations hast thou had to night, That home was never thought of? John. Revelations? I'le 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 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 while 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 ye 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 o' mine, man. Fred. Answer the Parish so. John. Cheated introth: Peeping into a house, by whom I know not, Nor where to find the place again: no Frederick, Had I but kist the ring for't; '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 stranger fortune? John. How, good Frederick? A militant girle now 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 Would oversell all Italy? John. Where is she— Fred. A woman of that rare behaviour, So qualified, as admiration Dwells round about her: of that perfect spirit— John. I marry Sir. Fred. That admirable carriage, That sweetness in discourse; young as the morning, Her blushes staining his. John. But where's this creature? Shew me but that. Fred. That's all one, she's forth-coming, I have her sure Boy. John. Hark ye Frederick, What truck betwixt my Infant? Fred. 'Tis too light Sir, Stick to your charges good Don John, I am well. John. But is there such a wench? Fred. First tell me this, Did ye not lately as ye 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. Joh. A Gentleman I found ingag'd amongst 'em, It seems of noble breeding, I'm sure brave metal, As I return'd to look you, I set in to him, And without hurt (I thank heaven) rescued him, And came my self off safe too. Fred. My work's done then: And now to satisfie 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 assure ye; And which is more, fain under my protection. John. I am glad of that: forward sweet Frederick. Fred. And which is more than that, by this nights wandring, And which is most of all, she is at home too Sir. John. Come, let's be gone then. Fred. Yes, but 'tis most certain, You cannot see her, John. John. Why? Fred. She has sworn me That none else shall come near her: not my Mother, Till some few doubts are clear'd. John. Not look upon her? What chamber is she in? Fred. In ours. John. Let's go I say: A womans oaths are wafers, break with making, They must for modestie a little: we all know it. Fred. No, I'le assure you Sir. John. Not see her? I smell an old dog trick of yours, well Frederick, Ye talkt to me of whoring, let's have fair play, Square dealing I would wish ye. Fred. When 'tis come, (Which I know never will be) to that issue, Your spoon shall be as deep as mine Sir. John. Tell me, And tell me true, is the cause honourable, Or for your ease? Fred. By all our friendship, John, 'Tis honest, and of great end. John. I am answer'd: But let me see her though: leave the door open As ye go in. Fred. I dare not. John. Not wide open, But just so, as a jealous husband Would level at his wanton wife through. Fred. That courtesie, If ye desire no more, and keep it strictly, I dare afford ye: come, 'tis now near morning. [Exit.