SCENE II.

Pet. Nay the old woman's gone too. Ant. She's a Catterwauling Among the gutters: But conceive me, Peter, Where our good Masters should be? Pet. Where they should be I do conceive, but where they are, good Anthony— Ant. I, there it goes: my Masters bo-peep with me, With his slye popping in and out again, Argued a cause, a frippery cause. Pet. Believe me, They bear up with some carvel. Ant. I do believe thee, For thou hast such a Master for that chase, That till he spend his main Mast— Pet. Pray remember Your courtesie good Anthony, and withal, How long 'tis since your Master sprung a leak, He had a sound one since he came. [Lute sounds within. Ant. Hark. Pet. What? Ant. Dost not hear a Lute? Again? Pet. Where is't? Ant. Above in my Masters chamber. Pet. There's no creature: he hath the key himself man. SING within. Merciless Love, whom nature hath deny'd The use of eyes, lest thou should'st take a pride And glorie in thy murthers: Why am I That never yet transgress'd thy deity, Never broke vow, from whose eyes never Flew disdainfull dart Whose hard heart never, Slew those rewarders? Thou art young and fair, Thy Mother soft and gentle as the air, Thy holy fire still burning, blown with praier. Then everlasting Love restrain thy will 'Tis God-like to have power but not to kill. Ant. This is his Lute: let him have it. Pet. I grant you; 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, [Sing again. Good Devil sing again: O dainty Devil! Peter believe it, a most delicate Devil, The sweetest Devil—

Fred. If ye could leave peeping. John. I cannot by no means. Fred. Then come in softly, And as ye love your faith, presume no further Than ye have promised. John. Basta. Fred. What make you up so early Sir? John. You Sir in your contemplations. Pet. O pray ye peace Sir. Fred. Why peace Sir? Pet. Do you hear? John. 'Tis your Lute. Fred. Pray ye speak softly, She's playing on't. Ant. The house is haunted Sir, For this we have heard this half year. Fred. Ye saw nothing? Ant. Not I. Pet. Nor I Sir. Fred. Get us our breakfast then, And make no words on't; we'll undertake this spirit, If it be one. Ant. This is no Devil Peter. [Sing. Exeunt Servants. Mum, there be Bats abroad. Fred. Stay, now she sings. John. An Angels voice I'le swear. Fred. Why did'st thou shrug so? Either allay this heat; or as I live I will not trust ye. John. Pass: I warrant ye. [Exeunt.

Con. To curse those stars, that men say govern us, To rail at fortune, fall out with my Fate, And tax the general world, will help me nothing: Alas, I am the same still, neither are they Subject to helps, or hurts: Our own desires Are our own fates, our own stars, all our fortunes, Which as we sway 'em, so abuse, or bless us.

Fred. Peace to your meditations. John. Pox upon ye, Stand out o'th' light. Const. I crave your mercy Sir, My minde o're-charg'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 handsom body, A wondrous handsom body: would she would turn: See, and that spightful puppy be not got Between me and my light again. Fred. 'Tis done, As all that you command shall be: the Gentleman Is safely off all danger. John. O de dios. Const. How shall I thank ye Sir? how satisfie? Fr. Speak softly, gentle Lady, all's rewarded, Now does he melt like Marmalad. John. Nay, 'tis certain, Thou art the sweetest woman I e're look'd on: I hope thou art not honest. Fred. None disturb'd ye? Const. Not any Sir, nor any sound came near me, I thank your care. Fred. 'Tis well. John. I would fain pray now, But the Devil and that flesh there, o' the world, What are we made to suffer? Fred. He'll enter; Pull in your head and be hang'd. John. Hark ye Frederick, I have brought ye home your Pack-saddle. Fred. Pox upon ye. Con. Nay let him enter: fie my Lord the Duke, Stand peeping at your friends. Fred. Ye are cozen'd Lady, Here is no Duke. Const. I know him full well Signior. John. Hold thee there wench. Fred. This mad-brain'd fool will spoil all. Const. I do beseech your grace come in. John. My Grace, There was a word of comfort. Fred. Shall he enter? Who e're he be? John. Well follow'd Frederick. Const. With all my heart. Fred. Come in then.

John. 'Bless ye Lady. Fr. Nay start not, though he be a stranger to ye, He's of a noble strain, my kinsman, Lady, My Country-man, and fellow Traveller, One bed contains us ever, one purse feeds us, And one faith free between us; do not fear him, He's truly honest. John. That's a lye. Fred. And trusty: Beyond your wishes: valiant to defend, And modest to converse with, as your blushes. Jo. Now may I hang my self; this commendation Has broke the neck of all my hopes: for now Must I cry, no forsooth, and I forsooth, and surely, And truly as I live, and as I am honest. Has done these things for 'nonce too; for he knows Like a most envious Rascal as he is, I am not honest, nor desire to be, Especially this way: h'as watch'd his time, But I shall quit him. Const. Sir, I credit ye. Fred. Go kiss her John. John. Plague o' your commendations. Const. Sir, I shall now desire to be a trouble. John. Never to me, sweet Lady: Thus I seal My faith, and all my service. Const. One word Signior. John. Now 'tis impossible I should be honest, She kisses with a conjuration Would make the Devil dance: what points she at? My leg I warrant, or my well knit body, Sit fast Don Frederick. Fred. 'Twas given him by that Gentleman You took such care of; his own being lost i'th' scuffle. Con. With much joy may he wear it: 'tis a right one, I can assure ye Gentleman, and right happy May you be in all fights for that fair service. Fred. Why do ye blush? Const. 'T had almost cozen'd me, For not to lye, when I saw that, I look'd for Another Master of it: but 'tis well. [Knock within. Fred. Who's there?

Stand ye a little close: Come in Sir, [Exit Const. Now what's the news with you? Anth. There is a Gentleman without, Would speak with Don John. John. Who Sir? Ant. I do not know Sir, but he shews a man Of no mean reckoning. Fred. Let him shew his name, And then return a little wiser. Ant. Well Sir. [Exit Anthony. Fred. How do you like her John? John. As well as you Frederick, For all I am honest: you shall find it so too. Fred. Art thou not honest? John. Art thou an Ass? And modest as her blushes? What block-head Would e're have popt out such a dry Apologie, 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 wholsome man, a tough man, A liberal man, a likely man, a man Made up like Hercules, unslak'd with service: The same to night, to morrow night, the next night, And so to perpetuitie of pleasures, These had been things to hearken to, things catching: But you have such a spic'd consideration, Such qualms upon your worships conscience, Such chil-blains in your bloud, that all things pinch ye, Which nature, and the liberal world makes custom, And nothing but fair honour, O sweet honor, 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 sorrie John. John. My Ladies Gentlewoman Would laugh me to a S[c]hool-boy, make me blush With playing with my Codpiece point: fie on thee, A man of thy discretion? Fred. It shall be mended: And henceforth ye shall have your due.

John. I look for't: How now, who is't? Ant. A Gentleman of this Town And calls himself Petrucchio.

John. I'le attend him. Const. How did he call himself? Fre. Petrucchio, Does it concern you ought? Const. O Gentlemen, The hour of my destruction is come on me, I am discover'd, lost, left to my ruine: As ever ye had pity— John. Do not fear, Let the great devil come, he shall come through me: Lost here, and we about ye? Fred. Fall before us? Const. O my unfortunate estate, all angers Compar'd to his, to his— Fred. Let his, and all mens, Whilst we have power and life—stand up for heaven sake. Con. I have offended heaven too; yet heaven knows— John. We are all evil: Yet Heaven forbid we should have our deserts. What is he? Con. Too too near to 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'le find him cut-work. Fred. He must buy you dear, With more than common lives. John. Fear not, nor weep not: By heaven I'le fire the Town before ye perish, And then, the more the merrier, we'l 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 you. Const. Heaven grant it. [Exeunt.