Enter PETER and ANTHONY, two serving Men. Pet. WOULD we were remov'd from this town, Anthony, That we might taste some quiet; for mine own part, I'm almost melted with continual trotting Of who knows whom or where. Serve wenching soldiers! I'll serve a priest in Lent first, and eat bell-ropes. Tell me but th's; to what end came we hither? Pet. Shew your uses, Anthony. Not any thing, I take it, nor that thing A salt itch serve such uses! in things of moment, Answer me that; resolve me there, good Anthony. To find; or, if found, how to enjoy? Are men's Ant. To serve their uses. brains Made now-a-days with malt, that their affections Are never sober; but, like drunken people, Founder at every new fame? I do believe That men in love are ever drunk, as drunken men Are ever loving. Ant. Pr'ythee, be thou sober, And know that they are none of those, not guilty To give the wonder over. Pet. Would they were resolv'd To give me some new shoes too; for I'll be sworn Enter Don JOHN and Don FREDERICK. John. I would we could have seen her though; for sure She must be some rare creature, or report lies: All men's reports too. Fred. I could well wish I had seen Constantia : But, since she is so conceal'd, plac'd where No knowledge can come near her, so guarded As 'twere impossible, though known, to reach her, I have made up my belief. John. Hang me, from this hour, If I more think upon her; But, as she came a strange report unto me, Fred. 'Tis the next way But whither are you walking? After my meat, and then to bed. John. Will you not stir? John. I'd lay my life, this lady still- John. I have something to impart. I will not miss to meet ye. John. Where? Fred. I' th' high street; For, not to lie, I have a few devotions To do first, then I'm yours. John. Remember. [Exeunt. Enter PETRUCHIO, ANTONIO, and two Gen tlemen. Ant. Cut his wind-pipe, I say. 1 Gent. Fie, Antonio. Ant. Or knock his brains out first, and then forgive him. If you do thrust, be sure it be to th' hilts, A surgeon may see through him. 2 Gent. You are too violent. 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 home, and think at liberty yet certain, 'Tis not so far night as I thought; for see, A fair house yet stands open, yet all about it Are close, and no lights stirring; there may be foul play; I'll venture to look in. If there be knaves, may do a good office. I 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 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 Land. Now fy upon ye! was it for this purpose, You fetch'd your evening walks for your devotions? 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 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! 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 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, John. I am glad on't. Land. Bless me! what things are these? ye. Was not all lost: 'tis gold, and these are jewels, Land. Well, well, son John, I 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 traffic Sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, signior; 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 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 your morals. About the like adventure; he told me, |