SCENE II.

_Enter_ Peter, _and_ Anthony.

_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--

_Enter_ Frederick, _and Don_ John.

_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._

_Enter_ Constantia.

_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.

_Enter_ Frederick, _and Don_ John, _peeping_.

_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.

_Enter Don_ John.

_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?

_Enter_ Anthony.

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.

_Enter_ Anthony.

_John._ I look for't: How now, who is't?

_Ant._ A Gentleman of this Town And calls himself _Petrucchio_.

_Enter_ Constantia.

_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._