The graces of this woman, made them curious To find the truth, which fince they find fo Lock'd up from their fearches, they are now refolv'd To give the wonder over.

Pet. Would they were refolv'd

To give me some new fhoes too: for I'll be fworn
These are e'en worn out to the reasonable foals
In their good worships business and some fleep
Would not do much amifs, unless they mean
To make a bell-man of me.

:

Here they come.

Enter Don John and Frederick.

[Exeunt.

John. I would we could have seen her tho': for

fure

She must be some rare creature, or report lyes, All men's reports too.

Fred. I could well wish I had feen Conftantia; But, fince she is fo conceal'd: plac'd where No knowledge can come near her; so guarded As 'twere impoffible, tho' 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,
So the next fame fhall lofe her.

Fred. 'Tis the best way:

But whither are you walking?
John. My old round,

After my meat, and then to bed.

Fred. 'Tis healthful.

John. Will not you stir?

Fred. I have a little bufinefs.

John. I'd lay my life this lady ftill----
Fred. Then you would lose it.
John. Pray let's walk together.
Fred. Now I cannot.

John. I have fomething to impart.
Fred. An hour hence

I will not mifs to meet you.

John. Where?

Fred. I' th' high-street;

For, not to lye, I have a few devotions

To do first, then I am yours.

John. Remember.

SCENE

[Exeunt

II.

Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two gentlemen.

Ant. Cut his wind-pipe, fay.

1 Gent. Fie, Antonio.

Ante

Ant. Or knock his brains out firft, and then

forgive him.

If you do thruft, be fure it be to th' hilts,

A furgeon may fee thro' him.

1 Gent. You are too violent.

2 Gent. Too open, undiscreet.

Petr. Am I not ruin'd?

The honour of my house crack'd? my blood

poifon'd?

My credit and my name?

2 Gent. Be sure it be so,

Before ye use this violence. Let not doubt,

And a suspecting anger so much sway you;
Your wisdom may be question'd.

Ant. I fay, kill him,

And then dispute the caufe; cut off what may be, And what is shall be safe.

2 Gent. Hang up a true man,

Because 'tis poffible he may be thievish:

Alas, is this good 'uftice?

Petr. I know as certain

As day must come again; as clear as truth,
And open as belie can lay it to me,

That I am bafely wrong'd, wrong'd above recom

pence,

K 3

Malici

Malicioufly abus'd, blafted for ever,

In name and honour, loft to all remembrance, But what is fmear'd and fhameful; I'muft kill him, Neceffity compels me.

1 Gent. But think better.

Petr. There is no other cure left; yet witness

with me

All that is fair in man, all that is noble,

I am not greedy of this life I seek for,

Nor thirst to shed man's blood; and would 'twere poffible,

I wish it with my foul, fo much I tremble
To offend the facred image of my Maker,

My fword could only kill his crimes; no, 'tis
Honour, honour, my noble friends, that idol ho-

nour,

That all the world now worships, not Petruchio, Muft do this juftice.

Ant. Let it once be done,

And 'tis no matter, whether you or honour,

Or both be acceffary.

2 Gent. Do you weigh, Petruchio,

The value of the perfon, power, and greatness, And what this fpark may kindle ?

Petr. To perform it,

So

So much I am ty'd to reputation,

And credit of my house, let it raife wild fires,
And storms that tofs me into everlasting ruin.
Yet I muft through, if ye dare fide me.
Ant. Dare?

Petr. Y' are friends indeed, if not.

2 Gent. Here's none flies from you,

Do it in what defign you please, we'll back ye. 1 Gent. Is the cause fo mortal, nothing but his life ?---

Petr. Believe me,

A lefs offence has been the defolation

Of a whole name.

2 Gent. No other way to purge it?

Petr. There is, but never to be hop'd for.

2 Gent. Think an hour more,

And if then you find no fafer road to guide you, We'll fet our refts too.

Ant. Mine's up already,

And hang him for my part, goes lefs than life.

2 Gent. If we fee noble caufe, 'tis like our

fwords

May be as free and forward as your words.