Duke. How!

Petr. What did you fay, Sir?

Fred. Gone, by heaven remov'd. The woman of the houfe too.

Petr. What, that reverend old woman that tir'd me with compliments?

Fred. The very fame.

John. Well, Don Frederick.

Fred. Don John, it is not well. But------
Petr. Gone!

Fred. This fellow can fatisfy I lye not.

Pet. A little after my mafter was departed, Sir, with this gentleman, my fellow and myfelf being fent on business, as we muft think on purpose.---

Petr. Hang these circumftances, they always ferve to usher in ill ends.

John. Now could I eat that rogue, I am fo

Fred. Directly gone, fled, shifted; what would ha' me fay?

you

Duke. Well, gentlemen, wrong not my good opinion.

Fred. For your dukedom, Sir, I would not be a knave.

John.

John. He that is, a rot run in his blood.

Petr. But hark you, gentlemen, are you fure you had her here? did you not dream this? John. Have you your nofe, Sir?

Petr. Yes, Sir.

John. Then we had her.

Petr. Since you are fo fhort, believe your having her fhall fuffer more conftruction.

John. Well, Sir, let it suffer.

Fred. How to convince you, Sir, I can't imagine; but my life shall justify my innocence, or fall with it.

Duke. Thus then-----for we may be all abus'd. Petr. 'Tis poffible.

Duke. Here let's part until to-morrow this time; we to our way to clear this doubt, and you to yours: pawning our honours then to meet again; when if the be not found-----

Fred. We ftand engag'd to answer any worthy way we are call'd to.

Duke. We ask no more.

Petr. To morrow certain.

John. If we out-live this night, Sir.

[Exeunt Duke and Petruchio.

Fred.

Fred. Come, Don John, we have fomewhat now

to do.

John. I am fure I would have.

Fred. If the be not found, we must fight.

John. I am glad on't, I have not fought a great

while.

Fred. If we die-----

John. There's fo much money fav'd in lechery.

END OF THE THIRD ACT.

[Exeunt

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter 2d Conftantia and her Mother.

Moth. HOLD, Cons, hold, for goodness hold ;

I am in that defertion of spirit for want of breath, that I am almoft reduc'd to the neceffity of not being able to defend myself against the inconve

nience of a fall.

2 Con. Dear mother, let us go a little fafter to fecure ourselves from Antonio; for my part I am in that terrible fright, that I can neither think, fpeak, nor ftand ftill, till we are safe on shipboard, and out of fight of the fhore.

Moth.

Moth. Out of fight o'the fhore! why, do

think I'll depatriate?

2 Con. Depatriate! what's that?

you

Moth. Why, you fool you, leave my country: what, will you never learn to speak out of the vulgar road?

2 Con. Olord! this hard word will undo us.

Moth. As I am a chriftian, if it were to fave my honour, (which is ten thousand times dearer to me than my life) I would not be guilty of fo odious a thought.

2 Con. Pray mother, fince your honour is fo dear to you, confider that, if we are taken, both it and we are loft for ever.

Moth. Ay, girl, but what will the world say, if they should hear fo odious a thing of us, as that we should depatriate ?

2 Con. Ay, there's it; the world! why, mother, the world does not care a pin if both you and I were hang'd; and that we fhall be certainly, if Antonio takes us, for running away with his gold.

Moth. Proteft I care not, I'll ne'er depart from the demarches of a perfon of quality; and let come what will, I fhall rather choose to submit myself to my fate, than strive to prevent it by any deportment

deportment that is not congruous, in every degree, to the steps and measures of a strict practitioner of honour.

2 Con. Would not this make one start mad? her ftile is not more out of the way, than her manner of reasoning; fhe first sells me to an ugly old fellow, then fhe runs away with me and all his gold, and now, like a ftrict practitioner of honour, refolves to be taken, rather than depatriate, as fhe calls it.

[Afide.

Moth. As I am a chriftian, Cons, a tavern, and a very decent fign! I'll in, I am refolv'd, though by it I should run a rifco of never fo ftupenduous

a nature.

2 Con. There's no stopping her; what shall I do? Moth. I'll fend for my kinfwoman, and fome mufick, to revive me a little; for really, Cons, I am reduc'd to that fad imbecillity by the injury I have done my poor feet, that I'm in a great incertitude whether they will have liveliness fufficient to support me up to the top of the ftairs or no. [Exit.

2 Con. This finning without pleasure I cannot endure; to have always a remorfe, and ne'er do any thing that fhould cause it, is intolerable. If I lov'd money too, which, I think, I don't, my mother