wits for her. Hark you, my dear foul, canst thou love me?

2 Con. If I could, what then?

John. Why, you know what then, and then fhould I be the happiest man alive.

2 Con. Ay, fo you all fay till you have your defires, and then you leave us.

John. But, my dear heart, I am not made like other men; I never can love heartily till I have---2 Con. Got their maidenheads; but fuppofe now I fhould be no maid.

John. Pr'ythee fuppofe me nothing, but let me try.

2 Con. Nay, good Sir, hold.

John. No maid! why, fo much the better, thou art then the more experienc'd; for my part I hate a bungler at any thing.

2 Con. O dear! I like this fellow ftrangely; hark you, Sir, I am not worth a groat; but though you fhould not be fo neither, if you'll but love me, I'll follow you all the world over; I'll work for you, beg for you, do any thing for you, so you'll promise to do nothing with any body else.

John. O heaven's! I'm in another world, this wench fure was made o'purpofe for me, he is fo

juft

juft of my humour. My dear, 'tis impoffible for me to fay how much I will do for thee, or with thee, thou fweet bewitching woman; but let's make hafte home, or I fhall never be able to hold qut till I come thither,

[Exeunt.

Fred. And art thou fure it was. Conftantia, fay'st thou, that he was leading?

Fran. Am I fure I live, Sir? Why, I dwelt in the house with her; how can I chufe but know her?

Fred. But did'ft thou fee her face?

Fran. Lord, Sir, I faw her face as plainly as I fee yours just now, not two streets off.

Fred. Yes, 'tis e'en fo; I fufpected it at firft, but then he forfwore it with that confidence-------Well, Don John, if thefe be your practices, you fhall have no more a friend of me, Sir, I affure you. Perhaps, tho', he met her by chance, and intends to carry her to her brother, and the duke,

Enter Don John, and fecond Conftantia.

A little time will fhew.----Gods fo, here he is;

I'll ftep behind this fhop, and obferve what he fays.

John. Here, now go in, and make me for ever happy.

Fred. Dear Don John.

John. A pox o' your kindness, how the devil comes he here just at this time? now will he ask me forty foolish questions, and I have fuch a mind to this wench, that I cannot think of one excuse, for my life.

Fred. Your fervant, Sir; pray who's that you lock'd in just now at the door?

John. Why, a friend of mine that's gone up to

read a book.

Fred. A book! that's a queint one, i'faith: pr'ythee, Don John, what library haft thou been buying this afternoon? for i' th' morning to my knowledge thou had'st never a book there, except it were an almanack, and that was none of thy own neither.

John. No, no, it's a book of his own he brought along with him. A fcholar that is given to reading.

Fred. And do fcholars, Don John, wear petticoats now a-days?

John

John. Plague on him, he has feen her.---Well, Don Frederick, thou know'ft I am not good at lying; 'tis a woman, I confefs it, make your best on't, what then?

Fred. Why then, Don John, I defire you'll be pleas'd to let me fee her.

John. Why, faith, Frederick, I should not he against the thing, but you know a man must keep his word, and she has a mind to be private.

Fred. But, John, you may remember when I met a lady fo before, this very felf-fame lady too, that I got leave for you to fee her John.

John. Why, do you think then that this here is Conftantia?

Fred. I cannot properly say I think it, John, because I know it; this fellow here faw her as you led her i'th' ftreets.

John. Well, and what then? who does he fay it is?

Fred. Afk him, Sir, and he'll tell you.

John. Sweet-heart, doft thou know this lady? Fran. I think I fhould, Sir, I ha' liv'd long enough in the house with her to know her fure. John. And how do they call her pr'ythee? Fran. Conftantia !

John.

John. How! Conftantia!

Fran. Yes, Sir, the woman's name is Conftantia; that's flat.

John. Is it fo, Sir? and fo is this too. [Strikes him. Fran. Oh, oh. [Runs out.

John. Now, Sirrah, you may fafely fay you have not born falfe witnefs for nothing.

Fred. Fy, Don John, why do you beat the poor fellow for doing his duty, and telling truth?

Fred. Telling truth! thou talk'ft as if thou hadft been hir'd to bear false witness too: you are a very fine gentleman.

Fred. What a ftrange confidence he has! but is there no fhame in thee? nor any confideration of what is juft, or honeft, to keep a woman thus against her will, that thou know'ft is in love with another man too; do'ft think a judgment will not follow this?

John. Good dear Frederick, do thou keep thy fentences and thy morals for fome better opportunity, this here is not a fit fubject for 'em: I tell thee fhe is no more Conftantia than thou art.

Fred. Why won't you let me fee her then? John. Because I can't; befides, fhe is not for thy turn.

Fred,