Duke. No more, I know it;
You know your Quarters?
1 Gent. Will you go alone Sir?
Du. Ye shall not be far from me, the least noise
Shall bring ye to my rescue.
2 Gent. We are counsell'd. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Don John.
John. Was ever man so paid for being curious?
Ever so bob'd for searching out adventures,
As I am? did the Devil lead me? must I needs be peeping
Into mens houses where I had no business,
And make my self a mischief? 'Tis well carried;
I must take other mens occasions on me,
And be I know not whom: most finely handled:
What have I got by this now? what's the purchase?
A piece of evening Arras work, a child,
Indeed an Infidel: this comes of peeping:
A lump got out of laziness; good white bread
Let's have no bawling with ye: 'sdeath, have I
Known wenches thus long, all the ways of wenches
Their snares and subtilties? have I read over
All their School learnings, div'd into their quiddits,
And am I now bum-fidled with a Bastard?
Fetch'd over with a Card of five, and in mine old days,
After the dire massacre of a million
Of Maiden-heads? caught the common way, i'th' night too
Under anothers name, to make the matter
Carry more weight about it? well Don John,
You will be wiser one day, when ye have purchas'd
A heavy of these Butter-prints together,
With searching out conceal'd iniquities,
Without commission: why, it would never grieve me,
If I had got this Ginger-bread: never stirr'd me,
So I had had a stroak for't: 't had been Justice
Then to have kept it; but to raise a dayrie
For other mens adulteries, consume my self in candles,
And scowring works, in Nurses Bells and Babies,
Only for charity, for meer I thank you,
A little troubles me: the least touch for it,
Had but my breeches got it, had contented me.
Whose e're it is, sure 't had a wealthy Mother,
For 'tis well cloathed, and if I be not cozen'd,
Well lin'd within: to leave it here were barbarous,
And ten to one would kill it: a more sin
Then his that got it: well, I will dispose on't,
And keep it, as they keep deaths heads in rings,
To cry memento to me; no more peeping.
Now all the danger is to qualifie
The good old gentlewoman, at whose house we live,
For she will fall upon me with a Catechism
Of four hours long: I must endure all;
For I will know this Mother: Come good wonder,
Let you and I be jogging: your starv'd trebble
Will waken the rude watch else: all that be
Curious night-walkers, may they find my fee. [Exit.
SCENE VII.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. Sure he's gone home:
I have beaten all the purlews,
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's—
Where he lyes moor'd, to mend his leaks.