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.
SCENE III.
Enter Petrucchio, with a Letter.
Petr. This man should be of special rank:
For these commends carry no common way,
No slight worth with 'em:
He shall be he.
Enter Don John.
John. 'Save ye Sir: I am sorrie
My business was so unmannerly, to make ye
Wait thus long here.
Petr. Occasions must be serv'd Sir:
But is your name Don John?