Antonio's Boy.

1

Drury-Lane.
Mr. Packer.

Mr. Aickin.

f

Mr. Henderson.
Mr. Jefferson.

Mr. Parfons.

Mr. Wright.

Peter and Two fervants to Don f Mr. W. Palmer.

Anthony, John and Frederick,

Surgeon,

{

Mr. Burton.

Mr. Wrighten.

THE

CHAN NCE S.

ACT I.

Enter Peter and Anthony, two Serving-men.

PETER.

we were remov'd from this town,

WOULD thony,

An

That we might tafte fome quiet; for my mine own part, I'm almost melted with continual trotting

After enquiries, dreams and revelations,

Of who knows whom or where. Serve wenching foldiI'll serve a priest in Lent firft, and eat bell-ropes. [ers ! Ant. Thou art the frowardeft fool

Pet. Why, good tame Anthony,

Tell me but this; to what end came we hither?
Ant. To wait upon our mafters.
Pet. But how, Anthony?

Answer me that; refolve me there, good Anthony,
Ant. To ferve their uses.

Pet. Shew your uses, Anthony.

Ant. To be employ'd in any thing,
Pet. No, Anthony,

Not any thing, I take it, nor that thing
We travel to discover, like new iflands;

A falt itch. ferve fuch uses! in things of moment,
Concerning things I grant ye, not things errant,
Sweet ladies' things, and things to thank the furgeon:
In no fuch things, fweet Anthony. Put cafe-

Ant. Come, come, all will be mended: this invifible. Of infinite report for shape and beauty,

A 3

[woman,

That

That bred all this trouble to no purpose,

They are determin'd now no more to think on.
Pet. Were there ever

Men known to run mad with report before?
Or wander after what they know not where

To find; or if found, how to enjoy ? Are men's brains
Made now-a-days with malt, that their affections
Are never fober; but like drunken people
Pounder at every new fame? I do believe

That men in love are ever drunk, as drunken men
Are ever loving.

Ant. Pr'ythee, be thou sober,

And know that they are none of those, not guilty
Of the leaft vanity of love: only a doubt
Fame might too far report, or rather flatter
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 fome new fhoes too; for I'll be fworn
Thefe are e'en worn out to the reasonable foles
In their good worships' bufinefs: and fome fleep
Would not do much amifs, unless they mean
To make a bell-man of me. Here they come.

[Exeunt,

Enter Don John and Don Frederick. John. I would we could have seen her tho': for sure She must be fome rare creature, or report lies:

All men's reports too.

Fred. I could well wish I had feen Conftantia:
But fince fhe is fo conceal'd, plac'd where
No knowledge can come near her, fo 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 fhe came a strange report unto me,

So the next fame shall lose her.

Fred. 'Tis the next wayPo whither are you walking?

John:

John. My old round,

After my meat, and then to bed.
Fred. 'Tis healthful.

John. Will you not stir?

Fred. I have a little bufinefs.
John. I'd lay my life, this lady ftill-
Fred. Then you would lofe 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 ye.

John. Where?

Fred. I'th' high street:

For, not to lie, I have a few devotions

To do firft, then I am yours.

John. Remember.

[Exeunt

Enter Petruchio, Antonio, and two Gentlemen.

Ant. Cut his wind-pipe, I fay..

1 Gent. Fie, Antonio.

Ant. Or knock his brains out first, and then forgive

If you do thrust, be sure it be to th' hilts,

A furgeon may see through him.

1 Gent. You are too violent.

2 Gent. Too open, indifcreet. Pet. Am I not ruin'd?

The honour of my house crack'd ?

My credit and my name?

2 Gent. Be fure it be fo,

Before you

[him.

my

blood poifon'd?

ufe this violence. Let not doubt

And a fufpecting anger fo much fway ye,

Your wifdom may be queftion'd.

Ant. I fay, kill him,

And then difpute the caufe; cut off what may be,
And what is fhall be safe.

2 Gent. Hang up a true man,

Becaufe 'tis poffible he may be thievish :

Alas! is this good juftice?

Pet. I know as certain

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

I

That

That I am bafely wrong'd, wrong'd above recompence,
Maliciously abus'd, blafted for ever

In name and honour, loft to all remembrance,
But what is finear❜d and shameful : I must kill him,
Neceffity compels me.

1 Gent. But think better.

Pet. There's no other cure left; yet witness with me All that is fair in man, all that is noble ;

I am not greedy for this life I feek for,

Nor thirft to fhed man's blood; and would 'twere poffible,
I wish it with my foul, fo much I tremble
T'offend the facred image of my Maker,

My fword fhould only kill his crimes: no, 'tis
Honour, honour, my noble friends, that idol honour,
That all the world now worships, not Petruchio,

Muft do this justice.

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?

Pet. To perform it,

So much I am tied to reputation,

And credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires,
And storms that tofs me into everlasting ruin,
Yet I must 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.

Gent. Is the cause so mortal? nothing but his life?

Pet. Believe me,

A lefs offence has been the defolation

Of a whole name.

1 Gent. No other way to purge it ?

Pet. 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 yè,
We'll fet our refts too..

Ant. Mine's up already,

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

2 Gent