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. _Enter_ Constantia. _Con._ I'm ready, And through a world of dangers am flown to ye. Be full of haste and care, we are undone else: Where are your people? which way must we travel? For Heaven sake stay not here Sir. _Fred._ What may this prove? _Con._ Alas I am mistaken, lost, undone, For ever perish'd. Sir, for Heaven sake tell me, Are ye a Gentleman? _Fred._ I am. _Con._ Of this place? _Fred._ No, born in _Spain_. _Con._ As ever you lov'd honour, As ever your desires may gain their ends, Do a poor wretched woman but this benefit, For I am forc'd to trust ye. _Fred._ Y'ave charm'd me, Humanity and honour bids me help ye; And if I fail your trust.-- _Con._ The time's too dangerous To stay your protestations: I believe ye, Alas, I must believe ye: From this place, Good noble Sir, remove me instantly, And for a time, where nothing but your self, And honest conversation may come near me, In some secure place se[t]tle me: what I am And why thus boldly I commit my credit Into a strangers hand, the fears and dangers, That force me to this wild course, at more leisure I shall reveal unto you. _Fred._ Come, be hearty, He must strike through my life that takes ye from me. [_Exeunt._ SCENE VIII. _Enter_ Petruchio, Antonio, _and 2 Gent_. _Petr._ He will sure come. Are ye well arm'd? _Ant._ Never fear us. Here's that will make 'em dance without a Fiddle. _Petr._ We are to look for no weak foes, my friends, Nor unadvised ones. _Ant._ Best gamesters make the best game, We shall fight close and handsom then. _1 Gent. Antonio_, You are a thought too bloudy.