_Fred._ Trust me The abstract of all beauty, soul of sweetness, Defend me honest thoughts, I shall grow wild else: What eyes are there, rather what little heavens, To stir mens contemplations! what a Paradise Runs through each part she has! good bloud be temperate: I must look off: too excellent an object Confounds the sense that sees it. Noble Lady, If there be any further service to cast on me, Let it be worth my life, so much I honour ye, Or the engagement of whole Families. _Const._ Your service is too liberal, worthy Sir, Thus far I shall entreat. _Fred._ Command me Lady, You make your power too poor. _Const._ That presently With all convenient haste, you would retire Unto the street you found me in. _Fred._ 'Tis done. _Const._ There, if you find a Gentleman opprest With force and violence, do a mans office, And draw your sword to rescue him. _Fred._ He's safe, Be what he will, and let his foes be Devils, Arm'd with your pity, I shall conjure 'em. Retire, this key will guide ye: all things necessary Are there before ye. _Const._ All my prayers go with ye. [_Exit._ _Fred._ Ye clap on proof upon me: men say gold Does all, engages all, works through all dangers: Now I say beauty can do more: The Kings Exchequer, Nor all his wealthy _Indies_, could not draw me Through half those miseries this piece of pleasure Might make me leap into: we are all like sea-Cards, All our endeavours and our motions, (As they do to the North) still point at beauty, Still at the fairest: for a handsom woman, (Setting my soul aside) it should go hard, But I would strain my body: yet to her, Unless it be her own free gratitude, Hopes ye shall dye, and thou tongue rot within me, E're I infringe my faith: now to my rescue. [_Exit._ _Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Duke, _pursued by_ Petruccio, Antonio, _and that Faction_. _Duke._ You will not all oppress me? _Ant._ Kill him i'th' wanton eye: let me come to him. _Duke._ Then ye shall buy me dearly. _Petr._ Say you so Sir? _Ant._ I say cut his Wezand, spoil his piping; Have at your love-sick heart Sir. _Enter Don_ John. _John._ Sure 'tis fighting. My friend may be engag'd: fie Gentlemen, This is unmanly odds. _Ant._ I'le stop your mouth Sir. [Du. _fals down_, _Don_ John _bestrides him_. _John._ Nay, then have at thee freely: There's a plumb Sir to satisfie your longing. _Petr._ Away: I hope I have sped him: here comes rescue, We shall be endangered: where's _Antonio_? _Ant._ I must have one thrust more Sir. _John._ Come up to me. _Ant._ A mischief confound your fingers. _Petr._ How is't?