_Enter Officer._ _Petr._ Lodge these safe, till I send for 'em; Let none come to 'em, nor no noise be heard Of where they are, or why: away. _John._ By this hand A handsom whore: Now will I be arrested, And brought home to this officers: a stout whore, I love such stirring ware: pox o' this business, A man must hunt out morsels for another, And starve himself: a quick-ey'd whore, that's wild-fire, And makes the bloud dance through the veins like billows. I will reprieve this whore. _Duke._ Well, good luck with ye. _Fred._ As much attend your grace. _Petr._ To morrow certain-- _John._ If we out-live this night Sir. _Fred._ Come _Don John_, We have something now to do. _John._ I am sure I would have. _Fred._ If she be not found, we must fight. _John._ I am glad on't, I have not fought a great while. _Fred._ If we dye-- _Jo._ There's so much mony sav'd in lecherie. [_Exeunt._ _Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._ _Enter_ Duke, Petrucchio, _below, and_ Vecchio, _above_. _Duke._ It should be hereabouts. _Petr._ Your grace is right, This is the house, I know it. _Vec._ Grace? _Duke._ 'Tis further By the description we received. _Petr._ Good my Lord the Duke, Believe me, for I know it certainly, This is the very house. _Vec._ My Lord the Duke? _Duke._ Pray Heaven this man prove right now. _Petr._ Believe it, he's a most sufficient Scholar, And can do rare tricks this way; for a figure, Or raising an appearance, whole Christendom Has not a better; I have heard strange wonders of him. _Duke._ But can he shew us where she is? _Petr._ Most certain, And for what cause too she departed. _Duke._ Knock then, For I am great with expectation, Till this man satisfie me: I fear the _Spaniards_, Yet they appear brave fellows: can he tell us? _Petr._ With a wet finger, whether they be false. _Duke._ Away then. _Petr._ Who's within here? _Enter_ Vecchio. _Vec._ Your grace may enter. _Duke._ How can he know me? _Petr._ He knows all. _Vec._ And you Sir. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II. _Enter Don_ John, _and_ Frederick. _John._ What do you call his name? _Fred._ Why, _Peter Vecchio_. _John._ They say he can raise Devils, Can he make 'em Tell truth too, when he has rais'd 'em? for believe it, These Devils are the lyingst Rascals. _Fred._ He can compel 'em. _John._ With what? can he Tye squibs in their tails, and fire the truth out? Or make 'em eat a bawling Puritan, Whose sanctified zeal shall rumble like an Earth-quake? _Fred._ With Spells man.