_Clor._ Call in some Officers, and stay the Captain. _Jac._ You shall not need. _Clor._ This is your drunkenness. _Fra._ O me, unhappy Brother, _Frederick_, Look but upon me, do not part so from me, Set him a little higher, he is dead. _Clora._ O villain, villain. _Enter_ Fabritio, _and Servants_. _Fab._ How now what's the matter? _Fra._ O Sir my Brother! O my dearest Brother! _Clor._ This drunken trowgh has kill'd him. _Fab._ Kill'd him? _Clor._ Yes. For Heavens sake hang him quickly, he will do Ev'ry day such a murder else, there is nothing But a strong Gallows that can make him quiet, I finde it in his nature too late. _Fab._ Pray be quiet, Let me come to him. _Clor._ Some go for a Surgeon. _Fra._ O what a wretched woman has he made me! Let me alone good Sir. _Fab._ To what a fortune, Hast thou reserv'd thy life! _Ja. Fabritio._ _Fab._ Never entreat me, for I will not know thee, Nor utter one word for thee, unless it be To have thee hang'd; for Heaven sake be more temperate. _Jac._ I have a sword still, and I am a villain. _Clor. &c._ Hold, hold, hold. _Jac._ Ha? _Clor._ Away with him for Heavens sake He's too desperate for our enduring. _Fab._ Come, you shall sleep, come strive not I'le have it so, here take him to his lodging, and See him laid before you part. [_Exeunt_ Jac. _with Ser_. _Serv._ We will Sir. _Fred._ Ne're wonder, I am living yet, and well, I thank you Sister for your grief, pray keep it Till I am fitter for it. _Fab._ Do you live Sir? _Fred._ Yes, but 'twas time to counterfeit, he was grown To such a madness in his wine. _Fab._ 'Twas well Sir, You had that good respect unto his temper, That no worse follow'd. _Fred._ If I had stood him, certain one of us must have perish'd. How now _Frank_? _Fra._ Beshrew my heart I tremble like an aspin. _Clor._ Let him come here no more for Heavens sake Unless he be in chains. _Fra._ I would fain see him After he has slept, _Fabritio_, but to try How he will be; chide him, and bring him back. _Clor._ You'l never leave till you be worried with him. _Fra._ Come Brother, we'l walk in, and laugh a little To get this Fever off me. _Clor._ Hang him squib, Now could I grind him into priming powder. _Fra._ Pray will you leave your fooling? _Fab._ Come, all friends. _Fra._ Thou art enough to make an age of men so, Thou art so cross and peevish. _Fab._ I will chide him, And if he be not graceless, make him cry for't. _Clor._ I would go a mile (to see him cry) in slippers He would look so like a whey cheese. _Fra._ Would we might see him once more. _Fab._ If you dare Venture a second tryal of his temper I make no doubt to bring him.