Part 21

_Car._ Troth, my lord, I think we are all as you ha’ been in your youth when you went a-maying, we all love to hear the cuckoo sing upon other men’s trees.

_Duke._ It’s well; yet you confess. But, girl, thy bed Shall not be parted with a courtesan. ’Tis strange, No frown of mine, no frown of the poor lady, My abused child, his wife, no care of fame, Of honour, heaven, or hell, no not that name Of common strumpet, can affright, or woo him To abandon her; the harlot does undo him; She has bewitched him, robbed him of his shape, Turned him into a beast, his reason’s lost; You see he looks wild, does he not?

_Car._ I ha’ noted new moons In’s face, my lord, all full of change.

_Duke._ He’s no more like unto Hippolito, Than dead men are to living--never sleeps, Or if he do, it’s dreams: and in those dreams His arms work, and then cries, Sweet--what’s her name, What’s the drab’s name?

_Ast._ In troth, my lord, I know not, I know no drabs, not I.

_Duke._ Oh, Bellafront!-- And, catching her fast, cries, My Bellafront!

_Car._ A drench that’s able to kill a horse, cannot kill this disease of smock smelling, my lord, if it have once eaten deep.

_Duke._ I’ll try all physic, and this medicine first: I have directed warrants strong and peremptory To purge our city Milan, and to cure The outward parts, the suburbs, for the attaching Of all those women, who like gold want weight, Cities, like ships, should have no idle freight.

_Car._ No, my lord, and light wenches are no idle freight; but what’s your grace’s reach in this?

_Duke._ This, Carolo. If she whom my son doats on, Be in that muster-book enrolled, he’ll shame Ever t’approach one of such noted name.

_Car._ But say she be not?

_Duke._ Yet on harlots’ heads New laws shall fall so heavy, and such blows shall Give to those that haunt them, that Hippolito If not for fear of law, for love to her, If he love truly, shall her bed forbear.

_Car._ Attach all the light heels i’th’ city, and clap ’em up? why, my lord, you dive into a well unsearchable: all the whores within the walls, and without the walls? I would not be he should meddle with them for ten such dukedoms; the army that you speak on is able to fill all the prisons within this city, and to leave not a drinking room in any tavern besides.

_Duke._ Those only shall be caught that are of note; Harlots in each street flow: The fish being thus i’th net, ourself will sit, And with eye most severe dispose of it. Come, girl. [_Exeunt_ DUKE _and_ INFELICE.

_Car._ Arraign the poor whores!

_Ast._ I’ll not miss that sessions.

_Font._ Nor I.

_Ber._ Nor I, though I hold up my hand there myself. [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

## SCENE III.--_A Room in_ MATHEO’S _House_.

_Enter_ MATHEO, LODOVICO, _and_ ORLANDO _disguised as a ~Serving-man~_.

_Mat._ Let who will come, my noble chevalier, I can but play the kind host, and bid ’em welcome.

_Lod._ We’ll trouble your house, Matheo, but as Dutchmen do in taverns, drink, be merry, and be gone.

_Orl._ Indeed, if you be right Dutchmen, if you fall to drinking, you must be gone.

_Mat._ The worst is, my wife is not at home; but we’ll fly high, my generous knight, for all that: there’s no music when a woman is in the concert.

_Orl._ No; for she’s like a pair of virginals, Always with jacks at her tail.

_Enter_ ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO _and_ FONTINELL.

_Lod._ See, the covey is sprung.

_Ast._, _Car._, _&c._ Save you, gallants.

_Mat._ Happily encountered, sweet bloods.

_Lod._ Gentlemen, you all know Signor Candido, the linen-draper, he that’s more patient than a brown baker, upon the day when he heats his oven, and has forty scolds about him.

_Ast._, _Car._, _&c._ Yes, we know him all, what of him?

_Lod._ Would it not be a good fit of mirth, to make a piece of English cloth of him, and to stretch him on the tenters, till the threads of his own natural humour crack, by making him drink healths, tobacco,[293] dance, sing bawdy songs, or to run any bias according as we think good to cast him?

[293] To drink tobacco was a common phrase for smoking it.--_Reed._

_Car._ ’Twere a morris-dance worth the seeing.

_Ast._ But the old fox is so crafty, we shall hardly hunt him out of his den.

_Mat._ To that train I ha’ given fire already; and the hook to draw him hither, is to see certain pieces of lawn, which I told him I have to sell, and indeed have such; fetch them down, Pacheco.

_Orl._ Yes, sir, I’m your water-spaniel, and will fetch any thing--but I’ll fetch one dish of meat anon shall turn your stomach, and that’s a constable. [_Aside and exit._

_Enter_ BOTS _ushering in ~Mistress~_ HORSELEECH.

_Ast._, _Ber._, _Fon._ How now? how now?

_Car._ What gally-foist[294] is this?

[294] A long barge with oars.

_Lod._ Peace, two dishes of stewed prunes,[295] a bawd and a pander. My worthy lieutenant Bots; why, now I see thou’rt a man of thy word, welcome.--Welcome Mistress Horseleech: pray, gentlemen, salute this reverend matron.

[295] A common dish in the brothels of the time.

_Mis. H._ Thanks to all your worships.

_Lod._ I bade a drawer send in wine, too: did none come along with thee, grannam, but the lieutenant?

_Mis. H._ None came along with me but Bots, if it like your worship.

_Bots._ Who the pox should come along with you but Bots.

_Enter two ~Vintners~ with wine._

_Ast._, _Car._, _&c._ Oh brave! march fair.

_Lod._ Are you come? that’s well.

_Mat._ Here’s ordnance able to sack a city.

_Lod._ Come, repeat, read this inventory.

_1st Vint._ _Imprimis_, a pottle of Greek wine, a pottle of Peter-sameene,[296] a pottle of Charnico,[297] and a pottle of Leatica.[298]

[296] A corruption of Pedro Ximenes, a sweet Spanish wine, so called from the grape of that name.

[297] A sweet Portuguese wine from the neighbourhood of Lisbon.

[298] _i.e._ Aleatico, a red Italian muscatel wine with a rich aromatic flavour.

_Lod._ You’re paid?

_2nd Vint._ Yes, Sir. [_Exeunt ~Vintners~._

_Mat._ So shall some of us be anon, I fear.

_Bots._ Here’s a hot day towards: but zounds, this is the life out of which a soldier sucks sweetness! when this artillery goes off roundly, some must drop to the ground: cannon, demi-cannon, saker, and basilisk.[299]

[299] The saker and basilisk were both pieces of ordnance.

_Lod._ Give fire, lieutenant.

_Bots._ So, so: Must I venture first upon the breach? to you all, gallants: Bots sets upon you all. [_Drinks._

_Ast._, _Car._, _&c._ It’s hard, Bots, if we pepper not you, as well as you pepper us.

_Enter_ CANDIDO.

_Lod._ My noble linen-draper!--some wine!--Welcome old lad!

_Mat._ You’re welcome, signor.

_Cand._ These lawns, sir?

_Mat._ Presently; my man is gone for them: we ha’ rigged a fleet, you see here, to sail about the world.

_Cand._ A dangerous voyage, sailing in such ships.

_Bots._ There’s no casting over board yet.

_Lod._ Because you are an old lady, I will have you be acquainted with this grave citizen, pray bestow your lips upon him, and bid him welcome.

_Mis. H._ Any citizen shall be most welcome to me:--I have used to buy ware at your shop.

_Cand._ It may be so, good madam.

_Mis. H._ Your prentices know my dealings well; I trust your good wife be in good case: if it please you, bear her a token from my lips, by word of mouth. [_Kisses him._

_Cand._ I pray no more; forsooth, ’tis very well, Indeed I love no sweetmeats:--Sh’as a breath Stinks worse than fifty polecats. [_Aside._] Sir, a word, Is she a lady?

_Lod._ A woman of a good house, and an ancient, she’s a bawd.

_Cand._ A bawd? Sir, I’ll steal hence, and see your lawns Some other time.

_Mat._ Steal out of such company? Pacheco, my man is but gone for ’em: Lieutenant Bots, drink to this worthy old fellow, and teach him to fly high.

_Lod._, _Ast._, _&c._ Swagger: and make him do’t on his knees.

_Cand._ How, Bots? now bless me, what do I with Bots? No wine in sooth, no wine, good Master Bots.

_Bots._ Gray-beard, goat’s pizzle: ’tis a health, have this in your guts, or this, there [_Touching his sword._] I will sing a bawdy song, sir, because your verjuice face is melancholy, to make liquor go down glib. Will you fall on your marrowbones, and pledge this health? ’Tis to my mistress, a whore.

_Cand._ Here’s ratsbane upon ratsbane, Master Bots; I pray, sir, pardon me: you are a soldier, Press me not to this service, I am old, And shoot not in such pot-guns.[300]

[300] A play upon “pop-guns.”

_Bots._ Cap. I’ll teach you.

_Cand._ To drink healths, is to drink sickness--gentlemen. Pray rescue me.

_Bots._ Zounds, who dare?

_Lod._, _Ast._, _&c._ We shall ha’ stabbing then?

_Cand._ I ha’ reckonings to cast up, good Master Bots.

_Bots._ This will make you cast ’em up better.

_Lod._ Why does your hand shake so?

_Cand._ The palsy, signor, danceth in my blood.

_Bots._ Pipe with a pox, sir, then, or I’ll make your blood dance--

_Cand._ Hold, hold, good Master Bots, I drink. [_Kneels._[301]

[301] It was a common custom to kneel when drinking a health, especially the health of a superior.

_Ast._, _Lod._, _&c._ To whom?

_Cand._ To the old countess there. [_Drinks._

_Mis. H._ To me, old boy? this is he that never drunk wine! Once again to’t.

_Cand._ With much ado the poison is got down, Though I can scarce get up; never before Drank I a whore’s health, nor will never more.

_Re-enter_ ORLANDO _with lawns_.

_Mat._ Hast been at gallows?

_Orl._ Yes, sir, for I make account to suffer to day.

_Mat._ Look, signor; here’s the commodity.

_Cand._ Your price?

_Mat._ Thus.[302]

[302] The price was here probably indicated by displaying the fingers.

_Cand._ No: too dear: thus.

_Mat._ No: O fie, you must fly higher: yet take ’em home, trifles shall not make us quarrel, we’ll agree, you shall have them, and a pennyworth; I’ll fetch money at your shop.

_Cand._ Be it so, good signor, send me going.

_Mat._ Going? a deep bowl of wine for Signor Candido.

_Orl._ He would be going.

_Cand._ I’ll rather stay than go so: stop your bowl.

_Enter ~Constable~ and ~Billmen~._

_Lod._ How now?

_Bots._ Is’t Shrove-Tuesday, that these ghosts walk?[303]

[303] On Shrove Tuesday the authorities made a search for brothel-keepers, and on the same day the London apprentices went about wrecking houses of ill-fame.

_Mat._ What’s your business, sir?

_Const._ From the duke: you are the man we look for, signor. I have warrant here from the duke, to apprehend you upon felony for robbing two pedlars: I charge you i’th’ duke’s name go quickly.

_Mat._ Is the wind turned? Well: this is that old wolf, my father-in-law:--seek out your mistress, sirrah.

_Orl._ Yes, Sir,--as shafts by piecing are made strong, So shall thy life be straightened by this wrong. [_Aside and exit._

_Lod._, _Ast._, _&c._ In troth, we are sorry.

_Mat._ Brave men must be crossed; pish, it’s but fortune’s dice roving against me. Come, sir, pray use me like a gentleman; let me not be carried through the streets like a pageant.

_Const._ If these gentlemen please, you shall go along with them.

_Lod._, _Ast._, _&c._ Be’t so: come.

_Const._ What are you, sir?

_Bots._ I, sir? sometimes a figure, sometimes a cipher, as the State has occasion to cast up her accounts: I’m a soldier.

_Const._ Your name is Bots, is’t not?

_Bots._ Bots is my name; Bots is known to this company.

_Const._ I know you are, sir: what’s she?

_Bots._ A gentlewoman, my mother.

_Const._ Take ’em both along.

_Bots._ Me, sir?

_Billmen._ Ay, sir!

_Const._ If he swagger, raise the street.

_Bots._ Gentlemen, gentlemen, whither will you drag us?

_Lod._ To the garden house. Bots, are we even with you?

_Const._ To Bridewell with ’em.

_Bots._ You will answer this.

_Const._ Better than a challenge. I’ve warrant for my work, sir.

_Lod._ We’ll go before.

_Const._ Pray do.--

[_Exeunt_ MATHEO _with_ LODOVICO, ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL; BOTS _and ~Mistress~_ HORSELEECH, _with_ BILLMEN.

Who, Signor Candido? a citizen Of your degree consorted thus, and revelling In such a house?

_Cand._ Why, sir? what house, I pray?

_Const._ Lewd, and defamed.

_Cand._ Is’t so? thanks, sir: I’m gone.

_Const._ What have you there?

_Cand._ Lawns which I bought, sir, of the gentleman that keeps the house.

_Const._ And I have warrant here, To search for such stol’n ware: these lawns are stol’n.

_Cand._ Indeed!

_Const._ So he’s the thief, you the receiver: I’m sorry for this chance, I must commit you.

_Cand._ Me, sir, for what?

_Const._ These goods are found upon you, And you must answer’t.

_Cand._ Must I so?

_Const._ Most certain.

_Cand._ I’ll send for bail.

_Const._ I dare not: yet because You are a citizen of worth, you shall not Be made a pointing stock, but without guard, Pass only with myself.

_Cand._ To Bridewell too?

_Const._ No remedy.

_Cand._ Yes, patience: being not mad, They had me once to Bedlam, now I’m drawn To Bridewell, loving no whores.

_Const._ You will buy lawn! [_Exeunt._

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

ACT THE FIFTH.

## SCENE I.--_A Street._

_Enter at one side_ HIPPOLITO; _at the other_, LODOVICO, ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO _and_ FONTINELL.

LOD. Yonder’s the Lord Hippolito; by any means leave him and me together; now will I turn him to a madman.

_Ast._, _Car._, _&c._ Save you my lord.

[_Exeunt all except_ HIPPOLITO _and_ LODOVICO.

_Lod._ I ha’ strange news to tell you.

_Hip._ What are they?

_Lod._ Your mare’s i’th’ pound.

_Hip._ How’s this?

_Lod._ Your nightingale is in a limebush.

_Hip._ Ha?

_Lod._ Your puritanical honest whore sits in a blue gown.[304]

[304] It was in a blue gown that strumpets had to do penance.

_Hip._ Blue gown!

_Lod._ She’ll chalk out your way to her now: she beats chalk.

_Hip._ Where? who dares?--

_Lod._ Do you know the brick-house of castigation, by the river side[305] that runs by Milan,--the school where they pronounce no letter well but O?

[305] Meaning Bridewell, where loose women were whipped.

_Hip._ I know it not.

_Lod._ Any man that has borne office of constable, or any woman that has fallen from a horse-load to a cart-load,[306] or like an old hen that has had none but rotten eggs in her nest, can direct you to her: there you shall see your punk amongst her back-friends.

[306] An allusion to the carting of prostitutes, who were at the same time pelted by the populace with rotten eggs.

There you may have her at your will, For there she beats chalk, or grinds in the mill[307] With a whip deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle; Ah little monkey.

[307] Breaking chalk, grinding in mills, raising sand and gravel and making of lime were among the employments assigned to vagrants and others committed to Bridewell.--_Reed._

_Hip._ What rogue durst serve that warrant, knowing I loved her?

_Lod._ Some worshipful rascal, I lay my life.

_Hip._ I’ll beat the lodgings down about their ears That are her keepers.

_Lod._ So you may bring an old house over her head.

_Hip_. I’ll to her-- I’ll to her, stood armed fiends to guard the doors. [_Exit._

_Lod._ Oh me! what monsters are men made by whores! If this false fire do kindle him, there’s one faggot More to the bonfire. Now to my Bridewell birds; What song will they sing? [_Exit._

[Illustration]

## SCENE II.--_An Apartment in Bridewell._

_Enter_ DUKE, INFELICE, CAROLO, ASTOLFO, BERALDO, FONTINELL, _and several ~Masters of Bridewell~_.

_Duke._ Your Bridewell? that the name? for beauty, strength, Capacity and form of ancient building, Besides the river’s neighbourhood, few houses Wherein we keep our court can better it.

_1st Mast._ Hither from foreign courts have princes come, And with our duke did acts of State commence, Here that great cardinal had first audience, The grave Campayne; that duke dead, his son That famous prince gave free possession Of this, his palace, to the citizens, To be the poor man’s ware-house; and endowed it With lands to the value of seven hundred marks,[308] With all the bedding and the furniture, once proper, As the lands then were, to an hospital Belonging to a Duke of Savoy. Thus Fortune can toss the world; a prince’s court Is thus a prison now.

[308] This and the subsequent allusions to the Bridewell of Milan, of course, really have reference to the London Bridewell. In the reign of Henry VIII. princes were lodged there, and it was there that Cardinal Campeius had his first audience of the king. After Henry’s death, Edward VI. gave the palace to the citizens. It was moreover endowed with land belonging to the Savoy to the amount of 700 marks a year and the bedding and furniture of this hospital were bestowed upon it.

_Duke._ ’Tis Fortune’s sport: These changes common are: the wheel of fate Turns kingdoms up, till they fall desolate. But how are these seven hundred marks by th’ year Employed in this your work-house?

_1st Mast._ War and peace Feed both upon those lands: when the iron doors Of war burst open, from this house are sent Men furnished in all martial complement. The moon hath thorough her bow scarce drawn to th’ head, Like to twelve silver arrows, all the months, Since sixteen hundred soldiers went abroad. Here providence and charity play such parts, The house is like a very school of arts, For when our soldiers, like ships driven from sea, With ribs all broken, and with tattered sides, Cast anchor here again, their ragged backs How often do we cover! that, like men, They may be sent to their own homes again. All here are but one swarm of bees, and strive To bring with wearied thighs honey to the hive. The sturdy beggar, and the lazy loon, Gets here hard hands, or laced correction. The vagabond grows staid, and learns t’obey, The drone is beaten well, and sent away. As other prisons are, some for the thief, Some, by which undone credit gets relief From bridled debtors; others for the poor, So this is for the bawd, the rogue, the whore.

_Car._ An excellent team of horse!

_1st Mast._ Nor is it seen That the whip draws blood here, to cool the spleen Of any rugged bencher; nor does offence Feel smart on spiteful, or rash evidence: But pregnant testimony forth must stand, Ere justice leave them in the beadle’s hand, As iron, on the anvil are they laid, Not to take blows alone, but to be made And fashioned to some charitable use.

_Duke._ Thus wholsom’st laws spring from the worst abuse.

_Enter_ ORLANDO, _disguised as a ~Serving-man~, and_ BELLAFRONT.

_Bell._ Let mercy touch your heart-strings, gracious lord, That it may sound like music in the ear Of a man desperate, being i’th’ hands of law.

_Duke._ His name?

_Bell._ Matheo.

_Duke._ For a robbery? where is he?

_Bell._ In this house. [_Exeunt_ BELLAFRONT _and ~2nd Master~_.

_Duke._ Fetch you him hither--Is this the party?

_Orl._ This is the hen, my lord, that the cock with the lordly comb, your son-in-law, would crow over, and tread.

_Duke._ Are your two servants ready?

_Orl._ My two pedlars are packed together, my good lord.

_Duke._ ’Tis well: this day in judgment shall be spent: Vice, like a wound lanced, mends by punishment.

_Inf._ Let me be gone, my lord, or stand unseen; ’Tis rare when a judge strikes, and that none die, And ’tis unfit then women should be by.

_1st Mast._ We’ll place you, lady, in some private room.

_Inf._ Pray do so. [_Exit with ~1st Master~, who returns alone._

_Orl._ Thus nice dames swear, it is unfit their eyes Should view men carved up for anatomies,[309] Yet they’ll see all, so they may stand unseen; Many women sure will sin behind a screen.

[309] _i.e._ Skeletons.

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

_Lod._ Your son, the Lord Hippolito, is entered.

_Duke._ Tell him we wish his presence. A word, Sforza; On what wings flew he hither?

_Lod._ These--I told him his lark whom he loved, was a Bridewell-bird; he’s mad that this cage should hold her, and is come to let her out.

_Duke._ ’Tis excellent: away, go call him hither. [_Exit_ LODOVICO.

_Re-enter on one side ~2nd Master~ and_ BELLAFRONT _with_ MATHEO, _and ~Constable~_; _on the other_, LODOVICO _with_ HIPPOLITO. ORLANDO _goes out, and returns with two of his ~Servants~ disguised as ~Pedlars~_.

_Duke._ You are to us a stranger, worthy lord, ’Tis strange to see you here.

_Hip._ It is most fit, That where the sun goes, atomies[310] follow it.

[310] Atoms.

_Duke._ Atomies neither shape, nor honour bear: Be you yourself, a sunbeam to shine clear.-- Is this the gentleman? Stand forth and hear Your accusation.

_Mat._ I’ll hear none: I fly high in that: rather than kites shall seize upon me, and pick out mine eyes to my face, I’ll strike my talons through mine own heart first, and spit my blood in theirs. I am here for shriving those two fools of their sinful pack: when those jackdaws have cawed over me, then must I cry guilty, or not guilty; the law has work enough already and therefore I’ll put no work of mine into his hands; the hangman shall ha’t first; I did pluck those ganders, did rob them.

_Duke._ ’Tis well done to confess.

_Mat._ Confess and be hanged, and then I fly high, is’t not so? That for that; a gallows is the worst rub that a good bowler can meet with; I stumbled against such a post, else this night I had played the part of a true son in these days, undone my father-in-law; with him would I ha’ run at leap-frog, and come over his gold, though I had broke his neck for’t: but the poor salmon-trout is now in the net.

_Hip._ And now the law must teach you to fly high.

_Mat._ Right, my lord, and then may you fly low; no more words:--a mouse, mum, you are stopped.

_Bell._ Be good to my poor husband, dear my lords.

_Mat._ Ass! Why shouldst thou pray them to be good to me, When no man here is good to one another?

_Duke._ Did any hand work in this theft but yours?

_Mat._ O, yes, my lord, yes:--the hangman has never one son at a birth, his children always come by couples: though I cannot give the old dog, my father, a bone to gnaw, the daughter shall be sure of a choke-pear.[311] Yes, my lord, there was one more that fiddled my fine pedlars, and that was my wife.

[311] Slang term for a small copper coin.

_Bell._ Alas, I?

_Orl._ O everlasting, supernatural superlative villain! [_Aside._

_Duke_, _Lod._, _&c._ Your wife, Matheo?

_Hip._ Sure it cannot be.

_Mat._ Oh, sir, you love no quarters of mutton that hang up, you love none but whole mutton. She set the robbery, I performed it; she spurred me on, I galloped away.

_Orl._ My lords,--

_Bell._ My lords,--fellow, give me speech,--if my poor life May ransom thine, I yield it to the law, Thou hurt’st thy soul, yet wip’st off no offence, By casting blots upon my innocence: Let not these spare me, but tell truth: no, see Who slips his neck out of the misery, Though not out of the mischief: let thy servant That shared in this base act, accuse me here, Why should my husband perish, he go clear?

_Orl._ A good child, hang thine own father! [_Aside._