Part 13

OR. I beseech your grace, though your eye be so piercing as under a poor blue coat[396] to cull out an honest father from an old serving-man, yet, good my lord, discover not the plot to any, but only this gentleman that is now to be an actor in our ensuing comedy. DUKE. Thou hast thy wish, Orlando, pass unknown; Sforza[397] shall only go along with thee, To see that warrant serv’d upon thy son. LOD. To attach him upon felony for two pedlars, is’t not so? OR. Right, my noble knight: those pedlars were two knaves of mine; he fleeced the men before, and now he purposes to flay the master. He will rob me; his teeth water to be nibbling at my gold; but this shall hang him by th’ gills till I pull him on shore. DUKE. Away; ply you the business. OR. Thanks to your grace: but, my good lord, for my daughter,—— DUKE. You know what I have said. OR. And remember what I have sworn: she’s more honest, on my soul, than one of the Turk’s wenches, watched by a hundred eunuchs. LOD. So she had need, for the Turks make them whores. OR. He’s a Turk that makes any woman a whore; he’s no true Christian I’m sure.—I commit [her to] your grace. DUKE. Infelice. INF. Here, sir. LOD. Signor Friscobaldo—— OR. Frisking again? Pacheco. LOD. Uds so, Pacheco; we’ll have some sport with this warrant: ’tis to apprehend all suspected persons in the house: besides, there’s one Bots a pander, and one madam Horseleech a bawd, that have abused my friend; those two conies will we ferret into the pursenet.[398] OR. Let me alone for dabbing them o’ th’ neck: come, come. LOD. Do ye hear, gallants? meet me anon at Matheo’s. CAR. } AST., _&c._ } Enough. [_Exeunt_ LODOVICO _and_ ORLANDO. DUKE. th’ old fellow sings that note thou didst before, Only his tunes are, that she is no whore, But that she sent his letters and his gifts Out of a noble triumph o’er his lust, To shew she trampled his assaults in dust. INF. ’Tis a good honest servant, that old man. DUKE. I doubt no less. INF. And it may be my husband, Because when once this woman was unmask’d, He levell’d all her thoughts, and made them fit, Now he’d mar all again, to try his wit. DUKE. It may be so too, for to turn a harlot Honest, it must be by strong antidotes; ’Tis rare, as to see panthers change their spots: And when she’s once a star fix’d and shines bright, Though 'twere impiety then to dim her light, Because we see such tapers seldom burn, Yet ’tis the pride and glory of some men To change her to a blazing star agen,[399] And it may be Hippolito does no more.— It cannot be but you’re acquainted all With that same madness of our son-in-law, That dotes so on a courtesan. ALL. Yes, my lord. CAR. All the city thinks he’s a whoremonger. AST. Yet I warrant he’ll swear no man marks him. BER. ’Tis like so; for when a man goes a wenching, is as if he had a strong stinking breath, every one smells him out, yet he feels it not, though it be ranker than the sweat of sixteen bearwarders. DUKE. I doubt then you have all those stinking breaths; You might be all smelt out.

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 abus’d 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 bewitch’d him, robb’d him of his shape, Turn’d 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. O, 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 dotes on Be in that muster-book[400] enroll’d, 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 whore[s]! AST. I’ll not miss that sessions. FON. Nor I. BER. Nor I, though I hold up my hand there myself. [_Exeunt._

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. OR. 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 consort.[401] OR. No, for she’s like a pair of virginals,[402] always with jacks at her tail.

_Enter_ ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

LOD. See, the covey is sprung. AST. } Save you, gallants. CAR., _&c._ } 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. } Yes, we know him all: what of him? CAR., _&c._ } 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,[403] dance, sing bawdy songs, or to run any bias according as we think good to cast him? 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. OR. 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. } How now? how now? FON. } CAR. What galley-foist[404] is this? LOD. Peace; two dishes of stewed prunes,[405] 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. 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._ } O brave! march fair. LOD. Are you come? that’s well. MAT. Here’s ordnance able to sack a city.[406] LOD. Come, repeat, read this inventory. FIRST V. _Imprimis_, a pottle of Greek wine, a pottle of Peter-sameene,[407] a pottle of Charnico,[408] and a pottle of Leatica.[409] LOD. You’re paid? SEC. V. Yes, sir. [_Exeunt Vintners._ MAT. So shall some of us be anon, I fear. BOTS. Here’s a hot day towards:[410] 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.[411] 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. } It’s hard, Bots, if we pepper not you, CAR., _&c._[412] } as well as you pepper us.

_Enter_ CANDIDO.

LOD. My noble linen-draper!—Some wine!—welcome, old lad! MAT. You’re welcome, signor. CAN. These lawns, sir? MAT. Presently; my man is gone for them. We ha’ rigged a fleet, you see, here, to sail about the world. CAN. A dangerous voyage, sailing in such ships. BOTS. There’s no casting overboard 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. CAN. 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._ CAN. 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. CAN. 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. } Swagger, and make him do’t AST., _&c._ } on his knees. CAN. How, Bots? now, bless me, what do I with Bots? No wine, in sooth, no wine, good master Bots. BOTS. Grey-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 marrow-bones, and pledge this health? ’tis to my mistress, a whore. CAN. 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. BOTS. Cap,[413] I’ll teach you.

CAN. To drink healths is to drink sickness.—Gentlemen, Pray rescue me. BOTS. Zounds, who dare? LOD. } AST., _&c._ } CAN. 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? CAN. The palsy, signors, danceth in my blood. BOTS. Pipe with a pox, sir, then, or I’ll make your blood dance—— CAN. Hold, hold, good master Bots, I drink. [_Kneels._[414] LOD. } AST., _&c._ } To whom? CAN. To the old countess there. [_Drinks._ MIS. H. To me, old boy?—This is he that never drunk wine!—Once again to’t. CAN. 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? OR. Yes, sir, for I make account to suffer to-day. MAT. Look, signor; here’s the commodity. CAN. Your price? MAT. Thus.[415] CAN. 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. CAN. Be it so, good signor; send me going. MAT. Going?—A deep bowl of wine for signor Candido! OR. He would be going. CAN. I’ll rather stay than go so: stop your bowl.

_Enter Constable and Billmen._[416] LOD. How now? BOTS. Is’t Shrove Tuesday,[417] that these ghosts walk? MAT. What’s your business, sir? CON. 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. OR. Yes, sir.—As shafts by piecing are made strong, So shall thy life be straighten’d by this wrong. [_Aside, and exit._ LOD. } In troth, we are sorry. AST., _&c._ } MAT. Brave men must be crost; 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. CON. If these gentlemen please, you shall go along with them. LOD. } Be’t so: come. AST., _&c._ } CON. 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. CON. Your name is Bots, is’t not? BOTS. Bots is my name; Bots is known to this company. CON. I know you are, sir.—What’s she? BOTS. A gentlewoman, my mother. CON. Take 'em both along. BOTS. Me, sir?[418] BILL. And, sir. CON. 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? CON. To Bridewell with 'em. BOTS. You will answer this. CON. Better than a challenge; I’ve warrant for my work, sir. LOD. We’ll go before. CON. Pray, do.— [_Exeunt_ MATHEO _with_ LOD., AST., CAR., BER. _and_ FONT.; BOTS _and_ MIS. H. _with Billmen_.

Who, signor Candido? a citizen Of your degree consorted thus, and revelling In such a house? CAN. Why, sir, what house, I pray? CON. Lewd, and defam’d. CAN. Is’t so? thanks, sir: I’m gone. CON. What have you there? CAN. Lawns which I bought, sir, of the gentleman That keeps the house. CON. And I have warrant here To search for such stoln ware: these lawns are stoln. CAN. Indeed! CON. So he’s the thief, you the receiver: I’m sorry for this chance, I must commit you. CAN. Me, sir? for what? CON. These goods are found upon you, And you must answer’t. CAN. Must I so? CON. Most certain. CAN. I’ll send for bail. CON. 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. CAN. To Bridewell too? CON. No remedy. CAN. Yes, patience: being not mad, They had me once to Bedlam: now I’m drawn To Bridewell, loving no whores. CON. You will buy lawn! [_Exeunt._

ACT V. SCENE I.

_A Street._

_Enter on one side_ HIPPOLITO, _on 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. } Save you, my lord. CAR., _&c._ } [_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 lime-bush. HIP. Ha! LOD. Your puritanical Honest Whore sits in a blue gown.[419] 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 that runs by Milan? the school where they pronounce no letter well but O? HIP. I know it not. LOD. Any man that has borne office of constable, or any woman[420] that has fallen from a horse-load to a cart-load, 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, There you may have her at your will, For there she beats chalk, or grinds in the mill,[421] With a whip, deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle. Ah, little monkey! HIP. What rogue durst serve that warrant, knowing I lov’d 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 arm’d fiends to guard the doors! [_Exit._ LOD. O 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._

SCENE II.

_An Apartment in Bridewell._

_Enter_ DUKE, INFELICE, CAROLO, ASTOLFO, BERALDO, FONTINELL, _and several Masters of Bridewell_.

DUKE. Your Bridewell?[422] 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. FIRST MAS. 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 warehouse, and endow’d it With lands to th’ value of seven hundred mark[s],[423] 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. 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 Employ’d in this your workhouse? FIRST MAS. War and peace Feed both upon those lands: when the iron doors Of war[424] burst open, from this house are sent Men furnish’d in all martial complement. The moon hath through her bow scarce drawn to th’ head, Like to twelve silver arrows, all the months, Since sixteen hundred soldiers went aboard. 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 tatter’d sides, Cast anchor here again, their ragged backs How often do we cover! that, like men, They may be sent to their own homes agen.[425] 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 lown Gets here hard hands or lac’d 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, and whore. CAR. An excellent team of horse! FIRST MAS. Nor is it seen That the whip draws blood here, to cool the spleen Of any rugged bencher, nor does offence Feel smart on[426] 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 fashion’d to some charitable use. DUKE. Thus wholesom’st laws spring from the worst abuse.

_Enter_ ORLANDO _disguised as a Serving-man, and_[427] BELLAFRONT.

BEL. 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? BEL. Matheo. DUKE. For a robbery? Where is he?[428] BEL. In this house. DUKE. Fetch you him hither.— [_Exeunt Second Master and_ BELLAFRONT. Is this the party? OR. 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? OR. My two pedlars are packed together, my good lord. DUKE. ’Tis well: this day in judgment shall be spent: Vice, like a wound lanc’d, 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. FIRST MAS. We’ll place you, lady, in some private room. INF. Pray do so. [_Exit with First Master, who presently returns._ OR. Thus nice dames swear, it is unfit their eyes Should view men carv’d up for anatomies,[429] Yet they’ll see all, so they may stand unseen: Many women sure will sin behind a screen.

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

LOD. Your son, the lord Hippolito, is enter’d. DUKE. Tell him we wish his presence. A word, Sforza;[430] 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 Second 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_.