THE Honest Whore, With, The Humours of the Patient Man, and the Longing Wife. Tho. Dekker.  
LONDON, Printed by Nicholas Okes for Robert Basse, and are to be sold at his shop under S. Butolphes Church without Aldersgate. 1616.   
The Honest Whore  

ACTVS PRIMVS.  
SCAENA PRIMA.  Enter at one door a Funeral, a Coronet lying on the Hearse, Scutcheons and Garlands hanging on the sides, attended by Gasparo Trebatzi, Duke of Millan, Castruchio, Sinezi. Pioratto Fluello, and others at another door. Enter Hipolito in discontented appearance: Matheo a Gentleman his friend, labouring to hold him back. Duke 
BEhold, yond comet shows his head again;  
Twice hath he thus at cross-turns thrown on us  
Prodigious looks: Twice hath he troubled  
The waters of our eyes. See, he's turned wild;  
Go on in God's name.  All 
On afore there ho.  Duke 
Kinsmen and friends, take from your manly sides  
Your weapons to keep back the desperate boy  
From doing violence to the innocent dead.  Hipolito 
I pry thee dear Matheo.  Matheo 
Come, you're mad.  Hip: 
I do arrest thee murderer: set down.  
villains set down that sorrow, 'tis all mine.  Duke 
I do beseech you all, for my blood's sake  
Send hence your milder spirits, and let wrath  
join in confederacy with your weapons points;  
If he proceeds to vex us, let your sword  
Seek out his bowels: funeral grief loathes words.  All 
Set on.  Hip. 
Set down the body.  Mat: 
O my Lord?  
You're wrong: i'th' open street? you see she's dead.  Hip: 
I know she is not dead.  Duke 
Frantic young man,  
Wilt thou believe these gentlemen? pray speak:  
Thou dost abuse my child, and mockest the tears  
That here are shed for her: If to behold  
Those roses withered, that set out her cheeks:  
That pair of stars that gave her body light,  
Darkened and dim for ever: All those rivers  
That fed her veins with warm and crimson streams,  
Frozen and dried up: If these be signs of death,  
Then is she dead. Thou unreligious youth,  
Art not ashamed to empty all these eyes  
Of funeral tears, (a debt due to the dead,)  
As mirth is to the living: Sham'st thou not  
To have them stare on thee? hark, thou art cursed  
Even to thy face, by those that scarce can speak.  Hip. 
My Lord.  Duke 
What wouldst thou have? is she not dead?  Hip. 
Oh, you ha' killed her by your cruelty.  Duke 
Admit I had, thou killst her now again;  
And art more savage than a barbarous moor.  Hip. 
Let me but kiss her pale and bloodless lip.  Duke 
O fie, fie, fie.  Hip. 
Or if not touch her, let me look on her.  Math. 
As you regard your honour.  Hip. 
Honour! smoke.  Math. 
Or if you loved her living, spare her now.  Duke 
ay, well done sir, you play the gentleman:  
Steal hence: 'tis nobly done: away: I'll join  
My force to yours, to stop this violent torment:  
Pass on. Exeunt with funeral.  Hip. 
Matheo, thou dost wound me more.  Math. 
I give you physic noble friend, not wounds,  Duke 
Oh well said, well done, a true gentleman:  
Alack, I know the sea of lover's rage  
Comes rushing with so strong a tide: it beats  
And bears down all respects of life, of honour,  
Of friends, of foes, forget her gallant youth.  Hip. 
Forget her?  Duke 
nam, na, be but patient:  
For why death's hand hath sued a strict divorce  
Twixt her and thee: what's beauty but a corpse?  
What but fair sand-dust are earth's purest forms:  
Queens bodies are but trunks to put in worms.  Mathew 
Speak no more sentences, my good lord, but slip hence; you see they are but fits, i'll rule him I warrant ye. ay, so, tread gingerly, your Grace is here somewhat too long already. 'sblood the jest were now, if having ta'en some knocks o'th' pate already, he should get loose again, and like a mad Ox, toss my new black cloaks into the kennel. I must humour his lordship: my lord Hipolito, is it in your stomach to go to dinner?  Hipolito 
Where is the body?  Matheo 
The body, as the Duke spoke very wisely, is gone to be wormed.  Hipolito 
I cannot rest, i'll meet it at next turn,  
I'll see how my love looks, Mathaeo holds him in's arms  Mathaeo 
How your love looks? worse than a scarecrow, wrestle not with me: the great fellow gives the fall for a ducat.  Hipolito 
I shall forget myself.  Mathaeo 
Pray do so, leave yourself behind yourself, and go whither you will. 'sfoot, do you long to have base rogues that maintain a saint Anthony's fire in their noses (by nothing but two penny Ale) make ballads of you? if the Duke had but so much mettle in him, as is in a cobblers awl, he would ha' been a vexed thing: he and his train had blown you up, but that their powder has taken the wet of cowards: you'll bleed three pottles of Aligant, by this light, if you follow 'em, and then we shall have a hole made in a wrong place, to have Surgeons roll thee up like a baby in swaddling clouts.  Hipolito 
What day is today, Mathaeo?  Mathaeo 
Yea mary, this is an easy question: why today is, let me see, Thursday.  Hipolito 
Oh, Thursday.  Mathaeo 
here's a coil for a dead commodity, 'sfoot women when they are alive are but dead commodities, for you shall have one woman lie upon many men's hands.  Hipolito 
she died on monday then.  Mathaeo 
And that's the most villainous day of all the week to die in: and she was well, and eat a mess of water-gruel on monday morning.  Hipolito 
ay, it cannot be,  
Such a bright taper should burn out so soon.  Mathaeo 
O yes my Lord, so soon: why I ha' known them, that at dinner have been as well, and had so much health, that they were glad to pledge it, yet before three o'clock have been found dead drunk.  Hipolito 
On Thursday buried! and on monday died,  
Quick haste by’r lady: sure her winding sheet  
Was laid out fore her body, and the worms  
That now must feast with her, were even bespoke,  
And solemnly invited like strange guests.  Mathaeo 
Strange feeders they are indeed my lord, and like your jester or young Courtier, will enter upon any man's trencher without bidding.  Hipolito 
Cursed be that day for ever that robbed her  
Of breath, and me of bliss, henceforth let it stand  
Within the Wizard's book (the calendar)  
Marked with a marginal finger, to be chosen  
By thieves, by villains, and black murderers,  
As the best day for them to labour in.  
If henceforth this adulterous bawdy world  
Be got with child with treason, sacrilege,  
Atheism, rapes, treacherous friendship, perjury,  
Slander, (the beggar's sin) lies, (sin of fools)  
Or any other damned impieties,  
On Monday let 'em be delivered:  
I swear to thee Mathaeo, by my soul.  
Hereafter weekly on that day i'll glue  
Mine eyelids down, because they shall not gaze  
On any female cheek. And being locked up  
In my close chamber, there i'll meditate  
On nothing but my Infaelice's end,  
Or on a dead man's skull draw out mine own.  Mathaeo 
You'll do all these good works now every monday, because it is so bad: but I hope upon tuesday morning I shall take you with a wench.  Hipolito 
If ever whilst frail blood through my veins run,  
On woman's beams I throw affection,  
Save her that's dead: or that I loosely fly  
Toth' shore of any other wafting eye,  
Let me not prosper heaven. I will be true,  
Even to her dust and ashes: could her tomb  
Stand whilst I lived so long, that it might rot,  
That should fall down, but she be ne'er forgot.  Mathaeo 
If you have this strange monster, Honesty, in your belly, why so jig-makers and chroniclers shall pick something out of you: but and I smell not you and a bawdy house out within these ten days, let my nose be as big as an English bag-pudding: I'll follow your lordship, though it be to the place aforenamed. Exeunt.  Enter Fustigo in some fantastic Sea-suite at one door, a Porter meets him at another. Fust. 
How now porter, will she come?  Porter 
If I may trust a woman sir, she will come.  Fust. 
There's for thy pains, godamercy, if ever I stand in need of a wench that will come with a wet finger, Porter, thou shalt earn my money before any Clarissimo in Milan; yet so god sa me she's mine own sister body and soul, as I am a christian Gentleman; farewell, i'll ponder till she come: thou hast been no bawd in fetching this woman, I assure thee.  Porter 
No matter if I had sir, better men than Porters are bawds.  Fust. 
O God sir, many that have borne offices. But Porter, art sure thou went'st into a true house?  Porter 
I think so, for I met with no thieves.  Fust. 
Nay but art sure it was my sister Viola.  Porter 
I am sure by all superscriptions it was the party you ciphered.  Fust. 
Not very tall.  Porter 
Nor very low, a middling woman.  Fust. 
'twas she faith, 'twas she, a pretty plump cheek like mine.  Porter 
At a blush, a little very much like you.  Fust. 
God's so, I would not for a ducat she had kicked up her heels, for I ha' spent an abomination this voyage, marry I did it amongst sailors and gentlemen: there's a little modicum more porter for making thee stay, farewell honest porter.  Porter 
I am in your debt sir, God preserve you. Exit.  Enter Viola. Fu. 
Not so neither, good porter, God's lid, yonder she comes. Sister Viola, I am glad to see you stirring: it's news to have me here, be't not sister?  Viola 
Yes trust me: I wondered who should be so bold to send for me, you are welcome to Milan brother.  Fust. 
Troth sister I heard you were married to a very rich chuff, and I was very sorry for it, that I had no better clothes, and that made me send: for you know we milliners love to strut upon Spanish leather. And how does all our friends?  Viola 
Very well; you ha' traveled enough now, I trow, to sow your wild oats.  Fust. 
A pox on 'em; wild oats, I ha' not an oat to throw at a horse, troth sister I ha' sowed my oats, and reaped 200. ducats if I had 'em, here, mary I must entreat you to lend me some thirty or forty till the ship come, by this hand i'll discharge at my day, by this hand.  Viola 
These are your old oaths.  Fust. 
Why sister, do you think i'll forswear my hand?  Viola 
Well, well, you shall have them: put yourself into better fashion, because I must employ you in a serious matter.  Fust. 
I'll swear like a horse if I like the matter.  Viola 
You ha' cast off all your old swaggering humours.  Fust. 
I had not sailed a league in that great fishpond (the sea) but I cast up my very gall.  Viola 
I am the more sorry, for I must employ a true swaggerer.  Fust. 
Nay by this iron sister, they shall find I am powder and touchbox, if they put fire once into me.  Viola 
Then lend me your ears.  Fust. 
Mine ears are yours dear sister.  Viola 
I am married to a man that has wealth enough, and wit enough.  Fust. 
A linen Draper I was told sister.  Viola 
Very true, a grave Citizen; I want nothing that a wife can wish from a husband: but here's the spite, he has not all things belonging to a man.  Fust. 
God's my life, he's a very mandrake, or else (God bless us) one a these whiblins, and that's worse, and then all the children that he gets lawfully of your body sister, are bastards by a statute.  Vio: 
O you run over me too fast brother, I have heard it often said, that he who cannot be angry, is no man. I am sure my husband is a man in print, for all things else, save only in this, no tempest can move him.  Fist. 
'Slid, would he had been at sea with us, he should ha' been moved and moved again, for I'll be sworn la, our drunken ship reeled like a Dutchman.  Viola 
No loss of goods can increase in him a wrinkle, no crabbed language make his countenance sour, the stubbornness of no servant shake him, he has no more gall in him than a Dove, no more sting than an Ant: physician will he never be, (yet I find much music in him,) but he loves no frets, and is so free from anger, that many times I am ready to bite off my tongue, because it wants that virtue which all women's tongues have (to anger their husbands:) Brother, mine can by no thunder: turn him into a sharpness.  Fust. 
Belike his blood sister, is well brewed then.  Viola 
I protest to thee Fustigo, I love him most affectionately, but I know not— I ha' such a tickling within me— such a strange longing; nay, verily I do long.  Fustigo 
Then you're with child sister, by all signs and tokens; nay, I am partly a Physician, and partly something else. I ha' read Albertus Magnus, and Aristotle's emblems.  Viola 
You're wide ath bow hand still brother: my longings are not wanton, but wayward: I long to have my patient husband eat up a whole Porcupine, to the intent, the bristling quills may stick about his lips like a flemish, mustacho, and be shot at me: I shall be leaner than the new Moon, unless I can make him borne mad.  Fust: 
'sfoot half a quarter of an hour does that: make him a cuckold.  Viola 
Puh, he would count such a cut no unkindness.  Fust. 
The honester Citizen he, then make him drunk and cut off his beard.  Viola 
Fie, fie, idle, idle, he's no Frenchman, to fret at the loss of a little scald hair. No brother, thus it shall be, you must be secret.  Fu. 
As your Midwife I protest sister, or a Barber-surgeon.  Viola 
Repair to the tortoise here in S. Christopher's street, I will send you money, turn yourself into a brave man: instead of the arms of your mistress, let your sword and your military scarf hang about your neck.  Fust: 
I must have a great Horseman's French feather too sister.  Viola 
O, by any means, to show your light head, else your hat will sit like a coxcomb: to be brief, you must be in all points a most terrible wide-mouthed swaggerer.  Fust. 
Nay, for swaggering points let me alone.  Viola 
Resort then to our shop, and (in my husband's presence) kiss me, snatch rings, jewels, or any things so you give it back again brother in secret.  Fust: 
By this hand sister.  Viola 
Swear as if you came but new from knighting.  Fust. 
Nay, I'll swear after 400. a year.  Viola 
Swagger worse than a Lieutenant among freshwater soldiers, call me your love, your ingle, your cousin, or so; but sister at no hand.  Fust. 
No, no, It shall be cousin, or rather coz, that's the gulling word between the citizens wives & their old dames, that man 'em to the garden; to call you one a mine ants, sister, were as good as call you arrant whores no, no, let me alone to cozen you rarely.  Viola 
has heard I have a brother, but never saw him, therefore put on a good face.  Fust. 
The best in Milan I warrant.  Viola 
Take up wares, but pay nothing, rifle my bosom, my pocket, my purse, the boxes for money to dice with all; but brother, you must give all back again in secret.  Fustigo 
By this welkin that here roars? I will, or else let me never know what a secret is: why sister do you think I'll coney-catch you, when you are my cousin? God's my life, than I were a stark Ass, if I fret not his guts, beg me for a fool.  Viola 
Be circumspect, and do so then, farewell.  Fust. 
The tortoise sister? I'll stay there; forty ducats. Exit.  Viola 
Thither I'll send: this law can none deny,  
Women must have their longings, or they die. Exit.  Gasparo the Duke, Doctor Benedick, two servants. Duke 
Give charge that none do enter, lock the doors;  
And fellows, what your eyes and ears receive,  
Upon your lives trust not the gadding air  
To carry the least part of it: the glass, the hourglass.  Doctor 
Here my Lord.  Duke. 
Ah, 'tis mere spent.  
But Doctor Benedick, does your Art speak truth?  
Art sure the soporiferous stream will ebb,  
And leave the Crystal banks of her white body  
(Pure as they were at first) just at the hour?  Doctor 
just at the hour my Lord.  Duke 
Uncurtain her.  
Softly sweet Doctor: what a coldish heat  
Spreads over all her body.  Doctor 
Now it works:  
The vital spirits that by a sleepy charm  
Were bound up fast, and threw an icy rust  
On her exterior parts, now 'gin to break:  
Trouble her not my Lord.  Duke 
Some stools, you called  
For music, did you not? Oh ho, it speaks,  
It speaks, watch sirs her waking, note those sands,  
Doctor sit down: A Dukedom that should weigh mine  
Own down twice, being put into one stale:  
And that fond desperate boy Hipolito,  
Making the weight up, should not (at my hands)  
Buy her i'th' tother, were her state more light  
Than hers, who makes a dowry up with alms.  
Doctor I'll starve her on the Apennine  
Ere he shall marry her: I must confess,  
Hipolito is nobly borne, a man;  
Did not mine enemy's blood boil in his veins,  
Whom I would court to be my son in law?  
But Princes whose high spleens for empery swell,  
Are not with easy art made parallel.  2 Ser. 
She wakes my Lord.  Duke 
Look Doctor Benedick.  
I charge you on your lives maintain for truth,  
whate'er the Doctor or myself aver  
For you shall bear has hence to Bergamo  Inf. 
Oh God, what fearful dreams?  Doctor 
Lady.  Inf. 
Ha.  Duke 
Girl.  
Why Infaelisha, how be't now, ha, speak?  Inf. 
I'm well, what makes this Doctor here? I'm well.  Duke 
Thou wert not so even now, sickness pale hand  
Laid hold on thee even in the deadst of feasting,  
And when a cap crowned with thy lover's health  
Had touched thy lips, a sensible cold dew  
Stood on thy cheeks, as if that death had wept  
To see such beauty altered.  Inf. 
I remember  
I sat at banquet, but felt no such change.  Duke 
Thou hast forgot then how a messenger  
Came wildly in with this unsavoury news  
That he was dead.  Inf. 
What messenger? who's dead?  Duke 
Hipolito, alack, wring not thy hands.  Inf. 
I saw no messenger, heard no such news,  Doctor 
Trust me you did sweet Lady.  Duke 
La you now.  2 Servants 
Yes indeed Madam.  Duke 
La you now, 'tis well God knows.  Inf. 
You ha' slain him, and now you'll murder me.  Duke 
Good Infaelice vex not thus thyself,  
Of this the bad report before did strike  
So coldly to the heart, that the swift currents  
Of life were all frozen up.  Inf. 
It is untrue,  
'tis most untrue, O most unnatural father!  Duke 
And we had much to do by Arm best cunning,  
To fetch life back again.  Doctor 
Most certain Lady.  Duke 
Why la you now, you'll not believe me, friends,  
Sweat we not all; had we not much to do?  2 Ser. 
Yes indeed my Lord, much.  Duke 
Death drew such fearful pictures in thy face,  
That were Hipolito alive again,  
I'll kneel and woo the noble gentleman  
To be thy husband: now I sore repent  
My sharpness to him, and his family;  
Nay, do not weep for him, we all must die:  
Doctor, this place where she so oft hath seen  
His lively presence, haunts her, does it not?  Doctor 
Doubtless my Lord it does.  Duke 
It does, it does.  
Therefore sweet girl thou shalt to Bergamo.  Inf. 
Even where you will, in any place there's woe.  Duke 
A Coach is ready, Bergamo doth stand  
In a most wholesome air, sweet walks, there's deer,  
ay, thou shalt hunt and send us venison.  
Which like some gods in the Coprian groves,  
Thine own fair hand shall strike; sirs, you shall teach her  
To stand, and how to shoot, ay, she shall hunt:  
Cast off this sorrow. In girl, and prepare  
This night to ride away to Bergamo.  Inf. 
O most unhappy maid. Exit.  Duke 
Follow it close.  
No words that she was buried on your lives,  
Or that her ghost walks now after she's dead;  
I'll hang you if you name a funeral.  1 Ser. 
I'll speak Greek my Lord. ere I speak that deadly word. Exeunt.  2 Ser. 
And I'll speak Welch, which is harder then Greek.  Duke 
Away, look to her; Doctor Benedick  
Did you observe how her complexion altered  
Upon his name and death, O would 'twere true.  Doctor 
It may my Lord.  Duke 
May? how? I wish his death.  Doctor 
And you may have your wish; say but the word,  
And 'tis a strong Spell to rip up his grave:  
I have good knowledge with Hipolito,  
He calls me friend, I'll creep into his bosom,  
And sting him there to death can do't.  Duke 
Perform it; I'll create thee half mine heir.  Doctor 
It shall be done, although the fact be foul.  Duke 
Greatness hides sin, the guilt upon my soul. Exeunt  Enter Castruchio, Pioratto, and Fluello. Cast: 
signor Pioratto, signor Fluello, shall's be merry? shall's play the wags now?  Flu: 
ay, any thing that may beget the child of laughter.  Cast: 
Truth I have a pretty sportive conceit new crept into my brain, will move excellent mirth.  Pio: 
Let's ha''t, let's ha''t, and where shall the scene of mirth lie?  Cast. 
At signor Candido's house, the patient man, nay the monstrous patient man; they say his blood is immovable, that he has taken all patience from a man, and all constancy from a woman.  Flu. 
That makes so many whores nowadays.  Cast. 
ay, and so many knaves too.  Pio. 
Well sir.  Cast. 
To conclude, the report goes, he's so mild, so affable, so suffering, that nothing indeed can move him: now do but think what sport it will be to make this fellow (the mirror of patience) as angry, as vexed, and as mad as an English cuckold.  Flu. 
O, 'twere admirable mirth, that: but how willt be done signor?  Cast. 
Let me alone, I have a wick, a conceit, a thing, a device will sting him i'faith, if he have but a thimbleful of blood in's belly, or a spleen not so big as a tavern token.  Pio. 
Thou stir him? thou move him? thou anger him? alas, I know his approved temper: thou vex him? why he has a patience above man's injuries: thou mayest sooner raise a spleen in an Angel, than rough humour in him: why i'll give you instance for it. This wonderfully tempered signor Candido upon a time invited home to his house certain neopolitan lords of curious taste, and no mean palate, conjuring his wife of all loves, to prepare cheer fitting for such honourable trencher-men. she (just of a woman's nature, covetous to try the uttermost of vexation, and thinking at last to get the start of his humour) willingly neglected the preparation, and became unfurnished, not only of dainty, but of ordinary dishes. He (according to the mildness of his breast) entertained the lords, and with courtly discourse beguiled the time (as much as a Citizen might do:) to conclude, they were hungry lords, for there came no meat in; their stomachs were plainly gulled, and their teeth deluded, and (if anger could have seized a man) there was matter enough i'faith to vex any citizen in the world, if he were not too much made a fool by his wife.  Flu. 
ay, I'll swear for't: 'sfoot, had it been my case, I should ha' played mad tricks with my wife and family: first I would ha' spitted the men, stewed the maids, and baked the mistress, and so served them in.  Pio. 
Why 'twould ha' tempered any blood but his,  
And thou to vex him thou to anger him  
With some poor shallow jest?  Cast. 
'sblood signor Pioratto, (you that disparaged my conceit) i'll wage a hundred ducats upon the head on't, that it moves him, frets him, and galls him.  Pio. 
Done, 'tis a lay, join golls on't: with us signor Fluello.  Cast. 
Witness: 'tis done:  
Come, follow me: the house is not far off▪  
I'll thrust him from his humour, vex his breast,  
And win a hundred ducats by one jest. Exeunt.  Enter Candido's wife, George, and two prentices in the shop. Wife 
Come, you put up your wares in good order here, do you not think you, one peace cast this way, another that way? you had need have a patient master indeed.  George 
ay, I'll be sworn, for we have a cursed mistress.  Wife 
You mumble, do you mumble? I would your master or I could be a note more angry: for two patient folks in a house spoil all the servants that ever shall come under them.  1. prentice 
You patient! I, so is the devil when he is horn mad.  Enter Castruchio, Fluello, and Pioratto. All three 
Gentlemen, what do you lack? what be't you buy? See fine hollands, fine cambrics, fine lawns.  George 
What be't you lack?  2. prentice 
What be't you buy?  Cast. 
Where's signor Candido thy master?  George 
Faith signor, he's a little negotiated, he'll appear presently.  Cast. 
Fellow, let's see a lawn, a choice one sitra.  George 
The best in all Milan, Gentlemen, and this is the piece. I can fit you Gentlemen with fine calicoes too for doublets, the only sweet fashion now, most delicate and courtly, a meek gentle calico, cut upon two double affable taffetas, ah, most neat, feat, and unmatchable.  Flu. 
A notable-voluble tongued villain.  Pio. 
I warrant this fellow was never begot without much prating.  Cast. 
What, and is this she sayst thou?  George 
ay, and the purest she that ever you fingered since you were a gentleman: look how even she is, look how clean she is, ha, as even as the brow of Cinthia, and as clean as your sons and heirs when they ha' spent all.  Cast. 
Puh, thou talk'st, pox on't 'tis rough.  George 
How? is she rough? but if you bid pox on't sir, 'twill take away the roughness presently.  Flu. 
Ha signor; has he fitted your French curse?  George 
Look you Gentleman, here's another, compare them I pray, compara Virgilium cum Flomero, compare virgins with harlots.  Cast. 
Puh, I ha' seen better, and as you term them, evener and cleaner.  Geor. 
You may see further for your mind, but trust me you shall not find better for your body. Enter Candido.  Cast. 
O here he comes, let's make as though we pass,  
Come, come, we'll try in some other shop.  Cand. 
How now? what's the matter?  Geor. 
The gentlemen find fault with this lawn, fall out with it, and without a cause too.  Cand. 
Without a cause!  
And that makes you to let'em pass away,  
Ah, may I crave a word with you gentlemen?  Flu. 
He calls us.  Cast. 
Makes the better for the jest.  Cand. 
I pray come near,- you're very welcome gallants,  
Pray pardon my man's rudeness, for I fear me  
Has talked above a prentice with you,- Lawns!  
Look you kind gentlemen —this! no: I this:  
Take this upon my honest-dealing faith,  
To be a true weave, not too hard, nor slack,  
But e'en as far from falsehood, as from black.  Cast. 
Well, how do you rate it?  Cand. 
Very conscionably, 18. s.a yard.  Cast. 
That's too dear: how many yards does the whole piece contain think you?  Cand. 
Why, some 17. yards I think, or thereabouts,  
How much would serve your turn? I pray.  Cast. 
Why let me see-would it were better too.  Cand. 
Truth, 'tis the best in Milan at few words.  Cast. 
Well: let me have then a whole pennyworth.  Cand. 
Ha, ha: you're a merry gentleman.  Cast. 
A pen'orth I say.  Cand. 
Of lawn!  Cast. 
Of lawn? I of lawn, a pen'orth, 'sblood dost not hear? a whole pen'orth, are you deaf?  Cand. 
Deaf? no Sir: but I must tell you,  
Our wares do seldom meet such customers.  Cast. 
Nay, and you and your lawns be so squeamish,  
Fare you well.  Cand. 
Pray stay, a word, pray signor: for what purpose is it I beseech you?  Cast. 
'sblood, what's that to you: I'll have a penny worth.  Can. 
A pennyworth! why you shall: I'll serve you presently.  2. Pren. 
'sfoot, a pennyworth mistress!  Mist. 
A pennyworth! call you these Gentlemen?  Cast. 
No, no: not there.  Can. 
What then kind Gentleman? what at this corner here?  Cast. 
No nor there neither.  
I'll have it just in the middle, or else not.  Can. 
just in the middle:- ha-you shall too: what?  
Have you a single penny?  Cast. 
Yes, here's one.  Can. 
Lend it me I pray.  Flu. 
An exc'llent followed jest.  Wife. 
What will he spoil the Lawn now?  Can. 
Patience, good wife.  Wife. 
ay, that patience makes a fool of you: Gentlemen, you might ha' found some other Citizen to have made a kind gull on, besides my husband.  Can. 
Pray Gentlemen take her to be a woman,  
Do not regard her language.— O kind soul:  
Such words will drive away my customers,  Wife. 
Customers with a murrain: call you these customers?  Can. 
Patience, good wife.  Wife. 
Pax, a your patience.  Geor. 
'sfoot mistress, I warrant these are some cheating companions.  Can. 
Look you Gentleman, there's your ware, I thank you, I have your money; hear, pray know my shop, pray let me have your custom.  Wife. 
Custom quoth a.  Can. 
Let me take more of your money.  Wife. 
You had need so.  Pio. 
Hark in thine ear, thouhast lost an hundred ducats.  Cast. 
Well, well, I know't: be't possible that Homo,  
Should be nor man, nor woman: not once moved;  
No not at such an injury, not at all!  
Sure he's a pigeon, for he has no gall.  Flu. 
Come, come, you're angry though you smother it:  
youare vexed i'faith,- confess.  Can. 
Why Gentlemen  
Should you conceit me to be vexed or moved?  
He has my ware, I have his money for't,  
And that's no Argument I am angry: no,  
The best Logician can not prove me so.  Flu. 
oh, but the hateful name of a pennyworth of lawn,  
And then cut out, i'th' middle of the piece:  
Pah, I guess it by myself, would move a Lamb  
Were he a Linen-draper- 'twould i'faith.  Can. 
Well, give me leave to answer you for that,  
Were set here to please all customers,  
Their humours and their fancies:- offend none:  
We get by many, if we lose by one.  
May be his mind stood to no more than that,  
A penworth serves him, and 'mongst trades 'tis found,  
Deny a pen'orth, it may cross a pound.  
Oh, he that means to thrive with patient eye,  
Must please the devil, if he come to buy.  Flu. 
O wondrous man, patient 'bove wrong or woe,  
How blessed were men, if women could be so.  Can. 
And to express how well my breast is pleased,  
And satisfied in all:- George fill a beaker. Exit George.  
I'll drink unto that Gentleman, who lately  
Bestowed his money with me.  Wife. 
God's my life,  
We shall have all our gains drunk out in beakers,  
To make amends for penniworths of lawn. Enter Georg.  Can. 
Here wife, begin you to the Gentleman.  Wife. 
I begin to him.  Can. 
George, fillit up again:  
'twas my fault, my hand shook. Exit George.  Pio. 
How strangely this doth show?  
A patient man linked with a waspish shrew.  Flu. 
A silver and gilt beaker! I have a trick to work upon that beaker, sure 'twill fret him, it cannot choose but vex him. Seig▪ Castruchio, in pity to thee, I have a conceit, will save thy 100. Ducats yet, 'twill do't, & work him to impatience.  Cast. 
Sweet Fluello, I should be bountiful to that conceit.  Flu. 
Well 'tis enough. Enter George.  Can. 
Here Gentleman to you,  
I wish your custom, you're exceeding welcome.  Cast. 
I pledge you Seig. Candido,- here you, that must receive a 100. Ducats.  Pior. 
I'll pledge them deep i'faith Castruchio,  
signor Fluello?  Flu. 
Come: play't off: to me,  
I am your last man.  Cand. 
George, supply the cup.  Flu. 
So, so, good honest George,  
Here signor Candido, all this to you.  Cand. 
Oh you must pardon me, I use it not.  Flu. 
Will you not pledge me then?  Cand. 
Yes, but not that:  
Great love is shown in little.  Flu. 
Blurt on your sentences,- 'sfoot you shall pledge me all.  Cand. 
Indeed I shall not.  Flu. 
Not pledge me? 'sblood, I'll carry away the beaker then.  Cand. 
The beaker! Oh! that at your pleasure sir.  Flu. 
Now by this drink I will.  Cast. 
Pledge him, he'll do't else.  Flu. 
So: I ha' done you right, on my thumble nail,  
What will you pledge me now?  Cand. 
You know me sir, I am not of that sin.  Flu. 
Why then farewell:  
I'll bear away the beaker by this light.  Cand. 
That's as you please, 'tis very good.  Flu. 
Nay it doth please me, & as you say, 'tis a very good one:  
Farewell signor Candido.  Pio. 
Farewell Candido.  Cand. 
You're welcome gentlemen.  Cast. 
Heart not moved yet?  
I think his patience is above our wit, Exeunt.  Geor. 
I told you before mistress, they were all cheaters.  Wife 
Why fool, why husband, why madman, I hope you will not let'em sneak away so with a silver and gilt beaker, the best in the house too: go fellows make hue and cry after them.  Cand. 
Pray let your tongue lie still, all will be well:  
Come hither George, high to the Constable,  
And in calm order wish him to attach them,  
Make no great stir, because they're gentlemen,  
And a thing partly done in merriment.  
'tis but a size above a jest thou know'st,  
Therefore pursue it mildly, go be gone,  
The constable's hard by, bring him along,- make haste again.  Wife. 
O you're a goodly patient Woodcock, are you not now? Exit George .See what your patience comes too: every one saddles you, and rides you, you'll be shortly the common stone-horse of Milan: a woman's well helped up with such a meacock, I had rather have a husband that would swaddle me thrice a day, than such a one, that will be gulled twice in half an hour, Oh I could burn all the wares in my shop for anger.  Cand. 
Pray wear a peaceful temper, be my wife,  
That is, be patient: for a wife and husband  
Share but one soul between them: this being known,  
Why should not one soul then agree in one? Exit.  Wife 
Hang your agreements: But if my beaker be gone.  Enter Castruchio, Fluello, Pioratto, and George. Cand. 
Oh, hear they come.  Geor. 
The Constable sir, let'em come along with me, because there should be no wondering, he stays at door.  Cast. 
Constable goodman Abram.  Flu. 
Now signor Candido, 'sblood why do you attach us?  Cast. 
'sheart! attach us!  Cand. 
Nay swear not gallants,  
Your oaths may move your souls, but not move me,  
You have a silver beaker of my wives.  Flu. 
You say not true: 'tis gilt.  Cand. 
Then you say true.  
And being gilt, the guilt lies more on you.  Cast. 
I hope you're not angry sir.  Cand. 
Then you hope right, for I am not angry.  Pio. 
No, but a little moved.  Cand. 
I moved! 'twas you were moved, you were brought hither.  Cast. 
But you (out of your anger & impatience,)  
Caused us to be attached.  Cand. 
Nay you misplace it.  
Out of my quiet sufferance I did that,  
And not of any wrath, had I shown anger,  
I should have then pursued you with the law,  
And hunted you to shame, as many worldlings  
Do build their anger upon feebler grounds,  
The more's the pity, many lose their lives  
For scarce so much coin as will hide their palm:  
Which is most cruel, those have vexed spirits  
That pursue lives, in this opinion rest,  
The loss of Millions could not move my breast.  Flu. 
Thou art a blessed man, and with peace dost deal,  
Such a meek spirit can bless a common weal.  Cand. 
Gentlemen, now 'tis upon eating time,  
Pray part not hence, but dine with me today.  Cast. 
I never heard a carter yet say nay  
To such a motion. I'll not be the first.  Pio. 
Nor I,  Flu. 
Nor I,  Cand. 
The constable shall bear you company,  
George call him in, let the world say what it can,  
Nothing can drive me from a patient man. Exeunt.  Enter Roger with a stool, cushion, looking-glass and chasing-dish, Those being set down, he pulls out of his pocket, a viol with white colour in it. And 2. boxes, one with white, another red painting, he places all things in order & a candle by them singing with the ends of old Ballads as he does it. At last Bellafront (as he rubs his cheek with the colours, whistles within. Ro. 
A non forsooth.  Bell 
What are you playing the rogue about?  Ro. 
About you forsooth: I me drawing up a hole in your white silk stocking.  Bell. 
Is my glass there? and my boxes of complexion?  Ro. 
Yes forsooth: your boxes of complexion are here I think: yes 'tis here: her's your two complexions, and if I had all the four complexions. I should near set a good face upon't, some men I see are borne under hard-favoured planets as well as women: zounds I look worse now than I did before, & it makes her face glister most damnably, there's knavery in daubing I hold my life, or else this is only female Pomatum.  Enter Bellafronte not full ready, without a gown, she sits down, with her bodkin curls her hair, colours her lips. Bell. 
Where's my ruff and poker you blockhead?  Ro. 
Your ruff, your pocket, are engendering together upon the cupboard of the Court, or the Court-cup-bord.  Bel. 
Fetch 'em: Is the pox in your hams, you can go no faster?  Ro. 
Wood the pox were in your fingers, unless you could leave flinging; catch. Exit.  Bell. 
I'll catch you, you dog by and by: do you grumble?  
Cupid is a God, as naked as my nail She sings.  
I'll whip him with a rod, if he my true love fail.  Ro. 
there's your ruff, shall I poke it?  Bel. 
Yes honest  Ro 
no stay: pry thee good boy, hold here,  
Down, down, down, down, I fall down and arise, down, I never shall arise.  Ro. 
Troth M. then leave the trade if you shall never rise.  Bell. 
What trade? goodman Abram.  Ro. 
Why that, if down and arise or the falling trade.  Bell. 
I'll fall with you by and by.  Ro. 
If you do I know who shall smart for't:  
Troth Mistress, what do I look like now?  Bell. 
Like as you are: a panderly Sixpenny Rascal.  Ro. 
I may thank you for that: in faith I look like an old Proverb, Hold the Candle before the devil.  Bell. 
Uds life, I'll stick my knife in your Guts and you prate to me so: What? She sings.  

Well met, pug, the pearl of beauty: umh, umh.  
How now sir knave, you forget your duty, umh, umh.  
Marry muff Sir, are you grown so dainty; fa, la, la, &c.  
Is it you Sir? the worst of twenty, fa la, la, leera la.   
Pox on you, how dost thou hold my glass?  Ro. 
Why, as I hold your door: with my fingers.  Hell. 
Nay pray thee sweet honey  Ro. 
hold up handsomely  
Sing pretty Wantons warble, &c. We shall ha' guests today.  
I lay my little maidenhead, my nose itches so.  Ro. 
I said so too last night, when our Fleas twinged me.  Bell. 
So Poke my ruff now, my gown, my gown, have I my fall?  
where's my fall Roger? One knocks.  Ro. 
Your fall forsooth is behind.  Bell. 
God's my pittikins, some fool or other knocks.  Ro. 
Shall I open to the fool mistress?  Bell. 
And all these babbles lying thus? away with it quickly, ay, ay, knock & be damned, whosoever you be. So: give the fresh Salmon line now: let him come ashore, he shall serve for my breakfast, though he go against my stomach.  Roger Fetch in Fluello, Castruchio, and Pioratto. Flu. 
Morrow coz.  Cast. 
How does my sweet acquaintance?  Pio. 
Save thee little Marmoset: how dost thou good pretty rogue?  Bell. 
Well, Godamercy good pretty rascal.  Flu. 
Roger some light I pry thee.  Ro. 
You shall signor, for we that live here in this vale of misery, are as dark as hell. Exit. for a candle.  Cast. 
Good Tobacco, Fluello?  Flu. 
Smell? Enter Roger.  Pio. 
It may be tickling gear: for it plays with my nose already.  Ro. 
Her's another light Angel, signor.  Bell. 
What? yond pied curtal, what's that you are neighing?  Ro. 
I say God send us the light of heaven, or some more Angels.  Bell. 
Go fetch some wine, and drink half of it.  Ro. 
I must fetch some wine gentlemen and drink half of it.  Flu. 
Here Roger.  Cast. 
No let me send pry thee.  Flu. 
Hold you canker worm.  Ro. 
You shall send both, if you please Signiors.  Pio. 
Stay, what's best to drink a mornings?  Ro. 
hippocras sir, for my mistress, if I fetch it, is most dear to her.  Flu. 
hippocras! there then, her's a teston for you, you snake  Ro. 
Right sir, her's iii.s vi.d for a pottle & a manchet- Ex.  Cast. 
Her's most herculaniam Tobacco, ha some acquaintance?  Bel. 
Fah, not I, makes your breath stink, like the piss of a Fox. Acquaintance, where supped you last night?  Cast. 
At a place sweet acquaintance where your health danced the Canaries i'faith: you should ha' been there.  Bell. 
I there among your Punks, marry fah, hang 'em: scorn't: will you never leave sucking of eggs in other folks hens nests.  Cast. 
Why in good troth, if you'll trust me acquaintance, there was not one hen at the board, ask Fluello.  Flu. 
No faith Coz; none but Cocks, signor Malavella drunk to thee.  Bel. 
O, a pure beagle; that horseleech there?  Flu. 
And the knight, S. Oliver Lollilo, swore he would bestow a taffeta petticoat on thee, but to break his fast with thee.  Bel. 
With me! I'll choke him then, hang him Mole-catcher, it's the dreamingst snotty-nose.  Pio. 
Well, many took that Lollio for a fool, but he's a subtle fool.  Bel. 
ay, and he has fellows: of all filthy dry-fisted knights, I cannot abide that he should touch me.  Cast. 
Why wench, is he scabbed?  Bel. 
Hang him, he'll not live to be so honest, nor to the credit to have scabs about him, his betters have 'em: but I hate to wear out any of his course knighthood, because he's made like an Alderman's nightgown, faced all with coney before, and within nothing but Fox: this sweet Oliver, will eat Mutton till he be ready to burst, but the lean jawed-slave will not pay for the scraping of his trencher.  Pio. 
Plague him, set him beneath the salt, and let him not touch a bit, till every one has had his full cut.  Flu. 
Lord Ello, the gentleman-usher came into us too, marry 'twas in our cheese, for he had been to borrow money for his Lord, of a Citizen.  Cast. 
What an ass is that Lord, to borrow money of a Citizen.  Bell. 
Nay, God's my pity, what an ass is that Citizen to lend money of a Lord.  Enter Matheo and Hypolito, who saluting the Company, as a stranger walks off. Roger comes in sadly behind them, with a pottle-pot, and stands aloof off. Matheo. 
Save you Gallants, signor Fluello, exceedingly well met, as I may say.  Flu. 
signor Matheo, exceedingly well met too, as I may say.  Ma. 
And how fares my little pretty Mistress?  Bell. 
e'en as my little pretty servant; sees three court dishes before her, and not one good bit in them: how now? why the devil standst thou so? Art in a trance?  Ro. 
Yes forsooth.  Bell. 
Why dost not fill out their wine?  Ro. 
Forsooth 'tis filled out already: all the wine that the signor has bestowed upon you is cast away, a Porter ran a little at me, and so faced me down that I had not a drop.  Bel. 
I'm a cursed to let such a withered Artichoke-faced Artichocke-faced Rascall under my nose: now you look like an old he cat, going to the gallows: I'll be hanged if he ha' not put up the money to coney-catch us all.  Ro. 
No truly forsooth, 'tis not put up yet.  Bell 
How many Gentlemen hast thou served thus?  Ro. 
None but five hundred, besides prentices and servingmen.  Bel. 
Dost think I'll pocket it up at thy hands?  Ro. 
Yes forsooth, I fear you will pocket it up.  Bell 
Fie, fie, cut my lace good servant, I shall ha' the mother presently I'm so vexed at this horse-plum.  Flu. 
Plague, not for a scald pottle of wine.  Ma. 
Nay, sweet Bellafronte, for a little Pigs wash.  Cast. 
Here Roger, fetch more, a mischance. I'faith Acquaintance.  Bell 
Out of my sight, thou ungodly puritanical creature.  Ro. 
For the other pottle? yes forsooth. Exit.  Bell. 
Spill that too: what Gentleman is that servant? your Friend?  Ma. 
God's so a stool, a stool, if you love me Mistress entertain this Gentleman respectively, & bid him welcome.  Bell. 
he's very welcome, pray Sir sit.  Hip 
Thanks Lady.  Flu. 
Count Hypolito, be't not? cry you mercy signor, you walk here all this while, and we not heard you? let me bestow a stool upon you beseech you, you are a stranger here, we know the fashions ath house.  Cast. 
Please you be here my Lord. Tobacco.  Hipo. 
No good Castruchio.  Flu. 
You have abandoned the Court I see my lord since the death of your mistress, well she was a delicate piece —beseech you sweet, come let us serve under the colours of your acquaintance still: for all that, please you to meet here at my lodging of my coz, I shall bestow a banquet upon you.  Hipo. 
I never can deserve this kindness sir.  
What may this Lady be, whom you call coz?  Flu. 
Faith sir a poor gentlewoman, of passing good carriage, one that has some suits in law, and lies here in an attorneys house.  Hipo. 
Is she married?  Flu. 
Hah, as all your punks are, a captain's wife, or so? never saw her before, my Lord.  Hipo. 
Never trust me a goodly creature.  Flu. 
By gad when you know her as we do, you'll swear she is the prettiest, kindest, sweetest, most bewitching honest ape under the pole. A skin, your satin is not more soft, nor lawn whiter.  Hipo. 
Belike then she's some sale courtesan.  Flu. 
Troth as all your best faces are, a good wench.  Hipo. 
Great pity that she's a good wench:  Ma. 
Thou shalt ha' i'faith mistress: how now signiors? what? whispering? did not I lay a wager I should take you within seven days in a house of vanity.  Hipo. 
You did, and I beshrew your heart, you have won.  Ma. 
How do you like my mistress?  Hipo. 
Well, for such a mistress: better, if your mistress be not you master.  
I must break manners gentlemen, fare you well.  Ma. 
'sfoot you shall not leave us.  Bell. 
The gentleman likes not the taste of our company,  Omni. 
Beseech you stay.  Hipo. 
Trust me my affairs beckon for me, pardon me.  Ma. 
Will you call for me half an hour hence here?  Hip. 
Perhaps I shall.  Ma. 
Perhaps? fah! I know you can swear to me you will,  Hip. 
Since you will press me on my word, I will. Exit.  Bell. 
What sullen picture is this servant?  Ma. 
Its Count Hipolito, the brave Count.  Pio. 
As gallant a spirit, as any in Milan you sweet Jew,  Flu. 
Oh he's a most essential gentleman, coz.  Cast. 
Did you never hear of Count Hippolito's acquaintance?  Bell. 
Marymuff a your counts, & be no more life in'em.  Ma. 
he's so malcontent! sirrah Bellafronte, & you be honest gallants, let's sup together, and have the count with us: thou shalt sit at the upper end punk.  Bell. 
Punk, you soused gurnet?  Ma. 
king's truce: come, i'll bestow the supper to have him but laugh.  Cast. 
He betrays his youth too grossly to that tyrant melancholy.  Ma. 
All this is for a woman.  Bell. 
A woman! some whore! what sweet jewel be't?  Pio. 
Would she heard you.  Flu. 
Troth so would I.  Cast. 
And I by heaven.  Bell. 
Nay good servant, what woman?  Ma. 
Pah.  Bell. 
Pry thee tell me, abusse and tell me: I warrant he's an honest fellow, if he take on thus for a wench: good rogue who:  Ma. 
Byth' Lord I will not, must not faith mistress: be't a match sirs? his night, at Th'antelope: ay, for there's best wine, and good boys.  Omni. 
It's done at Th'antelope.  Bell. 
I cannot be there tonight.  Ma. 
Cannot? byth' lord you shall.  Bell. 
By the Lady I will not: shall!  Flu. 
Why then put it off till Friday: wilt come then coz?  Bell. 
Well. Enter Roger.  Ma. 
You're the waspishest Ape. Roger, put your mistress in mind to sup with us on friday next: you're best come like a madwoman without a band in your waistcoat, & the linings of your kirtle outward, like every common hackney that steals out at the back gate of her sweet knights lodging  Bell. 
Go, go, hang yourself.  Cast. 
Its dinner time Matheo, shall's hence?  Omni. 
Yes, yes, farewell wench. Exeunt.  Bell. 
Farewell boys: Roger what wine sent they for?  Ro. 
Bastard wine, for if it had been truly begotten, it would not ha' been ashamed to come in, her's vi. s. to pay for nursing the bastard.  Bell. 
A company of rooks! O good sweet Roger, run to the Poulters and buy me some fine Larks.  Ro. 
No woodcocks?  Bell. 
Yes faith a couple, if they be not dear.  Ro. 
I'll buy but one, there's one already here. Exit.  Enter Hipolito. Hipo. 
Is the gentleman (my friend) departed mistress?  Bell. 
His back is but new-turned sir.  Hipo. 
Fare you well.  Bell. 
I can direct you to him.  Hipo. 
Can you? pray.  Bell. 
If you please stay, he'll not be absent long.  Hipo. 
I care not much.  Bell. 
Pray sit forsooth.  Hipo. 
I'm hot.  Hipo. 
If may use your room, i'll rather walk.  Bell. 
At your best pleasure-whew-some rubbers there.  Hipo. 
Indeed i'll none:- Indeed I will not: thanks.  
Pretty-fine-lodging. I perceive my friend  
Is old in your acquaintance.  Bell. 
Troth sir, he comes  
As other gentlemen, to spend spare hours;  
If yourself like our roof (such as it is)  
Your own acquaintance may be as old as his.  Hipo. 
Say I did like; what welcome should I find?  Bell. 
Such as my present fortunes can afford.  Hipo. 
But would you let me play Matheo's part?  Bell. 
What part?  Hipo. 
Why embrace you: dally with you, kiss:  
Faith tell me, will you leave him, and love me?  Bell. 
I am in bonds to no man sir.  Hipo. 
Why then,  
You're free for any man: if any, me.  
But I must tell you Lady, were you mine,  
You should be all mine: I could brook no sharers,  
I should be covetous, and sweep up all.  
I should be pleasures usurer: faith I should.  Bell. 
O fate!  Hipo. 
Why sigh you Lady? may I know?  Bell. 
'thas never been my fortune yet to single  
Out that one man, whose love could fellow mine.  
As I have ever wished it: o my Stars!  
Had I but met with one kind gentleman,  
That would have entombed sin alone, to himself,  
For his own private use, although scarce proper:  
Indifferent handsome: meetly legged and thighed:  
And my allowance reasonable —i'faith,  
According to my body —by my troth,  
I would have been as true unto his pleasures,  
Yea, and as loyal to his afternoons,  
As ever a poor gentlewoman could be.  Hipo. 
This were well now, to one but newly fledged,  
And scarce a day old in this subtle world:  
'twere pretty Art, good bird-lime, cunning net:  
But come, come, faith —confess: how many men  
Have drunk this self-same protestation,  
From that red 'ticing lip?  Bell. 
Indeed not any.  Hipo. 
Indeed? and blush not!  Bell. 
No, in truth not any.  Hipo. 
Indeed! in truth!-how warily you swear?  
'tis well: if ill it be not: yet had I  
The ruffian in me, and were drawn before you  
But in light colours, I do know indeed,  
You could not swear indeed, But thunder oaths  
That should shake heaven, drown the harmonious spheres,  
And pierce a soul (that loved her maker's honour)  
With horror and amazement.  Bell. 
Shall I swear?  
Will you believe me then?  Hipo. 
Worst than of all,  
Our sins by custom, seem (at last) but small.  
Were I but o'er your threshold, a next man,  
And after him a next, and then a fourth,  
Should have this golden hook, and lascivious bait,  
Thrown out to the full length, why let me tell you:  
I ha' seen letters sent from that white hand,  
Tuning such music to Matheo's ear.  Bell. 
Mathaeo! that's true, but believe it, I  
No sooner had laid hold upon your presence,  
But straight mine eye conveyed you to my heart.  Hipo. 
Oh, you cannot feign with me, why, I know Lady,  
This is the common passion of you all,  
To hook in a kind gentleman, and then  
Abuse his coin, conveying it to your lover,  
And in the end you show him a french trick,  
And so you leave him, that a coach may run  
Between his legs for breadth.  Bell 
O by my soul!  
Not I: therein i'll prove an honest whore,  
In being true to one, and to no more.  Hipo. 
If any be disposed to trust your oath,  
Let him: i'll not be he, I know you feign  
All that you speak, I: for a mingled harlot,  
Is true in nothing but in being false.  
What! shall I teach you how to loathe yourself?  
And mildly too: not without sense or reason.  Bell. 
I am content, I would fain loathe myself,  
If you not love me.  Hipo. 
Then if your gracious blood be not all wasted,  
I shall assay to do't.  
Lend me your silence, and attention,- you have no soul,  
That makes you weigh so light: heavens treasure bought it,  
And half a crown hath sold it: for your body  
Is like the common shore, that still receives  
All the towns filth. The sin of many men  
Is within you, and thus much I suppose,  
That if all your committers stood in rank,  
they'd make a lane, (in which your shame might dwell)  
And with their spaces reach from hence to hell.  
Nay, shall I urge it more, there has been known,  
As many by one harlot, maimed and dismembered,  
As would ha' stuffed an Hospital: this I might  
Apply to you, and perhaps do you right:  
O you're as base as any beast that bears,  
Your body is e'en hired, and so are theirs.  
For gold and sparkling jewels, (if he can)  
You'll let a Jew get you with christian:  
Be he a moor, a Tartar, though his face  
Look uglier than a dead man's skull,  
Could the devil put on a human shape,  
If his purse shake out crowns, up then he gets,  
Whores will be rid to hell with golden bits:  
So that you're crueler than Turks, for they  
Sell Christians only, you sell yourselves away.  
Why those that love you, hate you: and will term you  
liquorish damnation: wish themselves half sunk  
After the sin is laid out, and e'en curse  
Their fruitless riot, (for what one begets  
Another poisons) lust and murder hit,  
A tree being often shook, what fruit can knit?  Bell. 
O me unhappy!  Hip. 
I can vex you more;  
A harlot is like Dunkirk, true to none,  
Swallows both English, Spanish, fulsome Dutch,  
black-doored Italian last of all the French,  
And he sticks to you faith: gives you your diet,  
Brings you acquainted, first with monsieur Doctor,  
And than you know what follows.  Bell. 
Misery.  
Rank, sinking, and most loathsome misery.  Hip. 
methinks a toad is happier than a whore,  
That with one poison swells, with thousands more  
The other stocks her veins: harlot: fie! fie,  
You are the miserablest Creatures breathing,  
The very slaves of nature: mark me else,  
You put on rich attires, others eyes wear them,  
You eat, but to supply your blood with sin,  
And this strange curse e'en haunts you to your graves.  
From fools you get, and spend it upon slaves:  
Like Bears and Apes, you're baited and show tricks  
For money; but your Bawd the sweetness licks.  
Indeed you are their journey-women, and do  
All base and damned works they list set you to:  
So that you ne'er are rich; for do but show me,  
In present memory, or in ages past,  
The fairest and most famous Courtesan,  
Whose flesh was dearest; that raised the price of sin,  
And held it up; to whose intemperate bosom,  
Princes, Earls, Lords, the worst has been a knight,  
The mean'st a Gentleman, have offered up  
Whole Hecatombs of sighs, & rained in showers  
Handfuls of gold, yet for all this, at last  
Diseases sucked her marrow, then grew so poor,  
That she has begged, e'en at a beggars door.  
And (wherein heaven has a singer) when this Idol,  
From coast to coast, has leapt on foreign shores,  
And had more worship, than th'outlandish whores:  
When several Nations have gone over her,  
When for each several City she has seen,  
Her Maidenhead has been new, & been sold dear:  
Did live well there, & might have died unknown,  
And undefamed; back comes she to her own,  
And there both miserably lives and dies,  
Scorned even of those, that once adored her eyes,  
As if her fatal-circled life, thus ran,  
Her pride should end there, where it first began.  
What do you weep to hear your Story read?  
Nay, if you spoil your cheeks, I'll read no more.  Bel. 
O yes, I pray proceed:  
Indeed 'twill do me good to weep indeed.  Hip. 
To give those tears a relish, this I add,  
You're like the Jews, scattered, in no place certain,  
Your days are tedious, your hours burdensome:  
And were't not for full suppers, midnight Revels,  
Dancing, wine, riotous meetings, which do drown,  
And bury quite in you all virtuous thoughts,  
And on your eyelids hang so heavily,  
They have no power to look so high as heaven,  
You'd sit and muse on nothing but despair,  
Curse that devil Lust, that so burns up your blood,  
And in ten thousand shivers break your glass  
For his temptation. Say you taste delight,  
To have a golden Gull from rize to See,  
To meat you in his hot luxurious arms,  
Yet your nights pay for all: I know you dream  
Of warrants, whips, & Beadles, and then start  
At a doors windy creak: think every weasel  
To be a Constable: and every Rat  
A long tailed Officer: Are you now not slaves?  
Oh you have damnation without pleasure for it!  
Such is the state of Harlots. To conclude,  
When you are old, and can well paint no more,  
You turn Bawd, and are then worse than before:  
Make use of this: farewell.  Bel Bel. 
Oh, I pray stay.  Hip. 
See Matheo comes not: time hath bar me,  
Would all the Harlots in the town had heard me. Exit.  Bel. 
Stay yet a little longer. no: quite gone!  
Cursed be that minute (for it was no more.  
So soon a maid is changed into a Whore)  
Wherein I first fell, be it for ever black;  
Yet why should sweet Hipolito shun mine eyes;  
For whose true love I would become pure-honest,  
Hate the world's mixtures, & the smiles of gold:  
Am I not fair? Why should he fly me then?  
Fair creatures are desired, not scorned of men.  
How many Gallants have drunk healths to me,  
Out of their daggered arms, & thought them blessed,  
Enjoying but mine eyes at prodigal feasts!  
And does Hipolito detest my love?  
Oh, sure their heedless lusts but flattered me,  
I am not pleasing, beautiful nor young,  
Hipolito hath spied some ugly blemish,  
Eclipsing all my beauties: I am foul:  
Harlot! ay, that's the spot that taints my soul:  
What! has he left his weapon here behind him,  
And gone forgetful? O fit instrument  
To let forth all the poison of my flesh!  
Thy M. hates me, cause my blood hath ranged:  
But when 'tis forth, than he'll believe I'm changed.  Hip. 
Mad woman, what art doing? Enter Hipo.  Bel. 
Either love me,  
Or split my heart upon thy rapier's point:  
Yet do not neither; for thou then destroy'st  
That which I love thee for (thy virtues) here, here,  
thouart crueler, and kill'st me with disdain:  
To die so, sheds no blood, yet 'tis worse pain. Exit Hipol.  
Not speak to me! not bid farewell! a scorn!  
Hated! this must not be, some means I'll try.  
Would all Whores were as honest now, as I. Exeunt.   

SCENA 7.  Enter Candido, his wife, George, and two Prentices in the shop: Fustigo enters, walking by. Geor. 
See Gentlemen, what you lack? a fine Holland, a fine cambric, see what you buy.  1. Pr. 
Holland for shirts, cambric for bands, what be't you lack?  Fust. 
'sfoot, I lack 'em all, nay more, I lack money to buy 'em: let me see, let me look again: mass this is the shop; What Coz! sweet Coz! how dost i'faith, since last night after candlelight? we had good sport i'faith, had we not? and when shall's laugh again?  Wi. 
When you will, Cousin.  Fust. 
Spoke like a kind Lacedaemonian: I see yonder's thy husband.  Wi. 
there's the sweet youth, God bless him.  Fust. 
And how be't Cousin? & how? how be't thou squall?  Wi. 
Well, Cousin, how fare you?  Fust. 
How fare I? troth, for sixpence a meal, wench, as well as heart can wish, with calves caldrons and chitterlings, beside I have a Punch after supper, as good as a roasted Apple.  Cand. 
Are you my wives Cousin?  Fust. 
A am, sir, what hast thou to do with that?  Cand. 
O, nothing but you're welcome.  Fust. 
The devils dung in thy teeth: I'll be welcome whether thou wilt or no, I: What Ring's this Coz? very pretty and fantastical i'faith, let's see it.  Wife 
Puh! nay you wrench my finger.  Fust. 
I ha' sworn I'll ha''t, and I hope you will not let my oaths be cracked in the ring, will you? I hope, sir, you are not melancholy at this for all your great looks: are you angry?  Cand. 
Angry? not I sir, nay, if she can part  
So easily with her Ring, 'tis with my heart.  Geo. 
Suffer this, sir, & suffer all, a whoreson Gull, to—,  Can. 
Peace, George, when she has reaped what I have sown,  
she'll say, one grain tastes better of her own,  
Then whole sheaves gathered from another's land:  
Wit's never good, till bought at a dear hand.  Geo. 
But in the mean time she makes an Ass of somebody.  2. Pren. 
See, see, see, sir, as you turn your back, they do nothing but kiss.  Cand. 
No matter, let 'em: when I touch her lip,  
I shall not feel his kisses, no nor miss  
Any of her lip: no harm in kissing is.  
Look to your business, pray, make up your wares.  Fust. 
Troth Coz, and well remembered, I would thou wouldst give me five yards of Lawn, to make my Punk some falling bands o' the fashion, three falling one upon another: for that's the new edition now: she's out of linen horribly too, troth, she's never a good smock to her back neither, but one that has a great many patches in't, & that I'm feign to wear myself for want of shift to: prithee put me into wholesome nappery, & bestow some clean commodities upon us.  Wife. 
Reach me those cambrics, & the Lawns hither.  Cand. 
What to do wife? to lavish out my goods upon a fool?  Fust. 
Fool! Sneales eat the fool, or I'll so batter your crown, that it shall scarce go for five shillings.  2. Pr. 
Do you hear sir? you're best be quiet, & say a fool tells you so.  Fust. 
Nails, I think so, for thou tell'st me.  Can. 
Are you angry sir, because I named the fool?  
Trust me, you are not wife, in mine own house;  
And to my face to play the Antic thus:  
If you'll needs play the madman, choose a stage  
Of lesser compass, where few eyes may note  
Your actions error; but if still you miss,  
As here you do, for one clap, ten will hiss.  Fust. 
Zounds cousin, he talks to me, as if I were a scurvy Tragedian.  2. pren. 
Sirrah George, I ha' thought upon a device, how to break his pate, beat him soundly, and ship him away.  Geor. 
Do't.  2. Pre. 
I'll go in, pass thorough the house, give some of our fellow Prentices the watchword when they shall enter, then come & fetch my master in by a wile, and place one in the hall to hold him in conference, whilst we cudgel the Gull out of his coxcomb.  Geor. 
Do't: away, do't.  Wife. 
Must I call twice for these cambrics & lawns?  Cand. 
Nay see, you anger her, George, prithee dispatch.  2. pr. 
Two of the choicest pieces are in the warehouse sir.  Cand. 
Go fetch them presently. Exit 1. prentice.  Fust. 
ay, do, make haste, sirrah.  Cand. 
Why were you such a stranger all this while, being my wives Cousin?  Fust. 
Stranger? no sir, I me a natural milliner borne.  Can. 
I perceive still it is your natural guise to mistake me, but you are welcome sir, I much wish your acquaintance.  Fust. 
My acquaintance? I scorn that i'faith; I hope my acquaintance goes in chains of gold three and fifty times double: you know who I mean, Coz, the posts of his gate are a painting to. Enter the 2. Prentice.  2. Pren. 
signor Pandulfo the Merchant desires conference with you.  Can. 
signor Pandulfo? I'll be with him straight. Attend your mistress and the Gentleman. Exit.  Wife. 
When do you show those pieces?  Fust. 
ay, when do you show those pieces?  Omn. 
Presently sir, presently, we are but charging them.  Fust. 
Come sirrah, you flatcap, where be these whites?  Geo. 
flat-capped hark in your ear sir, you're a flat fool, an Ass, a gull, & I'll thrum you: do you see this cambric sir?  Fust. 
'sfoot Coz, a good jest, did you hear him? he told me in my ear, I was a flat fool, an Ass, a Gull, and I'll thrum you: do you see this cambric sir?  Wi. 
What, not my men, I hope?  Fust. 
No, not your men, but one of your men i'faith.  1. Pr. 
I pray sir, come hither, what say you to this? here an excellent good one.  Fust. 
I marry, this likes me well, cut me off some half score yards.  2. Pr. 
Let your whores cut, you're an impudent cox comb, you get none, & yet I'll thrum you. A very good cambric sir.  Fust. 
Again, again, as God judge me: 'sfoot, Coz, they stand thrumming here with me all day, & yet I get nothing.  1. Pr. 
A word I pray sir, you must not be angry, prentices have hot bloods, young fellows,- What say you to this piece? look you, 'tis so delicate, so soft, so even, so fine a third, that a Lady may wear it.  Fust. 
'sfoot I think so, if a Knight marry my Punk, a Lady shall wear it: cut me off 20. yards: thouart an honest lad.  1. Pr. 
Not without money, gull, & i'll thrum you to.  Omn. 
Gull, we'll thrum you.  Fust. 
O Lord, sister, did you not hear something cry thrum? zounds your men here make a plain ass of me.  Wi. 
What, to my face so impudent?  Geor. 
ay, in a cause so honest, we'll not suffer  
Our master's goods to vanish money less.  Wife. 
You will not suffer them.  2. Pr. 
No, and you may blush,  
In going about to vex so mild a breast,  
As is our masters.  Wi. 
Take away those pieces.  
cousin, I give them freely.  Fust. 
Mass, and I'll take 'em as freely.  Om. 
we'll make you lay 'em down again more freely.  Wi. 
Help, help, my brother willbe murdered. Enter Can.  Cand. 
How now, what coil is here? forbear, I say.  Geor. 
He calls us Flatcaps, and abuses us.  Can. 
Why, sirs? do such examples flow from me?  Wi. 
They are of your keeping sir, alas poor brother.  Fust. 
I faith they ha' peppered me, sister: look, dost not spin? call you these Prentices? I'll near play at cards more when clubs is trump: I have a goodly coxcomb, sister, have I not?  Cand. 
Sister and brother, brother to my wife.  Fust. 
If you have any skill in Heraldry, you may soon know that, break but her pate, and you shall see her blood and mine is all one.  Can. 
A Surgeon, run, a Surgeon: Why then wore you that forged name of cousin?  Fust. 
Because it's a common thing to call Coz, and mingle now adays all the world over.  Cand. 
cousin! A name of much deceit, folly and sin,  
For under that common abused word,  
Many an honest tempered citizen  
Is made a monster, and his wife trained out  
To foul adulterous action, full of fraud.  
I may well call that word, A City's Bawd.  Fust. 
Troth, brother, my sister would needs ha' me take upon me to gull your patience a little: but it has made double Gules on my coxcomb.  Wife. 
What, playing the woman? blabbing now you fool?  Cand. 
O, my wife did but exercise a jest upon your wit.  Fust. 
'sfoot, my wit bleeds for't, methinks.  Cand. 
Then let this warning more of sense afford.  
The name of cousin is a bloody word.  Fust. 
I'll near call Coz again whilst I live; to have such a coil about it: this should be a Coronation day; for my head runs Claret lustily. Exit Enter an Officer.  Can. 
Go with the Surgeon to have great respect.  
How now, my friend, what, do they sit today?  Off. 
Yes sir, they expect you at the Senate-house.  Can. 
I thank your pains, I'll not be last man there. Exit Off.  
My gown, George, go, my gown. A happy land,  
Where grave men meet each cause to understand,  
Whose consciences are not cut out in bribes,  
To gull the poor man's right: but in even scales,  
Peise rich & poor, without corruptions veils.  
Come, where's the gown?  Ge. 
I cannot find the key sir.  Cand. 
Request it of your mistress.  Wife. 
Come not to me for any key.  
I'll not be troubled to deliver it.  Cand. 
Good wife, kind wife, it is a needful trouble, but for my gown.  Wife. 
Moths swallow down your gown:  
you set my teeth an edge with talking on't.  Cand. 
Nay pry thee, sweet, I cannot meet without it,  
I should have a great fine set on my head.  Wife. 
Set on your coxcomb: tush, fine me no fines.  Can. 
Believe me (sweet) none greets the Senate-house, without his rob of reverence, that's his Gown.  Wife. 
Well, then you're like to cross that custom once,  
You get nor key, nor gown, and so depart:  
This trick will vex him sure, and fret his heart. Exit.  Cand. 
Stay, let me see, I must have some device,  
My cloak's too short: fie, fie, no cloak will do't:  
It must be something fashioned like a gown,  
With my arms out: oh George, come hither George,  
I pry thee lend me thine advice.  Geor. 
Troth sir, were it any but you, they would break open chest.  Cand. 
O no, break open chest! that's a thieves office:  
Therein you counsel me against my blood:  
'Twould show impatience that, any meek means  
I would be glad to embrace. Mass I have got it:  
Go, step up, fetch me down one of the Carpets,  
The saddest coloured Carpet, honest George,  
Cut thou a hole i'th' middle for my neck,  
Two for mine arms, nay prithee look not strange.  Geor. 
I hope you do not think sir, as you mean.  Cand. 
Prithee about it quickly, the hour chides me:  
Warily George, softly, take heed of eyes, Exit George.  
Out of two evils he's accounted wise,  
That can pick out the least; the Fine imposed  
For an ungowned Senator, is about  
Forty crusadoes, the Carpet not 'bove four.  
Thus have I chosen the lesser evil yet,  
Preserved my patience, foiled her desperate wit.  Geor. 
Here, sir, here's the Carpet. Enter George.  Cand. 
O well done, George, we'll cut it just i'th' midst:  
'tis very well I thank thee, help it on.  Ge. 
It must come over your head, sir, like a wench's petticoat.  Cand. 
thouart in the right, good George, it must indeed.  
Fetch me a nightcap: for I'll gird it close,  
As if my health were queasy: 'twill show well  
For a rude careless nightgown, will't not thinkst?  Ge. 
Indifferent well, sir, for a nightgown, being girt & pleated.  Cand. 
ay, and a nightcap on my head.  Ge. 
That's true sir, I'll run & fetch one, & a staff. Exit Ge.  Cand. 
For thus they cannot choose but construe it,  
One that is out of health, takes no delight,  
Wears his apparel without appetite,  
And puts on heedless raiment without form. Enter Geo.  
So so, kind George, be secret now: & prithee do not laugh at me till I me out of sight.  Geo. 
I laugh? not I sir.  Cand. 
Now to the Senate-house:  
Methinks, I'd rather wear, without a frown,  
A patient Carpet, than an angry Gown. Exit.  Ge. 
Now looks my M. just like one of our carpet knights, only he's somewhat the honester of the two. Enter Candido's wife.  Wi. 
What, is your master gone?  Geo. 
Yes forsooth, his back is but new turned.  Wi. 
And in his cloak? did he not vex and swear?  Geor. 
No, but he'll make you swear anon: no indeed, he went away like a lamb.  Wife. 
Key sink to hell: still patient, patient still!  
I am with child to vex him: prithee George,  
If ere thou look'st for favour at my hands,  
Uphold one jest for me.  Geor. 
Against my master?  Wi. 
'tis a mere jest in faith: say, wilt thou do't?  Geor. 
Well, what be't?  Wi. 
Here, take this key, thou know'st where all things lie,  
Put on thy master's best apparel, Gown,  
Chain, Cap, Ruff, every thing, be like himself,  
And 'gainst his coming home, walk in the shop,  
Fain the same carriage, and his patient look,  
'Twill breed but a jest thou know'st, speak, wilt thou?  Geor. 
'Twill wrong my master's patience.  Wi. 
Prithee George.  Geor. 
Well, if you'll save me harmless, and put me under covert barn, I am content to please you provided it may breed no wrong against him.  Wi. 
No wrong at all: here take the Key, be gone:  
If any vex him, this: if not this, none Exeunt.   

SCENA 8.  Enter a Bawd and Roger. Bawd. 
O Roger, Roger, where's your mistress, where's your mistress? there's the finest, neatest Gentleman at my house, but newly come over: O where is she, where is she, where is she?  Rog. 
My mistress is abroad, but not amongst 'em: my mistress is not the whore now that you take her for.  Baw. 
How? is she not a whore? do you go about to take away her good name, Roger? you are a fine Pandar indeed.  Rog. 
I tell you, Madonna Finger-lock, I am not sad for nothing, I ha' not eaten one good meal this three & thirty days: I had wont to get sixteen pence by fetching a pottle of hippocras: but now those days are past: we had as good doings, Madonna Finger-lock, she within doors and I without, as any poor young couple in Milan.  Baw. 
God's my life, and is she changed now?  Rog. 
I ha' lost by her squeamishness, more than would have builded 12. bawdy houses.  
And had she no time to turn honest but now? what a vile woman is this? twenty pound a night, I'll be sworn, Roger, in good gold and no silver: why here was a time, if she should ha' picked out a time, it could not be better! gold enough stirring; choice of men, choice of hair, choice of beards, choice of legs, and choice of every, every, every thing: it cannot sink into my head, that she should be such an Ass. Roger, I never believe it.  Rog. 
Here she comes now. Enter Bellafronte.  Baw. 
O sweet Madonna, on with your loose gown, your felt & your feather, there's the sweetest, properest, gallantest Gentleman at my house, he smells all of Musk & Amber grease, his pocket full of Crowns, flame-coloured doublet, red satin hose, Carnation silk stockings, and a leg and a body, oh!  Bel. 
Hence, thou our sex's monster, poisonous Bawd,  
lust's Factor, and damnation's Orator,  
Gossip of hell, were all the harlot's sins  
Which the whole world contains, numbered together,  
Thine far exceeds them all; of all the creatures  
That ever were created, thou art basest:  
What serpent would beguile thee of thy Office?  
It is detestable: for thou liv'st  
Upon the dregs of Harlots, guard'st the door,  
Whilst couples go to dancing: O course devil!  
Thou art the Bastard's curse, thou brand'st his birth,  
The lechers French disease; for thou dry-suck'st him:  
The harlot's poison, and thine own confusion.  Baw. 
Mary come up with a pox, have you nobody to rail against, but your Bawd now?  Bel. 
And you, Knave Pandar, kinsman to a Bawd.  Rog. 
You and I Madonna, are cousins.  Bel. 
Of the same blood and making, near allied,  
Thou, that slave to sixpence, base-metaled villain.  Rog, 
Sixpence? nay that's not so; I never took under two shillings four pence, I hope I know my fee.  Bel. 
I know not against which most to inveigh:  
For both of you are damned so equally.  
Thou never sparest for oaths: swearest any thing,  
As if thy soul were made of shoe-leather.  
God dam me, Gentleman, if she be within,  
When in the next room she's found dallying.  Rog. 
If it be my vocation to swear, every man in his vocation: I hope my betters swear and damn themselves, and why should not I?  Bel. 
Roger, you cheat kind gentlemen?  Rog. 
The more gulls they.  Bel. 
Slave, I cashier thee.  Baw. 
And you do cashier him, he shallbe entertained.  Rog. 
Shall I? then blurt a your service.  Bel. 
As hell would have it, entertained by you!  
I dare the devil himself to match those two. Exit.  Baw. 
Mary gup, are you grown so holy, so pure, so honest with a pox?  Rog. 
Scurvy honest Punk! But stay Madonna, how must our agreement be now? for you know I am to have all the comings in at the hall door, & you at the chamber door.  Ba. 
True Rog. except my vails.  Rog. 
Vails, what vails?  Ba. 
Why as thus, if a couple come in a Coach, & light to lie down a little, than Roger, that's my fee, & you may walk abroad; for the Coach man himself is their Pandar.  Ro. 
Is a so? in truth I have almost forgot, for want of exercise: But how if I fetch this Citizens wife to that Gull, & that Madonna to that Gallant, how then?  Ba. 
Why then, Roger, you are to have sixpence a lane, so many lanes, so many sixpences.  Ro. 
be't so? then I see we two shall agree and live together.  Ba. 
I Roger, so long as there be any Taverns and bawdy houses in Milan. Exeunt.   

SCENA 9.  Enter Bellafronte with a Lute, pen, ink and paper being placed before her. Song. 
THe courtier's flattering jewels,  
(Temptations only fuels)  
The lawyer's ill-got moneys,  
That suck up poor Bees Honeys:  
The Citizens son's riot,  
The gallant costly diet:  
Silks and Velvets, Pearls and Ambers,  
Shall not draw me to their Chambers. she writes.  
Silks and Velvets, &c.  
Oh, 'tis in vain to write: it will not please,  
Ink on this paper would ha' but presented  
The foul black spots that stick upon my soul,  
And rather make me loathsomer, then wrought  
My loves impression in Hipolito's thought.  
No, I must turn the chaste leaves of my breast,  
And pick out some sweet means to breed my rest.  
Hipolito, believe me I will be  
As true unto thy heart, as thy heart to thee,  
And hate all men, their gifts and company.  Enter Matheo, Castruchio, Fluello, Pioratto. Mat. 
You, goody Punk, subandi Cockatrice, O you're a sweet whore of your promise, are you not think you? how well you came to supper to us last night: mew, a whore & break her word! nay you may blush, & hold down your head at it well enough: 'sfoot, ask these gallants if we stayed not till we were as hungry as Sergeants.  Flu. 
ay, and their Yeoman too.  Cast. 
Nay faith Acquaintance, let me tell you, you forgot yourself too much: we had excellent cheer, rare vintage, and were drunk after supper.  Pior. 
And when we were in our Woodcocks (sweet Rogue) a brace of gulls, dwelling here in the City, came in & paid all the shot.  Mat. 
Pox on her, let her alone.  Bel. 
O, I pray do, if you be Gentlemen:  
I pray depart the house; beshrew the door  
For being so easily entreated: faith,  
I lent but little ear unto your talk,  
My mind was busied otherwise in troth,  
And so your words did unregarded pass:  
Let this suffice, I am not as I was.  Flu. 
I am not what I was! no I'll be sworn thou art not: for thou wert honest at five, & now thouart a Punk at fifteen: thou wert yesterday a simple whore, and now thouart a cunning coney-catching Baggage today.  Bel. 
I'll say I me worse, I pray forsake me then,  
I do desire you leave me, Gentlemen,  
And leave yourselves: O be not what you are,  
(Spendthrifts of soul and body)  
Let me persuade you to forsake all Harlots,  
Worse then the deadliest poisons, they are worse:  
For o'er their souls hangs an eternal curse,  
In being slaves to slaves, their labours perish,  
theyare seldom blessed with fruit; for ere it blossoms,  
Many a worm confounds it.  
They have no issue but foul ugly ones,  
That run along with them, e'en to their graves:  
For stead of children, they breed rank diseases,  
And all, you Gallants, can bestow on them,  
Is that French Infant, which ne'er acts but speaks:  
What shallow son & heir then, foolish gallant,  
Would waste all his inheritance, to purchase  
A filthy loathed disease? and pawn his body  
To a dry evil: that usury's worst of all,  
When th'interest will eat out the principal.  Mat. 
'sfoot, she gulls 'em the best: this is always her fashion, when she would be rid of any company that she cares not for, to enjoy mine alone.  Flu. 
What's here? instructions, Admonitions, and Caveats? come out, you scabbard of vengeance.  Mat. 
Fluello, spurn your hounds when they fist, you shall not spurn my Punk, I can tell you my blood is vexed.  Flu. 
Pox a your blood: make it a quarrel.  Mat. 
You're a Slave, will that serve turn?  Omn. 
'sblood, hold, hold.  Cast. 
Matheo, Fluello, for shame put up.  Mat. 
Spurn my sweet Varlet!  Bel. 
O how many thus  
Moved with a little folly, have let out  
Their souls in Brothel houses, fell down and died  
Just at their harlot's foot, as 'twere in pride.  Flu. 
Matheo, we shall meet.  Mat. 
ay, ay, anywhere, saving at Church: pray take heed we meet not there.  Flu. 
adieu, Damnation.  Cast. 
Cockatrice, farewell.  Pi. 
There's more deceit in women, then in hell. Exeunt.  Mat. 
Ha, ha, thou dost gull 'em so rarely, so naturally: if I did not think thou hadst been in earnest: thou art a sweet Rogue for't i'faith.  Bel. 
Why are not you gone to, signor Matheo?  
I pray depart my house: you may believe me,  
In troth I have no part of Harlot in me.  Mat. 
How's this?  Bel. 
Indeed I love you not: but hate you worse  
Than any man, because you were the first  
Gave money for my soul; you broke the Ice,  
Which after turned a puddle: I was led  
By your temptation to be miserable:  
I pray seek out some other that will fall,  
Or rather (I pray) seek out none at all.  Mat. 
be't possible, to be impossible, an honest whore! I have heard many honest wenches turn Strumpets with a wet finger; but for a Harlot to turn honest, is one of Hercules' labours: It was more easy for him in one night to make fifty queans, than to make one of them honest again in fifty years: come, I hope thou dost but jest.  Bel. 
'tis time to leave off jesting, I had almost  
jested away Salvation: I shall love you,  
If you will soon forsake me.  Mat. 
God buy thee.  Bel. 
Oh, tempt no more women: shun their weighty curse,  
Women (at best) are bad, make them not worse,  
You gladly seek our sex's overthrow:  
But not to raise our states for all your wrongs.  
Will you vouchsafe me but due recompense,  
To marry with me?  Mat. 
How, marry with a Punk, a Cockatrice, a Harlot? mary foh, I'll be burnt thorough the nose first.  Bel. 
Why la? these are your oaths you love to undo us,  
To put heaven from us, whilst our best hours waste:  
You love to make us lewd, but never chaste.  Mat. 
I'll hear no more of this: this ground upon,  
thouart damned for altering thy Religion. Exit.  Bel. 
Thy lust and sin speak so much: go thou my ruin,  
The first fall my soul took; by my example  
I hope few maidens now will put their heads  
Under men's girdles: who least trusts, is most wise:  
Men's oaths do cast a mist before our eyes.  
My best of wit be ready: now I go,  
By some device to greet Hipolito.   

SCENA 10.  Enter a servant setting out a Table, on which be places a skull, a picture, a book and a Taper. Ser. 
So, this is Monday morning, and now must I to my housewifry: would I had been created a Shoemaker; for all the gentle craft are gentlemen every Monday by their Copy, & scorn (then) to work one true stitch. My M. means sure to turn me into a student; for here's my book, here my desk, here my light; this my close chamber, and here my Punk: so that this dull drowsy first day of the week, makes me half a Priest, half a Chandler, half a painter, half a Sexton, I & half a Bawd: for (all this day) my office is to do nothing but keep the door. To prove it, look you, this good-face & yonder gentleman (so soon as ever my back's turned) will be nought together. Enter Hipolito.  Hip. 
Are all the windows shut?  Ser. 
Close sir, as the fist of a Courtier that hath stood in three reigns.  Hip. 
Thou art a faithful servant, and observest  
The Calendar, both of my solemn vows,  
And ceremonious sorrow: Get thee gone,  
I charge thee on thy life, let not the sound  
Of any woman's voice pierce through that door.  Ser. 
If they do, my Lord, I'll pierce some of them.  
What will your Lordship have to breakfast?  Hip. 
Sighs.  Ser. 
What to dinner?  Hip. 
Tears.  Ser. 
The one of them, my Lord, will fill you too full of wind, the other wet you too much. What to supper?  Hip. 
That which (now) thou canst not get me, the constancy of a woman.  Ser. 
Indeed that's harder to come by then ever was Ostend.  Hip. 
Prithee away.  Ser. 
I'll make away myself presently, which few Servants will do for their Lords; but rather help to make them away: Now to my doorkeeping, I hope to pick something out of it. Exit.  Hip. 
My Infaelice's face: her brow, her eye,  
The dimple on her cheek: and such sweet skill,  
Hath from the cunning workman's pencil flown,  
These lips look fresh and lively as her own,  
Seeming to move and speak. 'las I now I see,  
The reason why fond women love to buy  
Adulterate complexion: here 'tis read,  
False colours last after the true be dead.  
Of all the Roses grafted on her cheeks,  
Of all the graces dancing in her eyes,  
Of all the Music set upon her tongue,  
Of all that was past woman's excellence,  
In her white bosom, look! a painted board,  
Circumscribes all: Earth can no bliss afford.  
Nothing of her, but this? this cannot speak,  
It has no lap for me to rest upon,  
No lip worth tasting: here the worms will feed,  
As in her coffin: hence then idle Art,  
True love's best pictured in a truelove's heart.  
Here art thou drawn sweet maid, till this be dead,  
So that thou liv'st twice, twice art buried.  
Thou figure of my friend, lie there. What's here?  
Perhaps this shrewd pate was mine enemies:  
'las! say it were: I need not fear him now:  
For all his braves, his contumelious breath,  
His frowns (though dagger-pointed) all his plot,  
(Tho' near so mischievous) his Italian pills,  
His quarrels, and (that common fence) his law,  
See, see, they're all eaten out; here's not left one?  
How clean they're picked away! to the bare bone!  
How mad are mortals then to rear great names  
On tops of swelling houses? or to wear out  
Their fingers ends (in dirt,) to scrape up gold!  
Not caring so (that Sumpter-horse) the back  
Be hung with gaudy trappings, with what course,  
Yea rags most beggarly, they clothe the soul:  
Yet (after all) their Gayness looks thus foul.  
What fools are men to build a garish tomb,  
Only to save the carcase whilst it rots,  
To maintain't long in stinking, make good carrion,  
But leave no good deeds to preserve them sound,  
For good deeds keep men sweet, long above ground,  
And must all come to this; fools; wise, all hither,  
Must all heads thus at last be laid together:  
Draw me my picture then, thou grave neat workman,  
After this fashion, not like this; these colours  
In time kissing but air, will be kissed off,  
But here's a fellow; that which he lays on,  
Till dooms day, altars not complexion.  
Death's' the best Painter then: They that draw shapes,  
And live by wicked faces, are but God's Apes,  
They come but near the life, and there they stay,  
This fellow draws life to: his Art is fuller,  
The pictures which he makes are without colour.  Enter his servant. Ser. 
Here's a person would speak with you Sir.  Hip. 
Hah!  Ser. 
A parson sir would speak with you.  Hip. 
Vicar?  Ser. 
Vicar? no sir, has too good a face to be a Vicar yet, a youth, a very youth.  Hip. 
What youth? of man or woman? lock the doors.  Ser. 
If it be a woman, marrow-bones and Potato pies keep me for meddling with her, for the thing has got the breeches, 'tis a male-varlet sure my Lord, for a woman's tailor ne'er measured him.  Hip. 
Let him give thee his message and be gone.  Ser. 
He says he's signor Matheo's man, but I know he lies.  Hip. 
How dost thou know it?  Ser. 
'cause has near a beard: 'tis his boy I think sir, whosoe'er paid for his nursing.  Hip. 
Send him and keep the door. Reads.  
Fata si liceat mihi,  
Fingere arbitrio meo,  
Temperem Zephyro leuivela.  
I'd sail were I to choose, not in the Ocean,  
Cedars are shaken, when shrubs do feel no bruise▪  Enter Bellafronte like a Page. 
How? from Mathaeo.  Bell. 
Yes my Lord.  Hip. 
Art sick?  Bell. 
Not all in health my Lord.  Hip. 
Keep off.  Belle. 
I do:  
Hard fate when women are compelled to woo.  Hip. 
This paper does speak nothing.  Bell. 
Yes my Lord,  
Matter of life it speaks, and therefore writ  
In hidden Character; to me instruction  
My master gives, And (less you please to stay  
Till you both meet) I can the text display.  Hip. 
Do so: read out.  Bell. 
I am already out:  
Look on my face, and read the strangest story!  Hip. 
What villain, ho? Enter his servant.  Ser. 
Call you my Lord?  Hip. 
Thou slave, thou hast let in the devil.  Ser. 
Lord bless us, where? he's not cloven my Lord that I can see: besides the devil goes more like a Gentleman than a Page: good my Lord Boon couragio.  Hip. 
Thou hast let in a woman in man's shape.  
And thou art damned for't.  Ser. 
Not damned I hope for putting in a woman to a Lord.  Hip. 
Fetch me my Rapier,— do not: I shall kill thee.  
Purge this infected chamber of that plague,  
That runs upon me thus: Slave, thrust her hence.  Ser. 
Alas my Lord, I shall never be able to thrust her hence without help: come Mermaid you must to Sea again.  Bell. 
hear me but speak, my words shall be all Music:  
hear me but speak.  Hip. 
Another beats the door,  
Tother She-devil, look.  Ser. 
Why then hell's broke loose. Exit.  Hip. 
Hence, guard the chamber: let no more come on,  
One woman serves for man's damnation.  
Beshrew thee, thou dost make me violate,  
The chastest and most sanctimonious vow,  
That ere was entered in the court of heaven:  
I was on meditations spotless wings,  
upon my journey thither; like a storm  
Thou beats my ripened cogitations,  
flat to the ground: and like a thief dost stand,  
To steal devotion from the holy land.  Bel. 
If woman were thy mother; if thy heart,  
be not all Marble, (or if't Marble be)  
Let my tears soften it, to pity me,  
I do beseech the do not thus with scorn,  
Destroy a woman.  Hip. 
Woman I beseech thee,  
Get thee some other suit, this fits thee not,  
I would not grant it to a kneeling Queen,  
I cannot love thee, nor I must not: See,  
The copy of that obligation,  
Where my soul's bound in heavy penalties.  Bel. 
She's dead you told me, she'll let fall her suit.  Hip. 
My vows to her, fled after her to heaven,  
Were thine eyes clear as mine, thou mightst behold her,  
Watching upon yond battlements of stars,  
How I observe them: should I break my bond,  
This board would rive in twain, these wooden lips  
Call me most perjured villain, let it suffice,  
I ha' set thee in the path; be't not a sign,  
I love thee, when with one so most most dear,  
I'll have thee fellows? All are fellows there.  Bel. 
Be greater than a king, save not a body,  
But from eternal shipwreck keep a soul,  
If not, and that again, sins path I tread,  
The grief be mine, the guilt fall on thy head.  Hip. 
Stay and take Physic for it, read this book,  
Ask counsel of this head what's to be done,  
He'll strike it dead that 'tis damnation,  
If you turn Turk again, oh do it not,  
The heaven cannot allure you to do well  
From doing ill let hell fright you: and learn this,  
The soul whose bosom lust did never touch,  
Is God's fair bride, and maiden's souls are such:  
The soul that leaving chastities white shore,  
Swims in hot sensual streams, is the devils whore,  
How now: who comes. Enter his servant.  Ser. 
No more knaves my Lord that wear smocks: here's a letter from doctor Benedict; I would not enter his man, though he had hairs at his mouth, for fear he should be a woman, for some women have beards, mary they are half witches, Slid you are a sweet youth to wear a codpiece, and have no pings to stick upon't.  Hip. 
I'll meet the doctor, tell him, yet tonight  
I cannot: but at morrow rising Sun  
I will not fail: go: woman fare thee well. Exeunt.  Bel. 
The lowest fall can be but into hell,  
It does not move him. I must therefore fly,  
From this undoing City, and with tears,  
Wash off all anger from my father's brow,  
He cannot sure but joy seeing me new borne,  
A woman honest first and then turn whore,  
Is (as with me) common to thousands more,  
But from a strumpet to turn chaste: that sound,  
Has oft been heard, that woman hardly found. Exit.   

11. SCE.  Enter Fustigo, Crambo and Poli. Fus. 
Hold up your hands gentlemen: here's one, two, three, (nay I warrant they are sound pistols, and without flaws, I had them (of my sister, and I know she uses to put nothing that's cracked,) three, four, five, six, seven, eight and nine, by this hand bring me but a piece of his blood. and you shall have 9. more. I'll lurk in a tavern not far off, & provide supper to close up the end of the Tragedy, the linen drapers remēber-stand to't I beseech you, & play your parts perfectly.  Cram. 
Look you signor, 'tis not your gold that we way.  Fust. 
Nay, nay, way it and spare not, if it lack one grain of corn;  
I'll give you a bushel of wheat to make it up.  Cram. 
But by your favour signor, which of the servants is it, because we'll punish justly.  Fust. 
Mary 'tis the head man; you shall razed him by his tongue a pretty tall prating fellow, with a Tuscalonian beard.  Po. 
Tuscalonian: very good.  Fust. 
cod's life I was near so thrummed since I was a gentleman: my coxcomb was dry beaten as if my hair had been hemp.  Cram. 
We'll dry beat some of them.  Fust. 
Nay it grew so high, that my sister cried murder out very manfully: I have her consent in a manner to have him peppered, else i'll not do't to win more than ten cheaters do at a rifling: break but his pate or so, only his mazer, because i'll have his head in a cloth as well as mine, he's a linen draper and may take enough. I could enter mine action of battery against him, but we may haps be both dead and rotten before the lawyers would end it.  Cram. 
No more to do, but ensconce yourself i'th' tavern; provide no great cheat, couple of Capons, some Pheasants, Plovers, an Oringeado-pie or so: but how bloody soe'er the day be, sally you not forth.  Fust. 
No, no, nay if I stir, somebody shall stink: i'll not budge: i'll lie like a dog in a manger.  Cram. 
Well, well, to the tavern, let not our supper be raw, for you shall have blood enough-your belly full.  Fust. 
That's all so god same, I thirst after, blood for blood, bump for bump, nose for nose, head for head, plaster for plaster, and so farewell: what shall I call your names because i'll leave word, if any such come to the bar.  Cram. 
My name is Corporal Crambo.  Poh. 
and mine, Lieutenant Poh. Exeunt.  Cram. 
Poli. Is as tall a man as ever opened Oyster: I would not be the devil to meet Poh, farewell.  Fust. 
Nor I by this light, if Poh be such a Poh. Exeunt.  Enter Condido's wife, in her shop, and the two Premises. Wife. 
What's o'clock now.  2. Pren. 
'tis almost 12.  Wife. 
That's well.  
The Senate will leave wording presently:  
But is George ready,  2. Pre. 
Yes forsooth, he's surbusht.  Wife. 
Now as you ever hope to win my favour,  
Throw both your duties and respects on him,  
With the like awe as if he were your master,  
Let not your looks betray it with a smile,  
Or jeering glance to any customer,  
Keep a true Settled countenance, and beware,  
You laugh not whatsoever you hear or see.  2. Pren. 
I warrant you mistress, let us alone for keeping our countenance: for if I list, there's never a fool in all Milan shall make me laugh, let him play the fool never so like an Ass, whether it be the fat Court fool, or the lean City fool.  Wife. 
enough then, call down George.  2. Pren. 
I hear him coming.  Enter George. Wife. 
Be ready with your legs then let me see,  
How curtsy would become him: gallantly!  
Beshrew my blood a proper seemly man,  
Of a choice carriage walks with a good port,  Geo. 
I thank you mistress, my back's broad enough, now my masters gown's on.  Wif. 
Sure I should think it were the least of sin,  
To mistake the master, and to let him in.  Geo. 
'twere a good Comedy of errors that i'faith.  2. Pre. 
whist, whist, my master.  Enter Candido, and Exit presently. Wif. 
You all know your tasks: gods my life, what's that he has got upon's back? who can tell?  Geo. 
That can I, but I will not.  Wife. 
Girt about him like a madman: what: has he lost his cloak too: this is the maddest fashion that ere I saw.  

What said he George when he paced by thee?   Geo. 
Troth Mistress nothing: not so much as a Bee, he did not hum: not so much as a bawd he did not hem: not so much as a cuckold he did not ha': neither hum, hem, nor ha, only stared me in the face, passed along, and made haste in, as if my looks had worked with him, to give him a stool.  Wi. 
Sure he's vexed now, this trick has moved his Spleen,  
he's angered now, because he uttered nothing:  
And wordless wrath breaks out more violent,  
May be he'll strive for place, when he comes down,  
But if thou lov'st me George, afford him none.  Geo. 
Nay let me alone to play my masters prize, as long as my Mistress warrants me: I'm sure I have his best clothes on, and I scorn to give place to any that is inferior in apparel to me, that's an Axiom, a principle, & is observed as much as the fashion; let that persuade you then, that lie shoulder with him for the upper hand in the shop, as long as this chain will maintain it.  Wi. 
Spoke with the spirit of a Master, though with the tongue of a Prentice.  Enter Candido like a Prentice. 
Why how now madman? what in your tricksicoates!  Cand. 
O peace good Mistress: Enter Crambo and Poli. See what you lack, what be't you buy? pure Calicoes, fine Hollands, choice cambrics, neat Lawns: see what you buy? pray come near, my Master will use you well, he can afford you a pennyworth.  Wi. 
I that he can, out of a whole piece of Lawn i'faith.  Cand. 
Pray see your choice here Gentlemen.  Wi. 
O fine fool? what a madman? a patient madman? whoever heard of the like? well sir I'll fit you and your humour presently: what? cross-points, I'll untie 'em all in a trice, I'll vex you faith: Boy take your cloak, quick, come. Exit.  Cand. 
Be covered George, this chain, and welted gown, Bore to this coat: then the world's upside down.  Geo. 
umh, umh, hum.  Cram. 
That's the shop, and there's the fellow.  Poli. 
ay but the Master is walking in there.  Cram. 
No matter, we'll in.  Poh. 
'sblood dost long to lie in Limbo?  Cram. 
And Limbo be in hell, I care not.  Cand. 
Look you Gentlemen, your choice: cambrics?  Cramb. 
No sir, some shirting.  Cand. 
You shall.  Cram. 
Have you none of this striped Canvas for doublets.  Cand. 
None striped sir, but plain.  2. Pren. 
I think there be one piece striped within.  Geo. 
Step sirrah and fetch it, hum, hum hum.  Cand. 
Look you Gentlemen, I'll make but one spreading, here's a piece of cloth, fine, yet shall wear like Iron, 'tis without fault, take this upon my word, 'tis without fault.  Cram. 
Then 'tis better than you sirrah.  Cand. 
ay, and a number more, o that each soul  
Were but as spotless as this Innocent white,  
And had as few brakes in it.  Cram. 
'twould have some then: there was a fray here last day in this shop.  Cand. 
There was indeed a little flea-biting.  Poh. 
A Gentleman had his pate broke, call you that but a flea-biting.  Cand. 
He had so.  Cram. 
zounds do you stand in't? He strikes him.  Geo. 
'sfoot clubs, clubs, prentices, down with 'em, ah you rogues, strike a Citizen in's shop.  Cand. 
None of you stir I pray, forbear good George.  Cram. 
I beseech you sir, we mistook our marks, delivers us our weapons.  Geo. 
Your head bleeds sir, cry clubs.  Cand. 
I say you shall not, pray be patient,  
Give them their weapons, sirs you're best be gone,  
I tell you here are boys more tough than Bears:  
Hence, lest more fists do walk about your ears.  Both. 
We thank you sir. Exeunt,  Gan. 
You shall not follow them.  
Let them alone pray, this did me no harm,  
Troth I was cold, and the blow made me warm,  
I thank 'em for't: beside I had decreed  
To have a vain pricked, I did mean to bleed,  
So that there's money saved: they are honest men,  
Pray use 'em well, when they appear again.  Geo. 
Yes sir, we'll use 'em like honest men.  Cand. 
I well said George, like honest men, though they be arrant knaves, for that's the praise of the city; help to lay up these wares  Enter his wife, with Officers. Wife. 
Yonder he stands.  Off 
What in a Prentice-coat?  Wif. 
ay, ay, mad, mad, pray take heed.  Cand. 
How now? what news with them? what make they with my wife? officers is she attached? look to your wares.  Wif. 
He talks to himself, oh he's much gone indeed.  Off. 
Pray pluck up a good heart, be not so fearful,  
Sirs hark, we'll gather to him by degrees.  Wi. 
ay, ay, by degrees I pray: oh me! what makes he with the Lawn in his hand, he'll tear all the ware in my shop.  Off. 
Fear not we'll catch him on a sudden.  Wi. 
O you had needs do so, pray take heed of your warrant  Off. 
I warrant mistress.— Now signor Candido?  Cand. 
Now sir, what news with you sir?  Wi. 
What news with you he says: oh he's far gone.  Off. 
I pray fear nothing, let's alone with him,  
signor, you look not like yourself methinks,  
(Steal you a other side) you're changed, you're altered.  Cand. 
Changed sir, why true sir, is change strange, 'tis not the fashion unless it alter: monarch turn to beggars; beggars creep into the nests of Princes, Masters serve their prentices: Ladies their servingmen, men turn to women.  Off 
And women turn to men.  Cand. 
ay, and women turn to men, you say true, ha ha, a mad world, a mad world.  Off. 
Have we caught you sir?  Cand. 
Caught me: well, well: you have caught: me.  Wi. 
He laughs in your faces.  Geo 
A rescue Prentices, my master's catchpole.  Off. 
I charge you keep the peace, or have your legs gartered with Irons, we have from the Duke a warrant strong enough for what we do.  Cand. 
I pray rest quiet, I desire no rescue.  Wi. 
La: he desires no rescue, I as poor heart,  
He talks against himself.  Cand. 
Well, what's the matter?  Off. 
Look to that arm,  
Pray make sure work, double the cord.  Cand. 
Why, why?  Wi. 
Look how his head goes! should he get but lose,  
Oh 'twere as much as all our lives were worth.  Off. 
Fear not, we'll make all sure for our own safety.  Cand. 
Are you at leisure now? well, what's the matter?  
Why do I enter into bonds thus? ha?  Off. 
Because you're mad, put fear upon your wife.  Wi. 
Oh ay, I went in danger of my life, every minute.  Cand. 
What? am I mad say you, and I not know it?  Off. 
That proves you mad, because you know it not.  Wife 
Pray talk as little to him as you can,  
You see he's too far spent.  Cand. 
Bound with strong cord,  
A sister's thread i'faith had been enough,  
To lead me anywhere: Wife do you long?  
You are mad too, or else you do me wrong.  Geo. 
But are you mad indeed Master?  Cand. 
My Wife says so,  
And what she says; George, is all truth you know:  
And whether now? to Bethlem Monastery?— ha! whether?  Off. 
Faith e'en to the madmen's pound.  Cand. 
A God's name, still I feel my patience sound. Exe.  Geo. 
Come we'll see whether he goes, if the master be mad, we are his servants, and must follow his steps, we'll be mad caps too; Farewell mistress, you shall have us all in Bedlam. Exeunt.  Wi. 
I think, I ha' fitted now, you and your clothes,  
If this move not his patience, nothing can,  
I'll swear then I have a saint, and not a man Exit.   

13. SCE.  Enter Duke: Doctor: Fluello, Castruchio, Pioratto. Duk. 
give us a little leave. Doctor your news.  Doc. 
I sent for him my Lord: at last he came,  
And did receive all speech that went from me,  
As gilded pills made to prolong his health:  
My credit with him wrought it: for, some men.  
Swallow even empty hooks, like fools. that fear  
No drowning where 'tis deepest, Cause 'tis clear:  
In th'end we sat and eat: a health I drank  
To Infaelice's sweet departed soul,  
(This train I knew would take.)  Duk. 
'twas excellent.  Doc. 
He fell with such devotion on his knees,  
To pledge the same.  Duk. 
Fond superstitious fool?  Doc. 
That had he been inflamed with zeal of prayer,  
He could not power't out with more reverence.  
About my neck he hung, wept on my cheek,  
Kissed it, and swore, he would adore my lips,  
Because they brought forth Infaelice's name.  Duk. 
Ha, ha, alack, alack.  Doc. 
The cup he lifts up high, and thus he said,  
Here noble maid: drinks, and was poisoned.  Duk. 
and died?  Doc. 
And died my Lord.  Duk. 
Thou in that word,  
Hast pieced mine aged hours out with more years,  
Than thou hast taken from Hipolito,  
A noble youth he was, but lesser branches  
Hindering the greater's growth, must be lopped off,  
And feed the fire: Doctor we're now all thine,  
And use us so: be bold.  Doc. 
Thanks gracious Lord:  
My honoured Lord:  Duk. 
hmh.  Doc. 
I do beseech your grace to bury deep,  
This bloody act of mine.  Duk. 
Nay, nay, for that,  
Doctor look you to't: me it shall not move,  
Their cursed that ill do, not that ill do love,  Doc. 
You throw an angry forehead on my face,  
But be you pleased, backward thus for to look,  
That for your good, this evil I undertook,  Duk. 
ay, ay, we construe so:  Doc. 
And only for your love.  Duk. 
Confessed: 'tis true.  Doc. 
Nor let it stand against me as a bar,  
To thrust me from your presence: nor believe  
(As Princes have quick thoughts,) that now my finger  
Being dipped in blood, I will not spare the hand,  
But that for gold (as what can gold not do?)  
I may be hired to work the like on you,  Duk. 
Which to prevent.  Doc. 
'tis from my heart as far.  Duk. 
No matter Doctor, cause i'll fearless sleep,  
And that you shall stand clear of that suspicion  
I banish thee for ever from my court.  
This principle is old but true as fate,  
Kings may love treason, but the traitor hate, Exit.  Doc. 
be't so: nay then Duke, your stale principle  
With one as stale, the Doctor thus shall quit,  
He falls himself that digs another's pit,  
How now: where is he? will he meet me:  Enter the doctor's man. Doc. man, 
meet you sir, he might have met with three fencers in this time and have received less hurt than by meeting one Doctor of Physic: why sir has walked under the old Abbey wall yonder this hour, till he's more cold than a citizens country house in January, you may smell him behind sir; la you: yonder he comes.  Doc. 
leave me. Enter Hipolito.  Doc. man. 
Itch lurch if you will. Exit.  Do. 
O my most noble friend.  Hip. 
Few but yourself,  
Could have intied me thus, to trust the Air,  
With my close sighs, you send for me: what news?  Doc. 
Come you must doff this black: die that pale cheek,  
Into his own colour; go: Attire yourself  
Fresh as a bridegroom, when he meets his bride,  
The Duke has done much treason to thy love,  
'tis now revealed, 'tis now to be revenged,  
Be merry honoured friend, thy Lady lives.  Hip. 
What Lady?  Doc. 
Infaelice, she's revived;  
revived: alack! death never had the heart,  
To take breath from her.  Hip. 
umh: I thank you sir,  
Physic prolongs life, when it cannot save,  
This helps not my hopes. mine are in their grave:  
You do some wrong to mock me.  Doc. 
By that love,  
Which I have ever borne you, what I speak  
Is truth: the maiden lives: that funeral,  
Duke's tears, the morning, was all counterfeit,  
A sleepy draft cozened the world and you,  
I was his minister and then chambered up,  
To stop discovery.  Hip. 
O treacherous Duke:  Doc. 
He cannot hope so certainly for bliss:  
As he believes that I have poisoned you,  
He wooed me to't, I yielded, and confirmed him,  
In his most bloody thoughts.  Hip. 
A very devil!  Doc. 
Her did he closely coach to Bergamo,  
And thither?  Hip. 
Will I ride, stood Bergamo,  
In the low countries of black hell, i'll to her.  Doc. 
You shall to her, but not to Bergamo,  
How passion makes you fly beyond yourself.  
Much of that weary journey iha cut off,  
For she by letters hath intelligence,  
Of your supposed death, her own interment,  
And all those plots, which that false Duke, (her father)  
Has wrought against you: And she'll meet you.  Hip. 
O when:  Doc. 
Nay see: how covetous are your desires,  
easily tomorrow morn.  Hip. 
O where good father.  Doc. 
At Bethlem monastery: are you pleased now?  Hip, 
At Bethlem monastery: the place well fits,  
It is the school where those that lose their wits,  
practice again to get them: I am sick  
Of that disease, all love is lunatic.  Doc. 
we'll steal away, this night in some disguise,  
Father Anselmo, a most reverend Friar,  
Expects our coming, before whom we'll lay,  
Reasons so strong, that he shall yield, in bonds,  
Oh holy wedlock, to tie both your hands.  Hip. 
This is such happiness:  
That to believe it, 'tis impossible.  Doc. 
Let all your joys then die in misbelief,  
I will reveal no more.  Hip. 
O yes good father,  
I am so well acquainted with despair,  
I know not how to hope: I believe all.  Doc. 
we'll hence this night, much must be done, much said  
But if the Doctor fail not in his charms,  
Your Lady shall ere morning fill these arms.  Hip. 
heavenly Physician: far thy fame shall spread,  
That mak'st two lovers speak when they be dead.  Exeunt. Candido's wife, and George: Pioratto meets them. Wi. 
O watch good George, watch which way the Duke comes.  Geo. 
Here comes one of the butter flies, ask him.  Wi. 
Pray sir, comes the duke this way.  Pio. 
He's upon coming mistress. Exit.  Wi. 
I thank you sir: George are there many mad-folks, where thy Master lies.  Geo. 
O yes, of all countries some, but especially mad greeks they swarm: troth mistress, the world is altered with you, you had not wont to stand thus with a paper humbly complaining: but you're well enough served: provender pricked you, as it does many of our City-wives beside.  Wif. 
Dost think George we shall get him forth.  Ge. 
Truly mistress I cannot tell, I think you'll hardly get him forth: why 'tis strange! 'sfoot I have known many women that have had mad rascals to their husbands, whom they would belabour by all means possible to keep 'em in their right wits, but of a woman too long to turn a tame man into a madman, why the devil himself was never used so by his dam.  Wif. 
How does he talk George! ha! good George tell me.  Geo. 
Why your best go see.  Wif. 
Alas I am afraid.  Geo. 
Afraid! you had more need be ashamed: he may rather be afraid of you.  Wif. 
But George he's not stark mad, is he? he does not rave, he's not horn-mad George is he?  Geo. 
Nay I know not that, but he talks like a justice of peace, of a thousand matters and to no purpose.  Wif. 
I'll to the monastery: I shall be mad till I enjoy him, I shallbe sick till I see him, yet when I do see him, I shall weep out mine eyes.  Geo. 
ay, i'd fain see a woman weep out her eyes; that's as true, as to say, a man's cloak burns; when it hangs in the water: I know you'll weep mistress, but what says the painted cloth.  

Trust not a woman when she cries,  
For she'll pump water from her eyes,  
With a wet finger, and in faster showers,  
Than April when he rains down flowers.   Wif. 
ay but George, that painted cloth is worthy to be hanged up for lying, all women have not tears at will, unless they have good cause.  Geo. 
ay but mistress how easily will they find a cause, and as one of our Cheese-trenchers says very learnedly:  

As out of Wormwood Bees suck Honey,  
As from poor clients Lawyers firk money,  
As Parsley from a roasted coney.  
So though the day be near so sunny,  
If wives will have it rain, down then it drives,  
The calmest husbands make the stormest wives,   Wif. 
Tame George, but I had on storming now.  Geo. 
Why that's well done, good mistress throw aside this fashion of your humour, be not so fantastical in wearing it, storm no more, long no more.— This longing has made you come short of many a good thing that you might have had from my Master: Here comes the Duke.  Enter Duke, Fluello, Pioratto, Sinere. Wife. 
Oh I beseech you pardon my offence,  
In that I durst abuse your Graces warrant,  
Deliver forth my husband good my Lord.  Duke. 
Who is her husband?  Flu. 
Candido my Lord,  Duke. 
Where is he?  Wif. 
he's among the lunatics,  
He was a man made up without a gall,  
Nothing could move him, nothing could convert  
His meek blood into fury, yet like a monster,  
I often beat at the most constant rock  
Of his unshaken patience, and did long  
To vex him.  Duk. 
Did you so?  Wife. 
And for that purpose,  
Had warrant from your Grace, to carry him  
To Bethlem Monastery, whence they will not free him,  
Without your grace's hand that sent him in.  Duke. 
You have longed fair; 'tis you are mad I fear,  
It's fit to fetch him thence, and keep you there:  
If he be mad, why would you have him forth?  Geo. 
And please your grace, he's not stark mad, but only talks like a young Gentleman, somewhat fantastically, that's all: there's a thousand about your court, city and country madder than he.  Duk. 
Provide a warrant, you shall have our hand.  Geo. 
Here's a warrant ready drawn my Lord.  Cast. 
Get pen & Ink, get pen & ink: Enter Castruchio.  Cast 
Where is my Lord the Duke?  Duke. 
How now? more mad men.  Cast. 
I have strange news my Lord.  Duk. 
Of what? of whom?  Cast. 
Of Infaelice, and a marriage.  Du. 
Ha! where? with whom.  Cast. 
Hipolito.  Geo. 
Here my Lord.  Du. 
Hence with that woman, void the room.  Flu. 
Away, the Duke's vexed.  Geo. 
Whoop, come mistress the Duke's mad too. Exeunt.  Du. 
Who told me that Hipolito was dead?  Cast. 
He that can make any man dead, the Doctor: but my Lord, he's as full of life as wildfire, and as quick: Hipolito, the Doctor, and one more rid hence this evening; the Inn at which they light is Bethlem monastery: Infaeliche comes from Bergamo, and meets them there: Hipolito is mad, for he means this day to be married, the afternoon is the hour, and friar Anselmo is the knitter.  Du. 
From Bergamo? be't possible? it cannot be,  
It cannot be.  Cast. 
I will not swear my Lord,  
But this intelligence I took from one,  
Whose brains works in the plot.  Du. 
What's he?  Cast. 
Mathaeo.  Flu. 
Mathaeo knows all.  Pio. 
he's Hipolito's bosom.  Duke. 
How far stands Bethlem hence?  Omn. 
Six or seven miles.  Duke. 
be't even so, not married till the afternoon you say?  
Stay, stay, let's work out some prevention: how:  
This is most strange, can none but madmen serve  
To dress their wedding dinner? All of you,  
Get presently to horse; disguise yourselves  
Like country-gentlemen,  
Or riding citizens, or so: and take  
Each man a several path, but let us meet,  
At Bethlem Monastery, some space of time  
Being spent between the arrival each of other,  
As if we came to see the Lunatics.  
To horse, away, be secret on your lives,  
Love must be punished that unjustly thrives. Exeunt.  Flu. 
Be secret on your lives! Castruchio  
You're but a scurvy Spaniel; honest Lord,  
Good Lady: Zounds their love is just, 'tis good,  
And I'll prevent you, though I swim in blood. Exit.  Enter Friar Anselmo, Hipolito, Mathaeo, Infaeliche. Hip. 
Nay, nay, resolve good father, or deny.  Ans. 
You press me to an act, both full of danger,  
And full of happiness, for I behold.  
Your father's frowns, his threats, nay perhaps death,  
To him that dare do this, yet noble Lord,  
Such comfortable beams break through these clouds,  
By this blessed marriage, that your honoured word  
Being pawned in my defence) I will tie fast,  
The holy wedding Knot.  Hip. 
Tush fear not the Duke.  Ans. 
O son, wisely to fear: Is to be free from fear.  Hip. 
You have our words, and you shall have our lives,  
To guard you safe from all ensuing danger.  Ma. 
ay, ay, chop 'em up and away.  Ans. 
Stay, when be't fit for me, safest for you,  
To entertain this business.  Hip. 
Not till the evening.  Ans. 
Be't so, there is a chapel stands hard by,  
Upon the West end of the Abbey wall,  
Thither convey yourselves, and when the sun  
Hath turned his back upon this upper world,  
I'll marry you, that done, no thundering voice,  
Can break the sacred bond, yet Lady here you are most safe.  Infae. 
Father your love's most dear.  Mat. 
I well said lock us into some little room by ourselves that we may be mad for an hour or two.  Hip. 
O good Mathaeo no, let's make no noise.  Mat. 
How! no noise! do you know where you are: 'sfoot amongst all the madcaps in Milan: so that to throw the house out at window will be the better, & no man will suspect that we lurk here to steal mutton: the more sober we are, the more scurvy 'tis. And though the Friar tell us, that here we are safest, i'm not of his mind, for if those lay here that had lost there money, none would ever look after them, but hear are none but those that have lost their wits, o that if hue and cry be made, hither they'll come, and my reason is, because none goes to be married till he be stark mad.  Hip. 
Muffle yourselves yonder's Fluello. Enter Fluello.  Ma. 
Zounds!  Flu. 
O my Lord these cloaks are not for this rain, the tempest is too great: I come sweating to tell you of it, that you may get out of it.  Mat. 
Why what's the matter.  Flu. 
What's the matter! you have mattered it fair: the duke's at hand.  Onm. 
The Duke?  Flu. 
The very Duke.  Hip. 
Then all our plots are turned upon our heads; and we are blown up with our own underminings. 'sfoot how comes he, what villain durst betray our being here.  Flu: 
Castruchio, Castruchio told the Duke, and Mathaeo here told Castruchio.  Hip. 
Would you betray me to Castruchio,  Ma. 
'sfoot he damned himself to the pit of hell if he spoke on't again.  Hip. 
So did you swear to me, so were you damned.  Mat. 
Pox on 'em, & there be no faith in men, if a man shall not believe oaths: he took bread and salt by this light, that he would never open his lips.  Hip. 
Oh God, oh God.  Ans. 
Son be not desperate have patience, you shall trip your enemy down, by his own slights, how far is the Duke hence.  Flu. 
he's but new set out: Castruchio, Pioratto and Sinezi come along with him: you have time enough yet to prevent them if you have but courage.  Ans. 
You shall steal secretly into the Chapel,  
And presently be married; if the duke  
Abide here still, spite of ten thousand eyes,  
You shall scape hence like Friars.  Hip. 
O blessed disguised: O happy man.  Ans. 
Talk not of happiness till your closed hand,  
Have her byth' forehead, like the lock of time,  
be not too slow, nor hasty, now you climb,  
Up to the tower of bliss, only be wary  
And patient, that's all, if you like my plot  
Build and dispatch, if not farewell, than not.  Hip. 
O Yes, we do applaud it, we'll dispute,  
No longer, but will hence and execute.  
Fluello you'll stay here, let us be gone,  
The ground that freighted lovers tread upon,  
Is stuck with thorns.  Ans. 
Come then, away: 'tis meet,  
To escape those thorns, to put on winged feet. Exeunt.  Mat. 
No words I pray Fluello, for it stands us upon.  Flu. 
Oh sir, let that be your lesson.  
Alas poor lovers, on what hopes and fears,  
Men toss themselves for women. when she's got  
The best has in her that which pleaseth not.  Enter to Fluello, the Duke, Castruchio, Pioratto and Sinezi from several doors muffled. Duk. 
whose's there!  Cast. 
My Lord.  Duk. 
Peace, send that Lord away,  
A Lordship will spoil all, let's be all fellows.  
What's he.  Cast. 
Fluello, or else Sinezi by his little legs.  Omn. 
All friends, all friends.  Duk. 
What! met upon the very point of time,  
Is this the place.  Pio. 
This is the place my Lord.  Duke. 
Dream you on Lordships! come no more Lords: pray  
You have not seen these lovers yet.  Omn. 
Not yet.  Duk. 
Castruchio art thou sure this wedding feat,  
Is not till afternoon?  Castr. 
So 'tis given out my Lord.  Duk. 
Nay, nay, 'tis like, thieves must observe their hours,  
Lovers watch minutes like Astronomers,  
How shall the Interim hours by us be spent,  Flu. 
Let's all go see the madmen.  Omn. 
Mas content. Enter Town like a sweeper.  Duk. 
Oh here comes one, question him, question him.  Flu. 
How now honest fellow dost thou belong to the house.  Tow. 
yes forsooth, I am one of the implements; I sweep the madmen's rooms, and fetch straw for 'em, and buy chains to tie 'em, and rods to whip 'em, I was a mad wag myself here once, but I thank father Anselm he lashed me into my right mind again.  Duk. 
Anselmo is the Friar must marry them,  
Question him where he is,  Cast. 
And where is father Anselmo now?  Tow. 
Mary he's gone but e'en now.  Duk. 
ay, well done, tell me, whether is he gone?  Tow. 
Why to God a mighty.  Flu. 
Ha, ha, this fellow is a fool, talks idly.  Pio. 
Sirrah are all the mad folks in Milan brought hither?  Tow. 
How all, there's a wise question indeed: why if all the mad folks in Milan should come hither, there would not be left ten men in the City.  Duk. 
Few gentlemen or Courtiers here, ha.  Tow. 
Oh yes? abundance, abundance, lands no sooner fall into their hands, but straight they run out o' their wits: Citizens sons & heirs are free of the house by their father's copy: farmers' sons come hither like geese (in flocks) & when they ha' sold all their corn fields, here they sit & pick the straws.  Sin. 
methinks you should have women here aswell as men.  Tow. 
Oh, I: a plague on 'em, there's no ho with them, they are madder than march hairs.  Flu. 
Are there no lawyers here amongst you?  Tow. 
Oh no, not one: never any lawyer, we dare not let a lawyer come in, for he'll make 'em mad faster than we can recover 'em.  Du. 
And how long be't ere you recover any of these.  Tow. 
Why according to the quantity of the Moon that's got into 'em, an Alderman's son will be mad a great while a very great while, especially if his friends left him well, a whore will hardly come to her wits again: a Puritan there's no hope of him, unless he may pull down the steeple and hang himself i'th' bell-ropes.  Flu. 
I perceive all sorts of fish come to your net.  Tow. 
Yes in truth, we have blocks for all heads, we have good store of wild oats here: for the Courtier is mad at the Citizen, the Citizen is mad at the Country men, the shoemaker is mad at the cobbler, the cobbler at the carman the punk is mad that the merchants wife is no whore, the merchants wife is mad that the punk is so common a whore: gods so, here's father Anselmo. pray say nothing that I tell tales out of the school. Exit.  Omn. 
God bless you father. Enter Anselmo.  Ans. 
Thank you gentlemen.  Cast. 
Pray may we see some of those wretched Souls,  
That here are in your keeping?  Ans. 
Yes: you shall,  
But gentlemen I must disarm you then,  
There are of mad men, as there are of tame,  
All humoured not alike: we have here some,  
So apish and fantastic, play with a feather,  
And though 'twould grieve a soul, to see God's image,  
So blemished and defaced, yet do they act  
Such antic and such pretty lunacies,  
That spite of sorrow they will make you smile:  
Others again we have like hungry Lions,  
Fierce as wild Bulls, untameable as flies,  
And these have oftentimes from stranger's sides  
Snatched rapiers suddenly, and done much harm,  
Whom if you'll see, you must be weaponless.  Omn. 
With all our hearts.  Ans. 
Here: take these weapons in,  
Stand of a little pray, so, so, 'tis well:  
I'll show you here a man that was sometimes,  
A very grave and wealthy Citizen,  
Has served a prenticeship to this misfortune,  
been here seven years, and dwelled in Bergamo.  Duke. 
How fell he from his wits?  Ans. 
By loss at Sea:  
I'll stand aside, question him you alone,  
For if he spy me, he'll not speak a word,  
Unless he's thoroughly vexed. Discovers an old man, wrapped in a Net.  Flu. 
Alas poor soul.  Cast. 
A very old man.  Duk. 
God speed father.  1. Mad. 
God speed the plough: thou shalt not speed me.  Pio. 
We see you old man, for all you dance in a net.  1. Mad. 
True, but thou wilt dance in a halter, & I shall not see thee.  Ans. 
O, do not vex him pray.  Cast. 
Are you a Fisherman father?  1. Mad. 
No, i'm neither fish nor flesh.  Flu. 
What do you with that net then?  1. Mad. 
Dost not see fool! there's a fresh Salmon in't: if you step one foot further, you'll be over shoes, for you see i'm over head & ear in the salt-water: & if you fall into this whirlpool where I am, you're drowned: you're a drowned rat.— I am fishing here for five ships, but I cannot have a good draft, for my net breaks still, and breaks, but I'll break some of your necks & I catch you in my clutches. Stay, stay, stay, stay— where's the wind, where's the wind, where's the wind: where's the wind: out you gulls, you goose-caps, you gudgeon eaters! do you look for the wind in the heavens? ha ha ha ha, no no, look there, look there, look there, the wind is always at that door: hark how it blows, pooff pooff, pooff.  Omn. 
Ha ha ha.  1. Mad. 
Do you laugh at God's creatures? do you mock old age you rogues? is this grey beard and head counterfeit, that you cry ha ha ha?— Sirrah, art not thou my eldest son?  Pior. 
Yes indeed father.  1. Mad. 
Then thouart a fool, for my eldest son had a polt foot, crooked legs, a vergis face, & a pear-coloured beard; I made him a scholar, and he made himself a fool.— Sirrah! thou there? hold out thy hand.  Du. 
My hand, well, here 'tis.  1. Mad. 
Look, look, look, look: has he not long nails, and short hair?  Flu. 
Yes monstrous short hair, and abominable long nails.  1. Ma. 
Tenpenny nails are they not?  Flu. 
Yes ten penny nails.  1. Mad. 
Such nails had my second boy: kneel down thou varlet, and ask thy father blessing. Such nails had my middlemost son and I made him a Promoter: & he scrapped, & scrapped, & scrapped, till he got the devil and all: but he scrapped thus and thus, & thus, and it went under his legs, till at length a company of Kites taking him for carrion, swept up all, all, all all, all, all, all.— If you love your lives, look to yourselves, see, see, see, see, the Turks galleys are fighting with my ships, bounce goes the guns.— oooh! cry the men: rumble rumble go the waters— Alas! there! 'tis sunk— 'tis sunk: I am undone, I am undone, you are the damned Pirates have undone me,— you are byth' Lord, you are, you are, stop 'em, you are.  Ans. 
Why how now sirrah, must I fall to tame you?  1. Mad. 
Tame me? no: i'll be madder than a roasted Cat: see, see, I am burnt with gunpowder, these are our close fights.  Ans. 
I'll whip you, if you grow unruly thus.  1. Mad. 
Whip me? out you toad:— whip me? what justice is this, to whip me because I'm a beggar?— Alas? I am a poor man: a very poor man: I am starved, and have had no meat by this light, ever since the great flood, I am a poor man.  Ans. 
Well, well; be quiet and you shall have meat.  1. Mad. 
ay, ay, pray do, for look you, here be my guts: these are my ribs,— you may look through my ribs,— see how my guts come out— these are my red guts, my very guts, oh, oh!  Ansel. 
Take him in there.  Omn. 
A very piteous sight.  Cast. 
Father I see you have a busy charge.  Ans. 
They must be used like children, pleased with toys,  
And anon whipped for their unruliness:  
I'll show you now a pair quite different  
From him that's gone; he was all words: and these  
Unless you urge 'em, seldom spend their speech,  
But save their tongues la— you this hithermost  
Fell from the happy quietness of mind,  
About a maiden that he loud, and died:  
He followed her to church, being full of tears,  
And as her body went into the ground,  
He fell stark mad. That is a married man,  
Was jealous of a fair, but (as some say)  
A very virtuous wife, and that spoiled him.  2. Mad. 
All these are whoremongers & lay with my wife: whore, whore, whore, whore, whore.  Flu. 
Observe him.  2. Mad. 
Gaffer shoemaker, you pulled on my wives pumps, and then crept into her pantofles: lie there, lie there,— this was her tailor,- you cut out her loose-bodied gown, and put in a yard more than I allowed her, lie there by the shoemaker: o, master Doctor! are you here: you gave me a purgation, and then crept into my wives chamber, to feel her pulses, and you said, and she said, and her maid said, that they went pit a pat-pit a pat-pit a pat,- Doctor I'll put you anon into my wives urinal:- heigh, come aloft jack? this was her schoolmaster, and taught her to play upon the Virginals, and still his jacks leapt up, up: you pricked her out nothing but bawdy lessons, but I'll prick you all,- Fidler-Doctor-Tayler-Shoomaker,- Shoomaker-Fidler-Doctor-Tayler-so! lie with my wife again now.  Castr. 
See how he notes the other now he feeds.  2. Mad. 
Give me some porridge.  3. Mad. 
I'll give thee none.  2. Mad. 
Give me some porridge.  3. Mad. 
I'll not give thee a bit,  2. Mad. 
Give me that flap-dragon.  3. Mad. 
I'll not give thee a spoonful: thou liest, it's no Dragon 'tis a parrot, that I bought for my sweet heart, and i'll keep it.  2. Mad. 
Here's an Almond for parrot.  3. Mad. 
Hang thyself.  2. Mad. 
Here's a rope for parrot.  3. Mad. 
Eat it, for i'll eat this.  2. Mad. 
I'll shoot at thee and though't give me none.  3. Mad. 
wilt thou?  2. Mad. 
I'll run a-tilt at thee and though't give me none.  3. Mad. 
wilt thou? do and thou dar'st.  2. Mad. 
bounce.  3. Mad. 
oh! I am slain murder, —murder, murder, I am slain, my brains are beaten out.  Ans. 
How now you villains, bring me whips: i'll whip you  3. Mad. 
I am dead, I am slain, ring out the bell, for I am dead,  Duk. 
How will you do now sirrah? you ha' killed him.  2. Mad. 
I'll answer't at Sessions: he was eating of Almond Butter, and I longed for't: the child had never been delivered out of my belly, if I had not killed him I'll answer't at sessions, so my wife may be burnt i'th' hand too.  Ans. 
Take 'em in both: bury him, for he's dead.  3. Mad. 
I indeed, I am dead, put me I pray into a good pit hole.  2. Mad. 
I'll answer't at Sessions. Exeunt.  Enter Bellafronte mad. Ans. 
How now housewife, whether gad you?  Bell. 
A nutting forsooth: how do you gaffer? how do you gaffer? there's a French curtsy for you too.  Flu. 
'tis Bellafronte.  Pio. 
'tis the punk byth' Lord.  Duk. 
Father what's she I pray?  Ans. 
As yet I know not,  
She came but in this day, talks little idly  
And therefore has the freedom of the house,  Bell. 
Do not you know me? nor you? nor you, nor you?  Omn. 
No indeed.  Bell. 
Then you are an Ass, and you are an Ass, and you are an Ass, for I know you.  Ans. 
Why, what are they? come: tell me, what are they?  Bell. 
they're fishwives: will you buy any gudgeons, gods santy yonder come Friars, I know them too, how do you Friar?  Enter Hipolito, Mathaeo, and Infaeliche disguised in the habits of Friars. Ans. 
Nay, nay, away, you must not trouble Friars.  
The duke is here speak nothing.  Bell. 
Nay indeed you shall not go: we'll run at barleybreak first, and you shallbe in hell.  Mat. 
My punk turned mad whore, as all her fellows are?  Hip. 
Speak nothing, but steal hence, when you spy time.  Ans. 
I'll lock you up if you're unruly fie  Bell. 
fie! mary so: they shall not go indeed till I ha' told 'em their fortunes.  Duk. 
Good Father give her leave.  Bell. 
I pray, good father, and I'll give you my blessing.  Ans. 
Well then be brief, but if you are thus unruly,  
I'll have you locked up fast.  Pio. 
come, to their fortunes.  Bell. 
Let me see 1.2.3. and 4. i'll begin with the little Friar first, here's a fine hand indeed, I never saw Friar have such a dainty hand: here's a hand for a Lady, here's your fortune,  

You love a Friar better than a Nun,  
Yet long you'll love no Friar, nor no friars son.  
Bow a little, the line of life is out, yet i'm afraid,  
For all your holy, you'll not die a maid, God give you joy.  
Now to you Friar tuck.   Mat, 
God send me good luck.  Bel. 
You love one, and one loves you.  
You are a false knave, and she's a jew,  
Here is a Dial that false ever goes.  Mat. 
O your wit drops.  Bel. 
Troth so does your nose, nay let's shake hands with you too:  
Pray open, here's a fine hand,  
Ho friar ho, God be here,  
So he had need: you'll keep good cheer,  
Here's a free table, but a frozen breast,  
For you'll starve those that love you best.  
Yet you have good fortune, for if I am no liar,  
Than you are no Friar, nor you, nor you no Friar discovers them  
Haha haha.  Duk. 
Are holy habits cloaks for villainy?  
Draw all your weapons.  Hip. 
do, draw all your weapons.  Duk. 
Where are your weapons, draw.  Omn. 
The Friar has gulled us of 'em.  Mat. 
O rare trick:  
You ha' learned one mad point of arithmetic.  Hip. 
Why swells your spleen so high? against what bosom,  
Would you your weapons draw? hers! 'tis your daughters:  
Mine! 'tis your sons.  Duke 
Son?  Mat. 
Son, by yonder Sun.  Hip. 
You cannot shed blood here, but 'tis your own,  
To spill your own blood were damnation,  
Lay smooth that wrinkled brow, and I will throw  
myself beneath your feet,  
Let it be rugged still and flinted o'er,  
What can come forth but sparkles, that will burn,  
yourself and us? she's mine; my claim's most good,  
she's mine by marriage, though she's yours by blood.  
I have a hand dear Lord, deep in this act,  
For I foresaw this storm, yet willingly  
Put fourth to meet it? Oft have I seen a father  
Washing the wounds of his dear son in tears,  
A son to curse the sword that struck his father,  
Both slain i'th' quarrel of your families,  
Those scars are now ta'en off: And I beseech you,  
To seal our pardon, all was to this end  
To turn the ancient hates of your two houses  
To fresh green friendship, that your Loves might look:  
Like the spring's forehead, comfortably sweet,  
And your vexed souls in peaceful union meet,  
Their blood will now be yours, yours will be theirs,  
And happiness shall crown your silver hairs.  Flu. 
You see my Lord there's now no remedy.  Omn. 
Beseech your Lordship.  Duk. 
You beseech fair, you have me in place fit  
To bridle me, rise Friar. you may be glad  
You can make madmen tame, and tame men mad,  
Since fate hath conquered, I must rest content,  
To strive now would but add new punishment:  
I yield unto your happiness, be blessed,  
Our families shall henceforth breathe in rest.  Omn. 
O happy change.  Duk. 
Yours now is my consent,  
I throw upon your joys my full consent.  Bell. 
Am not I a good girl, for finding the Friar in the well? gods so you are a brave man: will not you buy me some Sugar plums because I am so good a fortune teller.  Duk. 
Would thou hadst wit thou pretty soul to ask,  
As I have will to give.  Bell. 
Pretty soul, a pretty soul is better than a pretty body: do not you know my pretty soul? I know you: Is not your name Mathaeo.  Mat. 
Yes lamb.  Bell. 
Baa, lamb! there you lie for I am mutton; look fine man, he was mad for me once, and I was mad for him once, and he was mad for her once, and were you never mad? yes I warrant, I had a fine jewel once, a very fine jewel and that naughty man stole it away from me, a very fine jewel.  Duk. 
What jewel pretty maid.  Bell. 
Maid nay that's a lie, O 'twas a very rich jewel, called a Maidenhead, and had not you it leerer.  Mat. 
Out you mad Ass away.  Duk. 
Had he thy Maidenhead? he shall make thee amends, and marry thee.  Bell. 
Shall he? o brave Arthur of Bradly then?  Duk. 
And if he bear the mind of a Gentleman,  
I know he will.  Mat. 
I think I rifled her of some such paltry jewel.  Duk. 
Did you? then marry her, you see the wrong  
Has led her spirits into a lunacy.  Mat. 
How, marry her my Lord? 'sfoot marry a madwoman: let a man get the tamest wife he can come by, she'll be mad enough afterward, do what he can.  Duk. 
Nay then, father Anselmo here shall do his best,  
To bring her to her wits, and will you then?  Mat. 
I cannot tell, I may choose.  Duk. 
Nay then law shall compel: I tell you sir,  
So much her hard fate moves me: you should not breathe i'll marry her.  
Under this air, unless you married her.  Mat. 
Well then, when her wits stand in their right place,  Bell. 
I thank your grace, Mathaeo thou art mine,  
I am not mad, but put on this disguise,  
Only for you my Lord, for you can tell  
Much wonder of me, but you are gone: farewell.  
Mathaeo thou didst first turn my soul black,  
Now make it white again, I do protest,  
I'm pure as fire now, chaste as Cynthia's breast.  Hip. 
I durst be sworn Mathaeo she's indeed.  Mat. 
coney-catched, gulled, must I sail in your flyboat,  
Because I helped to rear your mainmast first:  
Plague found you for't,- 'tis well.  
The Cuckold's stamp goes currant in all Nations,  
Some men have horns given them at their creations,  
If I be one of those, why so: it's better  
To take a common wench, and make her good,  
Than one that simpers and at first, will scarce  
Be tempted forth over the threshold door,  
Yet in one sennight zounds, turns arrant whore,  
Come wench, thou shalt be mine, give me thy golls,  
we'll talk of legs hereafter: see my Lord,  
God give us joy.  Omn. 
God give you joy.  Enter Candido's wife and George. Geo. 
Come mistress we are in Bedlam now, mass and see, we come in pudding-time, for here's the Duke.  Wif. 
My husband good my Lord.  Duk. 
Have I thy husband?  Cast. 
It's Candido my Lord, he's here among the lunatics: father Anselmo, pray fetch him forth: this mad woman is his wife, and though she were not with child, yet did she long most spitefully to have her husband mad, and because she would be sure, he should turn jew, she placed him here in Bethlem, yonder he comes.  Enter Candido with Anselmo. Duke. 
Come hither signor— Are you mad.  Cand. 
You are not mad.  Duke. 
Why I know that.  Cand. 
Then may you know, I am not mad, that know  
You are not mad, and that you are the duke:  
None is mad here but one— How do you wife:  
What do you long for now?— pardon my Lord,  
She had lost her child's nose else: I did cut out  
pennyworths of Lawn, the Lawn was yet mine own:  
A carpet was yet my gown, yet 'twas mine own,  
I wore my man's coat. yet the cloth mine own,  
Had a cracked crown the crown was yet mine own,  
She says for this I'm mad, were her words true,  
I should be mad indeed— o foolish skill,  
Is patience madness? I'll be a madman still.  Wife. 
Forgive me, and i'll vex your spirit no more.  Duk. 
Come, come, we'll have you friends, join hearts, join hands.  Cand. 
See my Lord, we are even,  
Nay rise, for ill-deeds kneel unto none but heaven.  Duk. 
signor, methinks, patience has laid on you  
Such heavy weight, that you should loathe it.  Cand. 
Loath it.  Duk. 
For he whose breast is tender blood so cool,  
That no wrongs heat it, is a patient fool,  
What comfort do you find in being so calm.  Cand. 
That which green wounds receive from sovereign balm,  
Patience my Lord; why 'tis the soul of peace:  
Of all the virtues 'tis near'st kin to heaven.  
It makes men look like Gods; the best of men  
That ere wore earth about him, was a sufferer,  
A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit,  
The first true Gentleman that ever breathed;  
The stock of Patience then cannot be poor,  
All it desires, it has; what Monarch more?  
It is the greatest enemy to law  
That can be, for it doth embrace all wrongs,  
And so chains up, lawyers and women's tongues.  
'tis the perpetual prisoner's liberty:  
His walks and Orchards: 'tis the bondslaves freedom,  
And makes him seem proud of each iron chain.  
As though he wore it more for state than pain:  
It is the beggars Music, and thus sings,  
Although their bodies beg, their souls are kings:  
O my dread liege! It is the sap of bliss,  
Rears us aloft; makes men and Angels kiss,  
And (last of all) to end a household strife,  
It is the honey 'gainst a waspish wife.  Duke. 
Thou giv'st it lively colours: who dare say  
he's mad, whose words march in so good array?  
'twere sin all women should such husbands have.  
For every man must then be his wives slave.  
Come therefore you shall teach our court to shine,  
So calm a spirit is worth a golden Mine,  
wives (with meek husbands) that to vex them long,  
In Bedlam must they dwell, else dwell they wrong.  Exeunt.  
FINIS.