DUKE

Thou hast thy wish, Orlando, pass unknown, Sforsa shall only go along with thee, To see that Warrant served upon thy Son. Away: ply you the business. You know what I have said. Infaelice. the old Fellow sings that note thou didst before, Only his tunes are, that she is no Whore, But that she sent his Letters and his gifts, Out of a Noble Triumph over his Lust, To show she trampled his Assaults in dust. I doubt no less. It may be so too, for to turn a Harlot Honest, it must be by strong Antidotes, It's rare, as to see Panthers change their spots. And when she's once a Star (fixed) and shines bright, Though 'twere impiety then to dim her light, Because we see such Tapers seldom burn. Yet it's the pride and glory of some men, To change her to a blazing Star again, And it may be, Hipollito does no more. It cannot be, but you're acquainted all With that same madness of our Sonne-in-law, That dotes so on a Courtesan. I doubt then you have all those stinking breathes, You might be all smelled out. It's well yet you confess: but Girl, thy bed Shall not be parted with a Courtesan—it's strange, No frown of mine, no frown of the poor Lady, (My abused child, his wife) no care of fame, Of Honour, Heaven or Hell, no not that name Of Common Strumpet, can affright, or woo Him to abandon her; the Harlot does undo him, She has bewitched him, robbed him of his shape, Turned him into a beast, his reason's lost, You see he looks wild, does he not? He's no more life unto Hipollito, Then dead men are to living—never sleeps, Or if he do, it's dreams; and in those dreams His arms work,—and then cries—Sweet—what's her Name, what's the drabs name? O, Bellafront! And catching her fast, cries, My Bellafront. I'll try all Physic, and this Medicine first: I have directed Warrants strong and peremptory (To purge our City Milan, and to cure the outward Parts, the Suburbs) for the attaching Of all those women, who (Like gold) want weight, Cities (Like Ships) should have no idle fraught. This (Carolo.) If she whom my Son dotes on, Be in that Master-book enrolled, he'll shame Ever to approach one of such noted name. Yet on Harlots heads New Laws shall fallen so heavy, and such blows shall Give to those that haunt them, that Hipollito (If not for fear of Law) for love to her, If he love truly, shall her bed forbear. Those only shall be caught that are of note, Harlots in each street flow: The fish being thus i'th net, our self will fit, And with eye most severe dispose of it.—come, Girl. Your Bridewell? that the name? for beauty, strength, Capacity and form of ancient building, (Beside the Rivers neighbourhood) few houses Wherein we keep our Court can better it. It's Fortune's sport: These changes common are: the Wheel of Fate Turns Kingdoms up, till they fallen desolate. But how are these seven hundred Marks by'th year Imployde in this your Workhouse? Thus wholsomest Laws spring from the worst abuse. His name? For a robbery? where is she? Fetch you him hither— Is this the Party? Are your two Servants ready? It's well: this day in Judgement shall be spent, Vice (Like a wound lanced) mends by punishment. Tell him we wish his presence. A word Storsa: On what wings flew he hither? It's excellent: away, go call him hither. You are to us a stranger (worthy Lord) It's strange to see you here. Attomyes neither shape, nor honour bear: Be you yourself, a Sunbeam to shine clear. Is this the Gentleman? Stand forth & hear your accusation. It's well done to confess. Did any hand work in this theft but yours? Old fellow, was thy hand in too? What fury prompts thee on to kill thy wife? Is she a Whore? Your Father has the true Physician played. Fetch him: and when these payments up are cast, Weigh out your light Gold, but let's have them last. In Bridewell, Candido? What make you here? I'm here to save right, and to driven wrong hence. You would bought stolen Goods. Well, stand by, If you take wrong, wee'll cure the iniurry. Stay, stay, what's he? a prisoner? Bots, and where would you served, Bots? Well, sir, because you say you are a Soldier, I'll use you Like a Gentleman: make room there, Plant him amongst you, we shall have anon Strange Hawks fly here before us: if none light on you, You shall with freedom take your flight: But if you prove a Bird of baser wing, Wee'll use you Like such Birds, here you shall sing. Why, is he furnished with those in p yments? This does savour Of Justice, basest Slaves to basest labour. Now pray, set open Hell, and let us see The Shee-Deuils that are here. Let them be marshaled in: be covered all, Fellows, now to make the Scene more Comical. Oh fie, abuse her not, let us two talk, What might I call your name, pray? Why is this wheel born after her? Passed shame: passed penitence, why is that blue Gown? Are all the rest Like this? Variety is good, let's see the rest. Come off so, and it's well. What is your name, I pray? Even now she wept, and prayed, now does she curse? Is she a City-dame, she's so attired? And what were you the whilst? Why, do you know him? he says he is a Solemnizing dier. Is't Silk it's lined with then? Tell her the Duke is here. Why before her does the Basin ring? No, shut up shop, wee'll now break up the fair, Yet ere we partly—you, sir, that take upon ye The name of Soldier, that true name of worth, Which, Actium not vain boasting best sets forth, To let you know how far a Soldiers name Stands from your title, and to let you see, Soldiers must not be wronged where Princes be: This be your sentence. First, all the private sufferance that the house Inflicts upon Offenders, you (as the basest) Shall undergo it double, after which You shall be whipped, sir, round about the City, Then banished from the Land. Away with him, see it done, Panders and Whores Are City-plagues, which being kept alive, Nothing that looks Like goodness ere can thrive. Now good Orlando, what say you to your bade Sonne-in-law Then hear, Matheo: all your woes are stayed By your good Father-in-law: all your Ills Are clear purged from you by his working pills. Come Signior Candido, these green young wits (We see by Circumstance) this plot hath laid, Still to provoke thy patience, which they find A wall of Brass, no Armour's Like the mind; Thou hast taught the City patience, now our Court Shall be thy Sphere, where from thy good report, Rumours this truth unto the world shall sing, A Patient man's a Pattern for a King.