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The second part of the honest whore, with the hvmors of the Patient Man, the Impatient Wife

the Honest Whore, perswaded by strong Arguments to turne Curtizan againe : her braue refuting those Arguments. And lastly, the Comicall Passages of an Italian Bridewell, where the Scaene ends
  

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Enter at one doore Hipollito; at another, Lodouico, Astolfo, Carolo, Beraldo, Fontinell.
Lod.

Yonder's the Lord Hipollito, by any meanes leaue
him and me together: Now will I turne him to a Madman.


Omnes.

Saue you, my Lord.


Exeunt.
Lod.

I ha strange newes to tell you.


Hip.

What are they?


Lod.

Your Mare's i'th pound.


Hip.

How's this?


Lod.

Your Nightingale is in a Limebush.


Hip.

Ha?


Lod.

Your Puritanicall Honest Whore sits in a blue gowne.


Hip.

Blue Gowne!


Lod.

She'll chalke out your way to her now: she beats
chalke.


Hip.

Where, who dares?


Lod.

Doe you know the Bricke-house of Castigation, by
the Riuer side that runnes by Millan: the Schoole where
they pronounce no letter well but O?


Hip.

I know it not.


Lod.

Any man that has borne Office of Constable, or any
woman that has falne from a Horse-load to a Cart-load, or
like an old Hen that has had none but rotten egges in her
nest, can direct you to her: there you shall see your Puncke
amongst her back-friends, there you may haue her at your
will, for there she beates Chalke, or grindes in the Mill, with
a whip deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle; ah little monkey.


Hip.

What Rogue durst serue that Warrant, knowing I
loued her?


Lod.
Some Worshipfull Rascall, I lay my life.

Hip.
Ile beat the Lodgings downe about their eares
That are her Keepers.

Lod.
So you may bring an old house ouer her head.

Hip.
Ile to her—


Ile to her, stood armed Fiends to guard the doores.

Exit.
Lod.
Oh me! what Monsters are men made by whores?
If this false fire doe kindle him, there's one Faggot
More to the bonfire, now to my Bridewell Birds,
What Song will they sing?

Exit.