University of Virginia Library

Enter the two Masters first, after them the Constable, after them a Beadle beating a Bason, then Catyryna Bountinall, with Mistris Horsleach, after them another Beadle with a blue head guarded with yellow.
Cat.

Sirra, when I cry hold your hands, hold, you Rogue.
Catcher, hold: Bawd, are the French Chilblaines in your
heeles, that you can come no faster? are not you (Bawd) a
Whores Ancient, and must not I follow my Colours?

Hors.

O Mistris Katherine, you doe me wrong to accuse
mee here as you doe, before the right Worshipfull: I am
knowne for a motherly honest woman, and no Bawd.

Cat.

Mary, foh, honest? burnt at fourteene, seuen times
whipt, sixe times carted, nine times duck'd, search'd by
some hundred and fifty Constables, and yet you are honest?
Honest Mistris Horsleach, is this World, a World to keepe
Bawds and Whores honest? How many times hast thou
giuen Gentlemen a quart of wine in a gallon pot? how many
twelue-penny Fees, nay two shillings Fees, nay, when
any Embassadours ha beene here, how many halfe crowne
Fees hast thou taken? how many Carriers hast thou bribed
for Country Wenches? how often haue I rinst your lungs
in Aqua uitæ, and yet you are honest?

Duke

And what were you the whilest?

Cat.

Mary hang you, Master Slaue, who made you an
examiner?

Lod.

Well said, belike this Deuill spares no man.

Cat.

What art thou prethee?

Bots.

Nay what art thou prethee?

Cat.

A Whore, art thou a Thiefe?

Bots.

A Thiefe, no, I defie the calling, I am a Soldier,
haue borne Armes in the Field, beene in many a hot Skyrmish,
yet come off sound.

Cat.

Sound with a pox to yee, yee abominable Rogue!
you a Soldier? you in Skirmishes? where? amongst pottle
pots in a Bawdy-house? Looke, looke here, you Madam

Wormeaten, doe not you know him?

Hors.

Lieutenant Bots, where haue yee beene this many a
day?

Bots.

Old Bawd, doe not discredit me, seeme not to
know me.

Hors.

Not to know yee, Master Bots? as long as I haue
breath, I cannot forget thy sweet face.

Duke

Why, doe you know him? he saies he is a Soldier.

Cat.

He a Soldier? a Pander, a Dog that will licke vp sixe
pence: doe yee heare, you Master Swines snout, how long is't
since you held the doore for me, and cried too't agen, no
body comes, yee Rogue you?

Omnes.

Ha, ha, ha, y'are smelt out agen, Bots.

Bots.

Pox ruyne her nose for't, and I be not reuenged for
this—vm yee Bitch.

Lod.

Dee yee heare yee, Madam? why does your Ladiship
swagger thus? y'are very braue, me thinkes.

Cat.
Not at your cost, Master Cods-head,
Is any man here bleare-eyed to see me braue?

Ast.
Yes, I am,
Because good Cloathes vpon a Whores backe
Is like faire painting vpon a rotten wall.

Cat.

Mary muffe Master Whoremaster, you come vpon
me with sentences.

Ber.
By this light has small sence for't.

Lod.
O fie, fie, doe not vex her.
And yet me thinkes a creature of more scuruy conditions
Should not know what a good Petticoate were.

Cat.
Mary come out,

Y' are so busie about my Petticoate, you'll creepe vp to my
placket, and yee cood but attaine the honour, but and the
outsides offend your Rogueships, looke o'the lining, 'tis
Silke.

Duke

Is't Silke 'tis lined with then?

Cat.

Silke? I Silke, Master Slaue, you wud bee glad to
wipe your nose with the skirt on't: this 'tis to come among

a company of Cods-heads that know not how to vse
a Gentlewoman.

Duke

Tell her the Duke is here.

1. Master.

Be modest, Kate, the Duke is here.

Cat.

If the Deuill were here, I care not: set forward, yee
Rogues, and giue attendance according to your places, let
Bawds and Whores be sad, for Ile sing and the Deuill were
a dying.

Exeunt.
Duke
Why before her does the Bason ring?

1. Master.
It is an emblem of their reuelling,
The whips we vse lets forth their wanton blood,
Making them calme, and more to calme their pride,
In stead of Coaches they in Carts doe ride.
Will your Grace see more of this bad Ware?

Duke
No, shut vp shop, wee'll now breake vp the faire,
Yet ere we part—you, sir, that take vpon yee
The name of Soldier, that true name of worth,
Which, action not vaine boasting best sets forth,
To let you know how farre a Soldiers name
Stands from your title, and to let you see,
Soldiers must not be wrong'd where Princes be:
This bee your sentence.

Omnes.
Defend your selfe, Bots.

Duke
First, all the priuat sufferance that the house
Inflicts vpon Offenders, you (as the basest)
Shall vndergoe it double, after which
You shall bee whipt, sir, round about the Citty,
Then banisht from the Land.

Bots.
Beseech your Grace.

Duke
Away with him, see it done, Panders and Whores
Are Citty-plagues, which being kept aliue,
Nothing that lookes like goodnes ere can thriue.
Now good Orlando, what say you to your bad Sonne-in-law?

Orl.

Mary this, my Lord, he is my Sonne-in-law, and in
law will I be his Father: for if law can pepper him, he shall
be so parboild, that he shall stinke no more i'th nose of the
Common-wealth.

Bel.

Be yet more kinde and mercifull, good Father.

Orl.

Doest thou beg for him, thou precious mans meat,
thou? has he not beaten thee, kickt thee, trod on thee, and
doest thou fawne on him like his Spanniell? has hee not
pawnd thee to thy Petticoate, sold thee to thy smock, made
yee leape at a crust, yet woodst haue me saue him?

Bel.
Oh yes, good sir, women shall learne of me,
To loue their husbands in greatest misery,
Then shew him pitty, or you wracke my selfe.

Orl.

Haue yee eaten Pigeons that y'are so kinde-hearted
to your Mate? Nay, y'are a couple of wilde Beares, Ile
haue yee both baited at one stake: but as for this Knaue, the
Gallowes is thy due, and the Gallowes thou shalt haue, Ile
haue iustice of the Duke, the Law shall haue thy life, what,
doest thou hold him? let goe his hand: if thou doest not forsake
him, a Fathers euerlasting blessing fall vpon both your
heads: away, goe, kisse out of my sight, play thou the
Whore no more, nor thou the Thiefe agen, my house shall
be thine, my meate shall be thine, and so shall my wine, but
my money shall bee mine, and yet when I die, (so thou doest
not flie hie) take all, yet good Matheo, mend.

Thus for ioy weepes Orlando, and doth end.

Duke
Then heare, Matheo: all your woes are stayed
By your good Father-in-law: all your Ills
Are cleare purged from you by his working pills.
Come Signior Candido, these greene yong wits
(We see by Circumstance) this plot hath laid,
Still to prouoke thy patience, which they finde
A wall of Brasse, no Armour's like the minde;
Thou hast taught the Citty patience, now our Court
Shall be thy Spheare, where from thy good report,
Rumours this truth vnto the world shal sing,
A Patient man's a Patterne for a King.

Exeunt.