 | The Woman-Hater |  |
Actus Tertius.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Count and Arrigo.Count.
Is the Duke private?
Arr.
He is alone, but I think your Lordship may enter.
Exit Count
Enter Gondarino.
Gond.
Who's with the Duke?
Arr.
The Count is new gone in, but the Duke will come
Gond.
I will attend him here.
Arr.
I must wait without the door.
Gond.
Doth he hope to clear his Sister? she will come no
more to my house, to laugh at me: I have sent her to a habitation,
where when she shall be seen, it will set a gloss upon
her name; yet upon my soul I have bestow'd her
amongst the purest hearted creatures of her sex, and the
freest from dissimulation; for their deeds are all alike, only
they dare speak, what the rest think: the women of this age,
if there be any degrees of comparison amongst their sex,
are worse than those of former times; for I have read of
women, of that truth, spirit, and constancy; that were they
now living, I should endure to see them: but I fear the writers
of the time belied them, for how familiar a thing is it
with the Poets of our age, to extoll their whores, which
they call Mistresses, with heavenly praises? but I thank their
furies, and their craz'd brains, beyond belief: nay, how
many that would fain seem serious, have dedicated grave
Works to Ladies, toothless, hollow-ey'd, their hair shedding,
purple fac'd, their nails apparently coming off; and
the bridges of their noses broken down, and have call'd
them the choice handy works of nature, the patterns of
perfection, and the wonderment of Women. Our Women
begin to swarm like Bees in the Summer: as I came hither,
there was no pair of stairs, no entry, no lobby, but was pestred
with them: methinks there might be some course taken
to destroy them.
Enter Arrigo, and an old deaf countrey Gentlewoman suitor to the Duke.
Arri.
I do accept your money, walk here, and when the
Duke comes out, you shall have sit opportunity to deliver
your petition to him.
Gentlew.
I thank you heartily, I pray you who's he that
walks there?
Ar.
A Lord, and a Soldier, one in good favour with the
Duke; if you could get him to deliver your Petition—
Gentlew.
What do you say, Sir?
Ar.
If you could get him to deliver your petition for
you, or to second you, 'twere sure.
Gentlew.
I hope I shall live to requite your kindness.
Ar.
You have already.
Gentlew.
May it please your Lordship—
Gond.
No, no.
Gentlew.
To consider the estate—
Gond.
No.
Gentlew.
Of a poor oppressed countrey Gentlewoman.
Gond.
No, it doth not please my Lordship.
Gentlew.
First and formost, I have had great injury, then
I have been brought up to the Town three times.
Gond.
A pox on him, that brought thee to the Town.
Gentlew.
I thank your good Lordship heartily; though I
cannot hear well, I know it grieves you; and here we have
been delaid, and sent down again, and fetch'd up again, and
sent down again, to my great charge: and now at last they
have fetch'd me up, and five of my daughters—
Gond.
Enough to damn five worlds.
Gentlew.
Handsome young women, though I say it, they
are all without, if it please your Lordship I'll call them in.
Gond.
Five Women! how many of my sences should I
have left me then? call in five Devils first.
And hear thy tedious tale of injury,
And give thee answers; whisper in thine ear,
And make thee understand through thy French hood:
And all this with tame patience.
Gentlew.
I see your Lordship does believe, that they are
without, and I perceive you are much mov'd at our injury:
here's a paper will tell you more.
Gond.
Away.
Gentlew.
It may be you had rather hear me tell it viva
voce, as they say.
Gond.
Oh no, no, no, no, I have heard it before.
Gentlew.
Then you have heard of enough injury, for a
poor Gentlewoman to receive.
Gond.
Never, never, but that it troubles my conscience,
to wish any good to these women; I could afford them to be
valiant, and able, that it might be no disgrace for a Soldier
to beat them.
Gentlew.
I hope your Lordship will deliver my petition
to his grace, and you may tell him withal—
Gond.
What? I will deliver any thing against my self, to
be rid on thee.
Gentlew.
That yesterday about three a clock in the after
noon, I met my adversary.
Gond.
Give me thy paper, he can abide no long tales.
Gentlew.
'Tis very short my Lord, and I demanding of
him—
Gond.
I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn.
Gentlew,
How?
Gond.
I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn, begone: man
never doth remember how great his offences are, till he do
meet with one of you, that plagues him for them: why
should Women, above all other creatures that were created
for the benefit of man, have the use of speech? or why
should any deed of theirs, done by their fleshly appetites, be
disgraceful to their owners? nay, why should not an act
done by any beast I keep, against my consent, disparage
me as much as that of theirs?
Gentlew.
Here's some few Angels for your Lordship.
Gond.
Again? yet more torments?
Gentlew.
Indeed you shall have them.
Gond.
Keep off.
Gentlew.
A small gratuity for your kindness.
Gond.
Hold away.
Gentlew.
Why then I thank your Lordship, I'll gather
them up again, and I'll be sworn, it is the first money that
was refus'd since I came to the Court.
Gond.
What can she devise to say more?
Gentlew.
Truly I would have willingly parted with them
to your Lordship.
Gond.
I believe it, I believe it.
Gentlew.
But since it is thus—
Gond.
More yet.
Gentlew.
I will attend without, and expect an answer.
Gond.
Do, begone, and thou shalt expect, and have any
thing, thou shalt have thy answer from him; and he were
best to give thee a good one at first, for thy deaf importunity,
will conquer him too, in the end.
Gentlew.
God bless your Lordship, and all thar favour
a poor distressed countrey Gentlewoman.
Gond.
All the diseases of man light upon them that doe,
and upon me when I do. A week of such days, would either
make me stark mad or tame me: yonder other woman
that I have sure enough, shall answer for thy sins: dare
they incense me still, I will make them fear as much to be
ignorant of me and my moods, as men are to be ignorant
of the law they live under. Who's there? My bloud grew
cold, I began to fear my Suiters return; 'tis the Duke.
Enter the Duke and the Count.
Count.
I know her chaste, though she be young and free,
And is not of that forc'd behaviour
That many others are, and that this Lord,
Out of the boundless malice to the sex,
Hath thrown this scandal on her.
Gond.
Fortune befriended me against my Will, with this
good old countrey gentlewoman; I beseech your grace, to
view favourably the petition of a wronged Gentlewoman.
Duke.
What Gondarino, are you become a petitioner for
your enemies?
Gond.
My Lord, they are no enemies of mine, I confess,
the better to recover my deeds, which sometimes were loose
incontinence, but since you have discover'd me, I will no
more put on that vizard, but will as freely open all my
thoughts to you, as to my Confessor.
Duke.
What say you to this?
Count.
He that confesses he did once dissemble,
I'll never trust his words: can you imagine
A Maid, whose beauty could not suffer her
To live thus long untempted, by the noblest,
Richest, and cunningst Masters in that Art
And yet hath ever held a fair repute;
Could in one morning, and by him be brought,
To forget all her virtue, and turn whore?
Gond.
I would I had some other talk in hand,
Than to accuse a Sister to her Brother:
Nor do I mean it for a publick scandal,
Unless by urging me you make it so.
Duke.
I will read this at better leisure:
Gond.
Where is the Lady?
Count.
At his house.
Gond.
No, she is departed thence,
Count.
Whither?
Gond.
Urge it not thus, or let me be excus'd,
If what I speak betray her chastity,
And both increase my sorrow, and your own?
Count.
Fear me not so, if she deserve the fame
Which she hath gotten, I would have it publisht,
Brand her my self, and whip her through the City:
I wish those of my bloud that doe offend,
Should be more strictly punish, than my foes.
Let it be prov'd.
Duke.
Gondarino, thou shalt prove it, or suffer worse
than she should do.
Gond.
Then pardon me, if I betray the faults
Of one, I love more dearly than my self,
Since opening hers, I shall betray mine own:
But I will bring you where she now intends
Not to be virtuous, pride and wantonness,
That are true friends indeed, though not in shew,
Have entr'd on her heart, there she doth bathe,
And sleek her hair, and practise cunning looks
To entertain me with; and hath her thoughts
As full of lust, as ever you did think
Them full of modesty.
Duke.
Gondarino, lead on, we'll follow thee.
Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Pandar.Pan.
Here hope I to meet my Citizen, and hopes he
to meet his Scholar; I am sure I am grave enough,
to his eyes, and knave enough to deceive him: I am believ'd
to conjure, raise storms, and devils, by whose power I can
do wonders; let him believe so still, belief hurts no man;
I have an honest black cloak, for my knavery, and a general
pardon for his foolery, from this present day, till the day
of his breaking. Is't not a misery, and the greatest of our
age, to see a handsome, young, fair enough, and well
mounted wench, humble her self, in an old stammel petticoat,
standing possest of no more fringe, than the street
can allow her: her upper parts so poor and wanting, that
ye may see her bones through her bodies: shooes she would
have, if our Captain were come over, and is content the
while to devote her self to antient slippers. These premisses
well considered, Gentlemen, will move, they make me melt
I promise ye, they stirr me much: and wer't not for my
smooth, soft, silken Citizen, I would quit this transitory
Trade, get me an everlasting Robe, sear up my conscience,
and turn Serjeant. But here he comes, is mine as good as
prize: Sir Pandarus be my speed, ye are most fitly met
Sir.
Enter Mercer.
Mer.
And you as well encount'red, what of this heir? hath
your Books been propitious?
Pan.
Sir, 'tis done, she's come, she's in my house, make
your self apt for Courtship, stroke up your stockings, loose
not an inch of your legs goodness; I am sure ye wear
socks.
Mer.
There your Books sail ye Sir, in truth I wear no
socks.
Pand.
I would you had, Sir, it were the sweeter grace for
your legs; get on your Gloves, are they perfum'd.
Mer.
A pretty wash I'll assure you.
Pand.
'Twill serve: your offers must be full of bounty,
Velvets to furnish a Gown, Silks for Peticoats, and Foreparts
Shag for lining; forget not some pretty Jewel to fasten,
after some little compliment? if she deny this courtesie,
double your bounties, be not wanting in abundance, fulness
of gifts, link'd with a pleasing tongue, will win an Anchorite.
Sir, ye are my friend, and friend to all that professes
good Letters; I must not use this office else, it fits not for
a Scholar, and a Gentleman: those stockins are of Naples,
they are silk.
Mer.
Ye are again beside your Text, Sir, they're of the
best of Wooll, and the clipped Jersey.
Pan.
Sure they are very dear.
Mer.
Nine shillings, by my love to learning.
Pan.
Pardon my judgement, we Scholars use no other
objects, but our Books.
Mer.
There is one thing entomb'd in that grave breast,
that makes me equally admire it with your Scholarship.
Pand.
Sir, but that in modesty I am bound not to affect
mine own commendation, I would enquire it of you.
Merc.
Sure you are very honest; and yet ye have a kind
of modest fear to shew it: do not deny it, that face of yours
is a worthy, learned modest face.
Pand.
Sir, I can blush.
Mer.
Virtue and grace are always pair'd together: but
I will leave to stirr your bloud Sir, and now to our business.
Pand.
Forget not my instructions.
Mer.
I apprehend ye Sir, I will gather my self together
with my best phrases, and so I shall discourse in some sort
takingly.
Pand.
This was well worded Sir, and like a Scholar.
Mer.
The Muses favour me as my intents are virtuous,
Sir, ye shall be my Tutor, 'tis never too late Sir, to love
Learning.
Pand.
What do you intend Sir?
Mer.
Marry I will then begger all your bawdy Writers,
and undertake, at the peril of my own invention, all Pageants,
Poesies, for Chimneys, Speeches for the Dukes entertainment,
whensoever and whatsoever; nay I will build, at
mine own charge, an Hospital, to which shall retire all diseased
opinions, all broken Poets, all Prose-men that are fall'n
from small sence, to meer Letters; and it shall be lawful
for a Lawyer, if he be a civil man, though he have undone
others and himself by the language, to retire to this poor
life, and learn to be honest.
Pand.
Sir, ye are very good, and very charitable: ye are
a true pattern for the City Sir.
Merc.
Sir, I doe know sufficiently, their Shop-books cannot
save them, there is a farther end—
Pand.
Oh Sir, much may be done by manuscript.
Mer.
I do confess it Sir, provided still they be Canonical,
and I have some worthy hands set to 'em for probation: but
we forget our selves.
Sir, enter when you please, and all good language
tip your tongue.
Merc.
All that love Learning pray for my good success.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Lazarello and his Boy.Laz.
Whereabouts are we?
Boy.
Sir, by all tokens this is the house,
bawdy I am sure, because of the broken windows, the Fish
head is within; if ye dare venture, here you may surprize
it.
Laz.
The misery of man may fitly be compar'd to a Didapper,
who when she is under water, past our sight, and
indeed can seem no more to us, rises again; shakes but her
self, and is the same she was, so is it still with transitory
man, this day: oh but an hour since, and I was mighty,
mighty in knowledge, mighty in my hopes, mighty
in blessed means, and was so truly happy, that I durst
have said, live Lazarello, and be satisfied: but now—
Boy.
Sir, ye are yet afloat, and may recover, be not your
own wreck, here lies the harbor, goe in and ride at ease.
Laz.
Boy, I am receiv'd to be a Gentleman, a Courtier,
and a man of action, modest, and wise, and be it spoken
with thy reverence, Child, abounding virtuous; and wouldst
thou have a man of these choise habits, covet the cover of
a bawdy-house? yet if I goe not in, I am but—
Boy.
But what Sir?
Laz.
Dust boy, but dust, and my soul unsatisfied, shall
haunt the keepers of my blessed Saint, and I will appear.
Boy.
An ass to all men; Sir, these are no means to stay
your appetite, you must resolve to enter.
Laz.
Were not the house subject to Martial Law—
Boy.
If that be all, Sir, ye may enter, for ye can know nothing
here that the Court is ignorant of, only the more
eyes shall look upon you, for there they wink one at anothers
faults.
Laz.
If I doe not.
Boy.
Then ye must beat fairly back, again fall to your
physical mess of porridge, and the twice sack'd carkass of
a Capon: Fortune may favour you so much, to send the
bread to it: but it's a meet venture, and money may be put
out upon it.
Laz.
I will go in and live; pretend some love to the Gentlewoman,
screw my self in affection, and so be satisfied.
Pan.
This Fly is caught, is mash'd already, I will suck
him, and lay him by.
Boy.
Muffle your self in your cloak by any means, 'tis a receiv'd
thing among gallants, to walk to their leachery, as
though they had the rheum, 'twas well you brought not
your horse.
Laz.
Why Boy?
Boy.
Faith Sir. 'tis the fashion of our Gentry, to have
their horses wait at door like men, while the beasts their
Masters, are within at rack and manger, 'twould have discover'd
much.
Laz.
I will lay by these habits, forms, and grave respects
of what I am, and be my self; only my appetite, my sire, my
soul, my being, my dear appetite shall go along with me,
arm'd with whose strength, I fearless will attempt the
greatest danger dare oppose my fury: I am resolv'd where
ever that thou art, most sacred dish, hid from unhallow'd
eyes, to find thee out.
To be a rival in black Pluto's love;
Or mov'st thou in the heavens, a form Divine:
Lashing the lazie Sphear,
Or if thou be'st return'd to thy first Being,
Thy mother Sea, then will I seek thee forth.
Earth, Air, nor Fire,
Nor the black shades below shall bar my sight
So daring is my powerful appetite.
Boy.
Sir, you may save this long voyage, and take a shorter
cut: you have forgot your self, the fish head's here, your
own imaginations have made you mad.
Laz.
Term it a jealous fury, good my boy.
Boy.
Faith Sir term it what you will, you must use other
terms before you can get it.
Laz.
The looks of my sweet love are fair,
Fresh and feeding as the air.
Boy.
Sir, you forget your self.
Laz.
Was never seen so rare a head,
Of any Fish alive or dead.
Boy.
Good Sir remember: this is the house, Sir.
Laz.
Cursed be he that dare not venture.
Boy.
Pity your self, Sir, and leave this fury
Laz.
For such a prize, and so I enter.
Exit Lazarello and Boy.
Pan.
Dun's i'th' mire, get out again how he can:
My honest gallant, I'll shew you one trick more
Than e'er the fool your father dream'd of yet.
Madona Julia?
Enter Madona Julia, a Whore.
Julia.
What news my sweet rogue, my dear sins-broker,
what good news?
Pan.
There is a kind of ignorant thing,
Much like a Courtier, now gone in.
Jul.
Is he gallant?
Pan.
He shines not very gloriously, nor does he wear one skin
perfum'd to keep the other sweet; his coat is not in Or, nor
does the world run yet on wheels with him; he's rich enough,
and has a small thing follows him, like to a boat tyed to a
tall ships tail: give him entertainment, be light, and flashing
like a Meteor, hug him about the neck, give him a kiss, and
lisping cry, good Sir; and he's thine own, as fast as he were
tied to thine arms by Indenture.
Jul.
I dare doe more than this, if he be o'th' true Court
cut; I'll take him out a lesson worth the Learning: but we
are but their Apes; what's he worth?
Pan.
Be he rich, or poor; if he will take thee with him,
thou maist use thy trade from Constables, and Marshals: who
hath been here since I went out?
Jul.
There is a Gentlewoman sent hither by a Lord, she's
a piece of dainty stun my rogue, smooth and soft, as new
Sattin; she was never gumm'd yet boy, nor fretted.
Pan.
Where lies she?
Jul.
She lies above, towards the street, not to be spoke
with, but by my Lord that sent her, or some from him,
we have in charge from his servants.
Enter Lazarello.
Pan.
Peace, he comes out again upon discovery; up with
all your Canvas, hale him in; and when thou hast done,
clap him aboard bravely, my valiant Pinnace.
Jul.
Begone, I shall doe reason with him.
Laz.
Are you the special beauty of this house?
Jul.
Sir, you have given it a more special regard by your
good language, than these black brows can merit,
Laz.
Lady, you are fair
Jul.
Fair Sir: I thank ye? all the poor means I have left
to be thought grateful, is but a kiss, and ye shall have it Sir.
Laz.
Ye have a very moving lip.
Jul.
Prove it again Sir, it may be your sense was set too
high, and so over-wrought it self.
Laz.
'Tis still the same: how far may ye hold the time to
be spent Lady?
Four a clock, Sir.
Laz.
I have not eat to day.
Jul.
You will have the better stomach to your supper;
in the mean time I'll feed you with delight.
Laz.
'Tis not so good upon an empty stomach: if it
might be without the trouble of your house, I would eat?
Jul.
Sir, we can have a Capon ready,
Laz.
The day?
Jul.
'Tis Friday, Sir.
Laz.
I do eat little flesh upon these days.
Jul.
Come sweet, ye shall not think on meat; I'll drown
it with a better appetite.
Laz.
I feel it work more strangely, I must eat.
Jul.
'Tis now too late to send; I say ye shall not think
on meat: if ye do, by this kiss I'll be angry.
Laz.
I could be far more sprightful, had I eaten, and
more lasting.
Jul.
What will you have Sir? name but the Fish, my
Maid shall bring it, if it may be got,
Laz.
Methinks your house should not be so unfurnish'd,
as not to have some pretty modicum.
Jul.
It is now: but cou'd ye stay till supper?
Laz.
Sure I have offended highly, and much, and my
afflictions makes it manifest, I will retire henceforth, and
keep my chamber, live privately, and dye forgotten.
Jul.
Sir, I must crave your pardon, I had forgot my
self; I have a dish of meat within, and it is fish; I think this
Dukedom holds not a daintier: 'tis an Umbranoes head.
Laz.
This kiss is yours, and this.
Jul.
Hoe? within there? cover the board, and set the
Fish head on it.
Laz.
Now am I so truly happy, so much above all fate
and fortune, that I should despise that man, durst say, remember
Lazarello, thou art mortal.
Enter Intelligencers with a Guard.
2 Int.
This is the villain, lay hold on him.
Laz.
Gentlemen, why am I thus intreated? what is the
nature of my crime?
2 Int.
Sir, though you have carried it a great while privately,
and (as you think) well; yet we have seen you Sir,
and we do know thee Lazarello, for a Traitor.
Laz.
The gods defend our Duke,
2 Int.
Amen, Sir, Sir, this cannot save that stiff neck
from the halter.
Jul.
Gentlemen, I am glad you have discover'd him, he
should not have eaten under my roof for twenty pounds;
and surely I did not like him, when he call'd for Fish,
Laz.
My friends, will ye let me have that little favour—
1 Int.
Sir, ye shall have Law, and nothing else.
Laz.
To let me stay the eating of a bit or two, for I protest
I am yet fasting.
Jul.
I'll have no Traitor come within my house.
Laz.
Now could I wish my self I had been a Traitor, I
have strength enough for to endure it, had I but patience:
Man thou art but grass, thou art a bubble, and thou must
perish.
Since I have lost my hopes, welcome my fall.
2 Int.
Away Sir.
Laz.
As thou hast hope of man, stay but this dish this
two hours, I doubt not but I shall be discharged: by this
light I will marry thee.
Jul.
You shall marry me first then.
Laz.
I do contract my self unto thee now, before these
Gentlemen.
Jul.
I'll preserve jt till you be hang'd or quitted.
Laz.
Thanks, thanks.
2 Int.
Away, away, you shall thank her at the gallows.
Laz.
Adieu, adieu.
Exeunt Laz. 2 Int. and Guard.
Jul.
If he live I'll have him, if he be hang'd, there's no
loss in it.
Exit.
Enter Oriana and her waiting woman, looking out at a window.
Orian.
Hast thou provided one to bear my Letter to my
brother?
Wait.
I have enquir'd, but they of the house will suffer
no Letter nor message to be carried from you, but such as
the Lord Gondarino shall be acquainted with: truly Madam
I suspect the house to be no better than it should be.
Ori.
What dost thou doubt?
Wait.
Faith I am loth to tell it, Madam.
Ori.
Out with it, 'tis not true modesty to fear to speak
that thou dost think.
Wait.
I think it to be one of these Bawdy houses.
Ori.
'Tis no matter wench, we are warm in it, keep thou
thy mind pure, and upon my word, that name will do thee
no hurt: I cannot force my self yet to fear any thing;
when I do get out, I'll another encounter with my Woman-Hater.
Here will I sit. I may get sight of some of my friends,
it must needs be a comfort to them to see me here.
Enter Duke, Gondarino, Count, Arrigo.
Gond.
Are we all sufficiently disguis'd? for this house
where she attends me, is not to be visited in our own
shapes.
Duke.
We are not our selves.
Arr.
I know the house to be sinful enough, yet I have
been heretofore, and durst now, but for discovering of you,
appear here in my own likeness.
Duke.
Where's Lucio?
Arri.
My Lord, he said the affairs of the Common-wealth
would not suffer him to attend always.
Duke.
Some great ones questionless that he will handle.
Count.
Come, let us enter.
Gond.
See how Fortune strives to revenge my quarrel upon
these women, she's in the window, were it not to undoe
her, I should not look upon her.
Duke.
Lead us Gondarino.
Gond.
Stay; since you force me to display my shame,
Look there, and you my Lord, know you that face?
Duke.
Is't she?
Count.
It is.
Gond.
'Tis she, whose greatest virtue ever was
Dissimulation; she that still hath strove
More to sin cunningly, than to avoid it:
She that hath ever sought to be accounted
Most virtuous, when she did deserve most scandal:
'Tis she that itches now, and in the height
Of her intemperate thoughts, with greedy eyes
Expects my coming to allay her Lust:
Leave her; forget she's thy sister.
Count.
Stay, stay.
Duke.
I am as full of this, as thou canst be,
The memory of this will easily
Hereafter stay my loose and wandring thought
From any Woman.
Count.
This will not down with me, I dare not trust
this fellow.
Duke.
Leave her here, that only shall be her punishment,
never to be fetcht from hence; but let her use her trade to
get her living.
Count.
Stay good my Lord, I do believe all this, as great
men as I, have had known whores to their Sisters, and have
laught at it: I would fain hear how she talks, since she
grew thus light: will your grace make him shew himself to
her, as if he were now come to satisfie her longing! whilst
we, unseen of her, over-hear her wantonness, let's make our
best of it now, we shall have good mirth.
Duke.
Do it Gondarino.
Gond.
I must; fortune assist me but this once.
Count.
Here we shall stand unseen, and near enough.
Gond.
Madam, Oriana.
Who's that? oh! my Lord?
Gond.
Shall I come up?
Oria.
Oh you are merry, shall I come down?
Gond.
It is better there.
Oria.
What is the confession of the lye you made to the
Duke, which I scarce believe, yet you had impudence enough
to do? did it not gain you so much faith with me, as
that I was willing to be at your Lordships bestowing,
till you had recover'd my credit, and confest your self a lyar,
as you pretended to do? I confess I began to fear you,
and desir'd to be out of your house, but your own followers
forc'd me hither.
Gond.
'Tis well suspected, dissemble still, for there are
some may hear us.
Oria.
More tricks yet, my Lord? what house this is I
know not, I only know my self: it were a great conquest,
if you could fasten a scandal upon me: 'saith my Lord,
give me leave to write to my brother?
Duke.
Come down.
Count.
Come down.
Arr.
If it please your Grace, there's a back door.
Count.
Come meet us there then.
Duke.
It seems you are acquainted with the house.
Arr.
I have been in it.
Gond.
She saw you and dissembled.
Duke.
Sir, we shall know that better,
Gond.
Bring me unto her, if I prove her not
To be a strumpet, let me be contemn'd
Of all her sex.
Exeunt.
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