Chapter XI: Act V: Scene I

_A Street._

_Enter on one side_ HIPPOLITO, _on the other_ LODOVICO,
ASTOLFO, CAROLO, BERALDO, _and_ FONTINELL.

LOD. Yonder’s the lord Hippolito; by any means leave
him and me together; now will I turn him to a madman.
AST. } Save you, my lord.
CAR., _&c._ }
[_Exeunt all except_ HIPPOLITO _and_ LODOVICO.
LOD. I ha’ strange news to tell you.
HIP. What are they?
LOD. Your mare’s i’ th’ pound.
HIP. How’s this?
LOD. Your nightingale is in a lime-bush.
HIP. Ha!
LOD. Your puritanical Honest Whore sits in a blue
gown.[419]
HIP. Blue gown?
LOD. She’ll chalk out your way to her now; she beats
chalk.
HIP. Where? who dares——
LOD. Do you know the brick-house of castigation, by the
river-side that runs by Milan? the school 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[420] that has fallen from a horse-load to a
cart-load, or like an old hen that has had none but
rotten eggs in her nest, can direct you to her: there
you shall see your punk amongst her back-friends,
There you may have her at your will,
For there she beats chalk, or grinds in the mill,[421]
With a whip, deedle, deedle, deedle, deedle.
Ah, little monkey!
HIP. What rogue durst serve that warrant, knowing I
lov’d her?
LOD. Some worshipful rascal, I lay my life.
HIP. I’ll beat the lodgings down about their ears
That are her keepers.
LOD. So you may bring an old house over her head.
HIP. I’ll to her,
I’ll to her, stood arm’d fiends to guard the doors!
[_Exit._
LOD. O me, what monsters are men made by whores!
If this false fire do kindle him, there’s one faggot
More to the bonfire. Now to my Bridewell-birds;
What song will they sing? [_Exit._

SCENE II.

_An Apartment in Bridewell._

_Enter_ DUKE, INFELICE, CAROLO, ASTOLFO, BERALDO,
FONTINELL, _and several Masters of Bridewell_.

DUKE. Your Bridewell?[422] that the name? for beauty,
strength,
Capacity and form of ancient building,
Besides the river’s neighbourhood, few houses
Wherein we keep our court can better it.
FIRST MAS. Hither from foreign courts have princes
come,
And with our duke did acts of state commence;
Here that great cardinal had first audience,
The grave Campayne; that duke dead, his son,
That famous prince, gave free possession
Of this his palace to the citizens,
To be the poor man’s warehouse, and endow’d it
With lands to th’ value of seven hundred mark[s],[423]
With all the bedding and the furniture, once proper,
As the lands then were, to an hospital
Belonging to a duke of Savoy. Thus
Fortune can toss the world; a prince’s court
Is thus a prison now.
DUKE. ’Tis fortune’s sport:
These changes common are; the wheel of fate
Turns kingdoms up, till they fall desolate.
But how are these seven hundred marks by th’ year
Employ’d in this your workhouse?
FIRST MAS. War and peace
Feed both upon those lands: when the iron doors
Of war[424] burst open, from this house are sent
Men furnish’d in all martial complement.
The moon hath through her bow scarce drawn to th’ head,
Like to twelve silver arrows, all the months,
Since sixteen hundred soldiers went aboard.
Here providence and charity play such parts,
The house is like a very school of arts;
For when our soldiers, like ships driven from sea,
With ribs all broken and with tatter’d sides,
Cast anchor here again, their ragged backs
How often do we cover! that, like men,
They may be sent to their own homes agen.[425]
All here are but one swarm of bees, and strive
To bring with wearied thighs honey to the hive.
The sturdy beggar and the lazy lown
Gets here hard hands or lac’d correction.
The vagabond grows staid, and learns t’ obey;
The drone is beaten well, and sent away.
As other prisons are, some for the thief,
Some by which undone credit gets relief
From bridled debtors, others for the poor;
So this is for the bawd, the rogue, and whore.
CAR. An excellent team of horse!
FIRST MAS. Nor is it seen
That the whip draws blood here, to cool the spleen
Of any rugged bencher, nor does offence
Feel smart on[426] spiteful or rash evidence;
But pregnant testimony forth must stand
Ere justice leave them in the beadle’s hand.
As iron, on the anvil are they laid,
Not to take blows alone, but to be made
And fashion’d to some charitable use.
DUKE. Thus wholesom’st laws spring from the worst
abuse.

_Enter_ ORLANDO _disguised as a Serving-man, and_[427]
BELLAFRONT.

BEL. Let mercy touch your heart-strings, gracious lord,
That it may sound like music in the ear
Of a man desperate, being i’ th’ hands of law!
DUKE. His name?
BEL. Matheo.
DUKE. For a robbery?
Where is he?[428]
BEL. In this house.
DUKE. Fetch you him hither.—
[_Exeunt Second Master and_ BELLAFRONT.
Is this the party?
OR. This is the hen, my lord, that the cock with the
lordly comb, your son-in-law, would crow over and tread.
DUKE. Are your two servants ready?
OR. My two pedlars are packed together, my good lord.
DUKE. ’Tis well: this day in judgment shall be spent:
Vice, like a wound lanc’d, mends by punishment.
INF. Let me be gone, my lord, or stand unseen;
’Tis rare when a judge strikes, and that none die,
And ’tis unfit then women should be by.
FIRST MAS. We’ll place you, lady, in some private
room.
INF. Pray do so.
[_Exit with First Master, who presently returns._
OR. Thus nice dames swear, it is unfit their eyes
Should view men carv’d up for anatomies,[429]
Yet they’ll see all, so they may stand unseen:
Many women sure will sin behind a screen.

_Enter_ LODOVICO.

LOD. Your son, the lord Hippolito, is enter’d.
DUKE. Tell him we wish his presence. A word,
Sforza;[430]
On what wings flew he hither?
LOD. These; I told him his lark whom he loved was a
Bridewell-bird; he’s mad that this cage should hold her,
and is come to let her out.
DUKE. ’Tis excellent: away, go call him hither.
[_Exit_ LODOVICO.

_Re-enter on one side Second Master and_ BELLAFRONT,
_with_ MATHEO _and Constable; on the other_,
LODOVICO _with_ HIPPOLITO. ORLANDO _goes out and
returns with two of his servants disguised as
pedlars_.

DUKE. You are to us a stranger, worthy lord;
’Tis strange to see you here.
HIP. It is most fit,
That where the sun goes, atomies[431] follow it.
DUKE. Atomies neither shape nor honour bear:
Be you yourself, a sunbeam to shine clear.—
Is this the gentleman? stand forth and hear
Your accusation.
MAT. I’ll hear none; I fly high in that: rather than
kites shall seize upon me, and pick out mine eyes to my
face, I’ll strike my talons thorough mine own heart
first, and spit my blood in theirs. I am here for
shriving those two fools of their sinful pack: when
those jackdaws have cawed over me, then must I cry
guilty, or not guilty; the law has work enough already,
and therefore I’ll put no work of mine into his hands;
the hangman shall ha’t first: I did pluck those ganders,
did rob them.
DUKE. ’Tis well done to confess.
MAT. Confess and be hanged, and then I fly high,—is’t
not so? that for that; a gallows is the worst rub that a
good bowler can meet with; I stumbled against such a
post, else this night I had played the part of a true
son in these days, undone my father-in-law; with him
would I ha’ run at leap-frog, and come over his gold,
though I had broke his neck for’t: but the poor
salmon-trout is now in the net.
HIP. And now the law must teach you to fly high.
MAT. Right, my lord, and then may you fly low; no more
words:—a mouse, mum, you are stopt.
BEL. Be good to my poor husband, dear my lords!
MAT. Ass!
Why shouldst thou pray them to be good to me,
When no man here is good to one another?
DUKE. Did any hand work in this theft but yours?
MAT. O yes, my lord, yes: the hangman has never one son
at a birth, his children always come by couples: though
I cannot give the old dog my father a bone to gnaw, the
daughter shall be sure of a choke-pear. Yes, my lord,
there was one more that fiddled my fine pedlars, and
that was my wife.
BEL. Alas, I?
OR. O everlasting, supernatural, superlative villain!
[_Aside._]
DUKE, } Your wife Matheo?
LOD., _&c._ }
HIP. Sure it cannot be.
MAT. O, sir, you love no quarters of mutton that hang
up, you love none but whole mutton. She set the robbery,
I performed it; she spurred me on, I galloped away.
OR. My lords——
BEL. My lords—fellow, give me speech—if my poor life
May ransom thine, I yield it to the law.
Thou hurt’st thy soul, yet wip’st off no offence,
By casting blots upon my innocence:
Let not these spare me, but tell truth: no, see
Who slips his neck out of the misery,
Though not out of the mischief: let thy servant,
That shar’d in this base act, accuse me here:
Why should my husband perish, he go clear?
OR. A good child, hang thine own father! [_Aside._
DUKE. Old fellow, was thy hand in too?
OR. My hand was in the pie, my lord, I confess it: my
mistress, I see, will bring me to the gallows, and so
leave me; but I’ll not leave her so: I had rather hang
in a woman’s company than in a man’s; because if we
should go to hell together, I should scarce be letten
in, for all the devils are afraid to have any women come
amongst them; as I am true thief, she neither consented
to this felony nor knew of it.
DUKE. What fury prompts thee on to kill thy wife?
MAT. It’s my humour, sir; ’tis a foolish bagpipe that I
make myself merry with: why should I eat hemp-seed at
the hangman’s thirteenpence-halfpenny ordinary, and have
this whore laugh at me as I swing, as I totter?
DUKE. Is she a whore?
MAT. A sixpenny mutton pasty[432] for any to cut up.
OR. Ah, toad, toad, toad! [_Aside._
MAT. A barber’s cittern[433] for every serving-man to
play upon: that lord your son knows it.
HIP. I, sir? am I her bawd then?
MAT. No, sir, but she’s your whore then.
OR. Yea, spider, dost catch at great flies? [_Aside._
HIP. My whore?
MAT. I cannot talk, sir, and tell of your rems, and your
rees, and your whirligigs and devices,—but, my lord, I
found 'em like sparrows in one nest, billing together,
and bulling of me: I took 'em in bed, was ready to kill
him, was up to stab her——
HIP. Close thy rank jaws;—pardon me, I am vex’d,—
Thou art a villain, a malicious devil!
Deep as the place where thou art lost, thou liest!
Since I am thus far got into this storm,
I’ll through, and thou shalt see I’ll through untouch’d,
When thou shalt perish in it.

_Re-enter_ INFELICE.

INF. ’Tis my cue
To enter now.—Room, let my prize be play’d![434]
I ha’ lurk’d in clouds, yet heard what all have said:
What jury more can prove sh’as wrong’d my bed
Than her own husband? she must be punished;
I challenge law, my lord; letters, and gold,
And jewels from my lord that woman took.
HIP. Against that black-mouth’d devil, 'gainst letters
and gold,
And 'gainst a jealous wife, I do uphold
Thus far her reputation; I could sooner
Shake th’ Appenine, and crumble rocks to dust,
Than, though Jove’s shower rain’d down, tempt her to
lust.
BEL. What shall I say?
OR. [_throwing off his disguise_] Say thou art not a
whore, and that’s more than fifteen women amongst five
hundred dare swear without lying: this shalt thou say—
no, let me say’t for thee—thy husband’s a knave, this
lord’s an honest man; thou art no punk, this lady’s a
right lady; Pacheco is a thief as his master is, but old
Orlando is as true a man as thy father is.—I ha’ seen
you fly high, sir, and I ha’ seen you fly low, sir; and
to keep you from the gallows, sir, a blue coat have I
worn, and a thief did I turn; mine own men are the
pedlars: my twenty pound did fly high, sir, your wife’s
gown did fly low, sir: whither fly you now, sir? you ha’
scaped the gallows, to the devil you fly next, sir.—Am I
right, my liege?
DUKE. Your father has the true physician play’d.
MAT. And I am now his patient.
HIP. And be so still:
’Tis a good sign when our cheeks blush at ill.
CON. The linen-draper, signor Candido,
He whom the city terms the patient man,
Is likewise here for buying of those lawns
The pedlars lost.
INF. Alas, good Candido!
DUKE. Fetch him [_exit Constable_]: and when these
payments up are cast,
Weigh out your light gold, but let’s have them last.

_Enter_ CANDIDO _with Constable, who presently goes
out_.

In Bridewell, Candido?
CAN. Yes, my good lord.
DUKE. What make you here?
CAN. My lord, what make you here?
DUKE. I’m here to save right, and to drive wrong
hence.
CAN. And I to bear wrong here with patience.
DUKE. You ha’ bought stoln goods.
CAN. So they do say, my lord;
Yet bought I them upon a gentleman’s word;
And I imagine now, as I thought then,
That there be thieves, but no thieves gentlemen.
HIP. Your credit’s crack’d being here.
CAN. No more than gold
Being crack’d, which does his estimation hold.
I was in Bedlam once, but was I mad?
They made me pledge whores’ healths, but am I bad
Because I’m with bad people?
DUKE. Well, stand by:
If you take wrong, we’ll cure the injury.

_Re-enter Constable, after him_ BOTS, _then two Beadles,
one with hemp, the other with a beetle_.[435]

Stay, stay: what’s he? a prisoner?
CON. Yes, my lord.
HIP. He seems a soldier.
BOTS. I am what I seem, sir, one of fortune’s bastards,
a soldier and a gentleman, and am brought in here with
master constable’s band of billmen,[436] because
they face me down that I live, like those that keep
bowling-alleys, by the sins of the people, in being a
squire of the body.[437]
HIP. O, an apple-squire.[438]
BOTS. Yes, sir, that degree of scurvy squires, and that
I am maintained by the best part that is commonly in a
woman, by the worst players of those parts; but I am
known to all this company.
LOD. My lord, ’tis true, we all know him, ’tis
lieutenant Bots.
DUKE. Bots?—And where ha’ you served, Bots?
BOTS. In most of your hottest services in the Low
Countries: at the Groyne I was wounded in this thigh,
and halted upon’t, but ’tis now sound; in Cleveland I
missed but little having the bridge of my nose broken
down with two great stones as I was scaling a fort: I
ha’ been tried, sir, too, in Guelderland, and scaped
hardly there from being blown up at a breach; I was
fired, and lay i’ th’ surgeon’s hands for’t till the
fall of the leaf following.
HIP. All this may be, and yet you no soldier.
BOTS. No soldier, sir? I hope these are services that
your proudest commanders do venture upon, and never come
off sometimes.
DUKE. 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,
We’ll use you like such birds, here you shall sing.
BOTS. I wish to be tried at no other weapon.
DUKE. Why is he furnish’d with those implements?
FIRST MAS. The pander is more dangerous to a state
Than is the common thief; and though our laws
Lie heavier on the thief, yet, that the pander
May know the hangman’s ruff should fit him too,
Therefore he’s set to beat hemp.
DUKE. This does savour
Of justice; basest slaves to basest labour.
Now, pray, set open hell, and let us see
The she-devils that are here.
INF. Methinks this place
Should make even Lais honest.
FIRST MAS. Some it turns good;
But as some men, whose hands are once in blood,
Do in a pride spill more, so some going hence,
Are, by being here, lost in more impudence.
Let it not to them, when they come, appear
That any one does as their judge sit here,
But that as gentlemen you come to see,
And then perhaps their tongues will walk more free.
DUKE. Let them be marshall’d in.
[_Exeunt First and Second Masters, Constable,
and Beadles._
Be cover’d all,
Fellows, now to make the scene more comical.
CAR. Will not you be smelt out, Bots?
BOTS. No; your bravest whores have the worst noses.

_Re-enter First and Second Masters and Constable,
then_ DOROTHEA TARGET, _brave;[439] after her two
Beadles, the one with a wheel, the other with a
blue gown_.[440]

LOD. Are not you a bride, forsooth?
DOR. Say ye?
CAR. He would know if these be not your bride-men.
DOR. Vuh, yes, sir; and look ye, do you see? the
bride-laces that I give at my wedding will serve to tie
rosemary[441] to both your coffins when you come from
hanging,—scab!
OR. Fie, punk! fie, fie, fie!
DOR. Out, you stale, stinking head of garlic, foh, at my
heels!
OR. My head’s cloven.
HIP. O, let the gentlewoman alone, she’s going to
shrift.
AST. Nay, to do penance.
CAR. Ay, ay; go, punk, go to the Cross and be whipt.
DOR. Marry mew, marry muff,[442] marry hang you, goodman
dog! whipt? do ye take me for a base spittle[443] whore?
In troth, gentlemen, you wear the clothes of gentlemen,
but you carry not the minds of gentlemen, to abuse a
gentlewoman of my fashion.
LOD. Fashion? pox a’ your fashions! art not a whore?
DOR. Goodman slave!
DUKE. O fie, abuse her not; let us two talk.—
What mought[444] I call your name, pray?
DOR. I’m not ashamed of my name, sir; my name is
mistress Doll Target, a western gentlewoman.
LOD. Her target against any pike in Milan!
DUKE. Why is this wheel borne after her?
FIRST MAS. She must spin.
DOR. A coarse thread it shall be, as all threads are.
AST. If you spin, then you’ll earn money here too?
DOR. I had rather get half-a-crown abroad than ten
crowns here.
OR. Abroad? I think so.
INF. Dost thou not weep now thou art here?
DOR. Say ye? weep? yes, forsooth, as you did when you
lost your maidenhead; do you not hear how I weep?
[_Sings._
LOD. Farewell, Doll!
DOR. Farewell, dog! [_Exit with Beadles._
DUKE. Past shame, past penitence! Why is that blue
gown?
FIRST MAS. Being stript out of her wanton loose
attire,
That garment she puts on, base to the eye,
Only to clothe her in humility.
DUKE. Are all the rest like this?
FIRST MAS. No, my good lord;
You see this drab swells with a wanton rein,
The next that enters has a different strain.
DUKE. Variety is good; let’s see the rest.
[_Exeunt First and Second Masters and Constable._
BOTS. Your grace sees I’m sound yet, and no bullets hit
me.
DUKE. Come off so, and ’tis well.
LOD. } Here’s the second mess.
AST., _&c._ }

_Re-enter First and Second Masters and Constable;
then_ PENELOPE WHOREHOUND, _dressed like a
citizen’s wife; after her two Beadles, one with a
blue gown, another with chalk[445] and a mallet_.

PEN. I ha’ worn many a costly gown, but I was never
thus guarded[446] with blue coats and beadles and
constables and——
CAR. Alas, fair mistress, spoil not thus your eyes!
PEN. O sweet sir, I fear the spoiling of other places
about me that are dearer than my eyes! If you be
gentlemen, if you be men, or ever came of a woman, pity
my case! stand to me, stick to me, good sir, you are an
old man!
OR. Hang not on me, I prithee; old trees bear no such
fruit.
PEN. Will you bail me, gentlemen?
LOD. Bail thee? art in for debt?
PEN. No; God[447] is my judge, sir, I am in for no
debts; I paid my tailor for this gown the last five
shillings a-week that was behind yesterday.
DUKE. What is your name, I pray?
PEN. Penelope Whorehound, I come of the Whorehounds.—How
does lieutenant Bots?
LOD. } Aha, Bots!
AST., _&c._ }
BOTS. A very honest woman, as I’m a soldier,—a pox Bots
ye!
PEN. I was never in this pickle before; and yet, if I go
amongst citizens’ wives, they jeer at me; if I go among
the loose-bodied gowns,[448] they cry a pox on me,
because I go civilly attired, and swear their trade was
a good trade till such as I am took it out of their
hands. Good lieutenant Bots, speak to these captains to
bail me.
FIRST MAS. Begging for bail still? you are a trim
gossip.
Go give her the blue gown; set her to her chare.[449]
Work, huswife, for your bread; away!
PEN. Out, you dog!—a pox on you all!—women are born
to curse thee—but I shall live to see twenty such
flat-caps[450] shaking dice for a pennyworth of
pippins—out, you blue-eyed rogue!
[_Exit with Beadles._
LOD. } Ha, ha, ha!
AST., _&c._ }
DUKE. Even now she wept and pray’d; now does she curse?
FIRST MAS. Seeing me; if still sh’ad stay’d, this had
been worse.
HIP. Was she ever here before?
FIRST MAS. Five times at least; And thus if men come to
her have her eyes Wrung and wept out her bail.
LOD. } Bots, you know her!
AST., _&c._ }
BOTS. Is there any gentleman here that knows not a
whore, and is he a hair the worse for that?
DUKE. Is she a city-dame, she’s so attir’d?
FIRST MAS. No, my good lord, that’s only but the veil
To her loose body; I have seen her here
In gayer masking suits: as several sauces
Give one dish several tastes, so change of habits
In whores is a bewitching art; to-day
She’s all in colours to besot gallants, then
In modest black to catch the citizen;
And this from their examination’s drawn.
Now shall you see a monster both in shape
And nature quite from these, that sheds no tear,
Nor yet is nice, ’tis a plain ramping bear;
Many such whales are cast upon this shore.
DUKE, } Let’s see her.
LOD., _&c._ }
FIRST MAS. Then behold a swaggering whore.
[_Exeunt First and Second Masters and Constable._
OR. Keep your ground, Bots.
BOTS. I do but traverse to spy advantage how to arm
myself.

_Re-enter First and Second Masters and Constable, after
them a Beadle beating a basin,[451] then_ CATHERINA
BOUNTINALL _with_ MISTRESS HORSELEECH, _after them
another Beadle with a blue head guarded[452] with
yellow_.

CATH. Sirrah, when I cry hold your hands, hold, you
rogue-catcher, hold.—Bawd, are the French chilblains in
your heels, that you can come no faster? are not you,
bawd, a whore’s ancient,[453] and must not I follow my
colours?
MIS. H. O mistress Catherine, you do me wrong to accuse
me here as you do, before the right worshipful! I am
known for a motherly honest woman, and no bawd.
CATH. Marry, foh, honest? burnt at fourteen, seven times
whipt, six times carted, nine times ducked, searched by
some hundred and fifty constables, and yet you are
honest! honest mistress Horseleech! is this world a
world to keep bawds and whores honest? how many times
hast thou given gentlemen a quart of wine in a gallon
pot? how many twelve-penny fees, nay, two-shillings
fees, nay, when any ambassadors ha’ been here, how many
half-crown fees hast thou taken? how many carriers hast
thou bribed for country wenches? how often have I rinced
your lungs in _aqua vitæ_?[454] and yet you are honest!
DUKE. And what were you the whilst?
CATH. Marry, hang you, master slave, who made you an
examiner?
LOD. Well said! belike this devil spares no man.
CATH. What art thou, prithee?
BOTS. Nay, what art thou, prithee?
CATH. A whore: art thou a thief?
BOTS. A thief? no, I defy[455] the calling; I am a
soldier, have borne arms in the field, been in many a
hot skirmish, yet come off sound.
CATH. Sound, with a pox to ye, ye abominable rogue! you
a soldier! you in skirmishes! where? amongst pottle-pots
in a bawdy-house?—Look, look here, you madam Wormeaten,
do not you know him?
MIS. H. Lieutenant Bots, where have ye been this many a
day?
BOTS. Old bawd, do not discredit me, seem not to know
me.
MIS. H. Not to know ye, master Bots? as long as I have
breath I cannot forget thy sweet face.
DUKE. Why, do you know him? he says he is a soldier.
CATH. He a soldier? a pander, a dog that will lick up
sixpence. Do ye hear, you master swine’s-snout, how long
is’t since you held the door for me, and cried, To’t
again, nobody comes! ye rogue you?
LOD. } Ha, ha, ha! you’re smelt out again, Bots.
AST., _&c._ }
BOTS. Pox ruin her nose for’t! and[456] I be not
revenged for this—um, ye bitch!
LOD. D'ye hear ye, madam? why does your ladyship swagger
thus? you’re very brave,[457] methinks.
CATH. Not at your cost, master cod’s-head. Is any man
here blear-eyed to see me brave?
AST. Yes, I am; because good clothes upon a whore’s back
is like fair painting upon a rotten wall.
CATH. Marry muff,[458] master whoremaster! you come upon
me with sentences.
BER. By this light has small sense for’t.
LOD. O fie, fie, do not vex her! and yet methinks a
creature of more scurvy conditions should not know what
a good petticoat were.
CATH. Marry, come out, you’re so busy about my
petticoat, you’ll creep up to my placket,[459] and[460]
ye could but attain the honour: but and[460] the
outsides offend your rogueships, look o’ the lining,
’tis silk.
DUKE. Is’t silk ’tis lined with, then?
CATH. Silk? ay, silk, master slave; you would be glad to
wipe your nose with the skirt on’t. This ’tis to come
among a company of cod’s-heads, that know not how to use
a gentlewoman!
DUKE. Tell her the duke is here.
FIRST MAS. Be modest, Kate, the duke is here.
CATH. If the devil were here, I care not.—Set forward,
ye rogues, and give attendance according to your places!
let bawds and whores be sad, for I’ll sing and[460] the
devil were a-dying.
[_Exit with_ MISTRESS HORSELEECH _and Beadles_.
DUKE. Why before her does the basin ring?
FIRST MAS. It is an emblem of their revelling.
The whips we use let[461] forth their wanton blood,
Making them calm; and, more to calm their pride,
Instead of coaches they in carts do ride.
Will your grace see more of this bad ware?
DUKE. No, shut up shop, we’ll now break up the fair:
Yet ere we part—you, sir, that take upon ye
The name of soldier, that true name of worth,
Which action, not vain boasting, best sets forth,
To let you know how far a soldier’s name
Stands from your title, and to let you see
Soldiers must not be wrong’d where princes be,
This be your sentence.
LOD. } Defend yourself, Bots!
AST., _&c._ }
DUKE. First, all the private sufferance that the house
Inflicts upon offenders, you, as the basest,
Shall undergo it double; after which
You shall be whipt, sir, round about the city,
Then banish’d from the land.
BOTS. Beseech your grace!
DUKE. Away with him, see’t done.
[_Exit_ BOTS _with Constable_.
Panders and whores
Are city-plagues, which being kept alive,
Nothing that looks like goodness e’er can thrive.—
Now, good Orlando, what say you to your bad son-in-law?
OR. Marry, this, my lord; he is my son-in-law, and in
law will I be his father, for if law can pepper him, he
shall be so parboiled, that he shall stink no more i’
th’ nose of the commonwealth.
BEL. Be yet more kind and merciful, good father!
OR. Dost thou beg for him, thou precious man’s meat,
thou? has he not beaten thee, kicked thee, trod on thee?
and dost thou fawn on him like his spaniel? has he not
pawned thee to thy petticoat, sold thee to thy smock,
made ye leap at a crust? yet would’st have me save him?
BEL. O yes, good sir! women shall learn of me
To love their husbands in greatest misery;
Then shew him pity, or you wreck myself.
OR. Have ye eaten pigeons, that you’re so kind-hearted
to your mate? Nay, you’re a couple of wild bears, I’ll
have ye both baited at one stake: but as for this
knave,—the gallows is thy due, and the gallows thou
shalt have; I’ll have justice of the duke, the law
shall have thy life.—What, dost thou hold him? let go
his hand: if thou dost not forsake him, a father’s
everlasting blessing fall upon both your heads! Away,
go, kiss out of my sight; play thou the whore no more,
nor thou the thief again, my house shall be thine, my
meat shall be thine, and so shall my wine, but my
money shall be mine, and yet when I die, so thou dost
not fly high, take all;
Yet, good Matheo, mend.[462]
Thus for joy weeps Orlando, and doth end.
DUKE. Then hear, Matheo: all[463] your woes are stay’d
By your good father-in-law; all your ills
Are clear purg’d from you by his working pills.—
Come, signor Candido, these green young wits,
We see by circumstance, this plot have[464] laid,
Still to provoke thy patience, which they find
A wall of brass; no armour’s like the mind:
Thou’st 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.
[_Exeunt omnes._

`

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THE WITCH.

_A Tragi-Coomodie, called The Witch; Long since acted by His Ma^{ties} Servants at the Black-Friers. Written by Tho. Middleton._

The MS., from which this drama is now given, forms part of Malone’s Collection in the Bodleian Library, Oxford. In 1778 a small impression of _The Witch_ was printed by Isaac Reed, for distribution among his friends: it was intended to exhibit the original text _verbatim et literatim_; but from a collation which was obligingly made for me by the Rev. Stephen Reay, I find that it is not without some errors and omissions.

On the disputed question, whether this drama was composed before or after the appearance of Shakespeare’s _Macbeth_, see the Account of Middleton and his writings.

Some of the incidents in _The Witch_ were suggested by the following passage of Machiavel’s _Florentine History_. “Their [the Lombards’] kingdom descending upon Alboinus a bold and warlike man, they passed the Danube, and encountering Comundus King of the Lepides then possessed of Pannonia, overthrew and slew him. Amongst the captives Alboinus finds Rosamund the daughter of Comundus, and taking her to wife becomes Lord of Pannonia; but out of a brutish fierceness in his nature, he makes a drinking cup of Comundus’s skull, and out of it used to carouse in memory of that victory. Invited now by Narsetes, with whom he had been in league during the Gothick war, he leaves Pannonia to the Huns, who, as we have said, were after the death of Attila returned into their own Countrey, and comes into Italy, which finding so strangely divided, he in an instant possesses himself of Pavia, Milan, Verona, Vicenza, all Tuscany, and the greatest part of Flaminia, at this day called Romania. So that by these great and sudden victories judging himself already Conquerour of Italy, he makes a solemn feast at Verona, and in the heat of wine growing merry, causes Comundus’s skull to be filled full of wine, and would needs have it presented to Queen Rosamund, who sate at table over against him, telling her so loud that all might hear, that in such a time of mirth he would have her drink with her father; those words were as so many darts in the poor ladies bosome, and consulting with revenge, she bethought her self, how Almachildis a noble Lombard, young and valiant, courted one of the Ladies of her bed-chamber; with her she contrives that she should promise Almachildis the kindness of admitting him by night to her chamber; and Almachildis according to her assignation being received into a dark room, lyes with the Queen, whilest he thought he lay with the Lady, who after the fact discovers herself, offering to his choice either the killing of Alboinus and enjoying her and the Crown, or the being made his sacrifice for defiling his bed. Almachildis consents to kill Alboinus; but they seeing afterwards their designs of seizing the kingdom prove unsuccessful, nay rather fearing to be put to death by the Lombards (such love bore they to Alboinus) they fled with all the Royal Treasure to Longinus at Ravenna,” &c. _English translation_, 1674, pp. 17, 18.

See also _Histoires Tragiques_ de Belleforest, 1616, t. iv. Hist. lxxiii.

TO THE

TRULY WORTHY AND GENEROUSLY AFFECTED

THOMAS HOLMES, ESQUIRE.

NOBLE SIR,

As a true testimony of my ready inclination to your service, I have, merely upon a taste of your desire, recovered[465] into my hands, though not without much difficulty, this ignorantly ill-fated labour of mine.

Witches are, _ipso facto_, by the law condemned, and that only, I think, hath made her lie so long in an imprisoned obscurity. For your sake alone she hath thus far conjured herself abroad, and bears no other charms about her but what may tend to your recreation, nor no other spell but to possess you with a belief, that as she, so he that first taught her to enchant, will always be

Your devoted
THO. MIDDLETON.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

_Duke._
_Lord Governor of Ravenna._
SEBASTIAN, _contracted to Isabella_.
FERNANDO, _his friend_.
ANTONIO, _husband to Isabella_.
ABERZANES, } _gentlemen_.
ALMACHILDES, }
GASPARO, }
HERMIO, } _servants to Antonio_.
FIRESTONE, _Hecate’s son_.
_Servants, &c._

_Duchess._
ISABELLA, _wife to Antonio, and niece to the governor_.
FRANCISCA, _sister to Antonio_.
AMORETTA, _the duchess’s woman_.
FLORIDA, _a courtesan_.
HECATE, _the chief witch_.
STADLIN, }
HOPPO, } _witches_.
_Other Witches, &c._

Scene, RAVENNA and its neighbourhood.

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THE WITCH.