Count. Is the Duke private?

Arr. He is alone, but I think your Lordship may enter.

Gond. Who's with the Duke?

Arr. The Count is new gone in; but the Duke will come forth, before you can be weary of waiting.

Gond. I will attend him here.

Arr. I must wait without the door. [Exit Arrigo.

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] 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.

Arri. I do accept your money, walk here, and when the Duke comes out, you shall have fit 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. [Exit Arri.

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.

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 [only] 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 tha[t] favour a poor distressed countrey Gentlewoman. [Exit Gentlew.

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.

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 [cover] my deeds, which sometimes were loose enough, I pretended it, as it is wisdom, to keep close our 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?

Duke. I will read this at better leisure: [Gondarino, where is the Lady?]

Count. At his house.

Gond. No, she is departed thence.

Count. Whither?

Pan. Here hope I to meet my Citizen, and [here] 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 [her] 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.

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 fail 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 stockin[g]s are of Naples, they are silk?

Mer. Ye are again beside your Text, Sir, they're of the best of Wooll, and [they cleeped] 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.

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 [have] some worthy hands set to 'um for probation: but we forget our selves.

Pand. Sir, enter when you please, and all good language tip your tongue.

Merc. All that love Learning pray for my good success.

Laz. [Boy, whereabouts] are we?

Boy. Sir, by all tokens this is the house, bawdy I am sure, [by] 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 mee[re] 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 fire, 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.

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 [ere] you can get it.

Julia. What news my sweet rogue, my dear sins-broker, what? good news?

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[s].

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 [free] 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 stuff 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 [the] Lord that sent her, or some from him, we have in charge from his servants.

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?

Jul. 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 [so] now: but you'd ye stay till supper?

Laz. Sure I have offended highly, and much, and my [infl]ictions 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. [Lady, 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.

2 Int. This is the villain, lay [hands] 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.

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 it 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.

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 [be] one of these [same] 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 [have] 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.

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.

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.

Oria. 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: 'faith 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.