I beseech your Grace, though your eye be so piercing as 2054under a poor blue coat to cull out an honest father from 2055an old servingman, yet, good my lord, discover not the plot 2056to any but only this gentleman that is now to be an 2057actor in our ensuing comedy.

Thou hast thy wish, Orlando. Pass unknown;

4.2.32059Sforza shall only go along with thee,

4.2.42060To see that warrant served upon thy son.

To attach him upon felony for two pedlars, isʼt not so?

Right, my noble knight. Those pedlars were two 2063knaves of mine; he fleeced the men before, and now he 2064purposes to flay the master. He will rob me; his teeth water to 2065be nibbling at my gold. But this shall hang him by thʼgills, till 2066I pull him on shore.

Away; ply you the business.

Thanks to your Grace. But, my good lord, for my 2069daughter –

You know what I have said.

And remember what I have sworn. Sheʼs more 2072honest, on my soul, than one of the Turkʼs wenches watched 2073by a hundred eunuchs.

So she had need, for the Turks make them whores.

Heʼs a Turk that makes any woman a whore; heʼs 2076no true Christian, Iʼm sure. I commit your Grace.

Infelice?

Here, sir.

Signor Frescobaldo –

Frisking again? Pacheco!

Uds-so, Pacheco! Weʼll have some sport with this 2082warrant; ʼtis to apprehend all suspected persons in the 2083house. Besides, thereʼs one Bots, a pander, and one Madam 2084Horseleech, a bawd, that have abused my friend; those two 2085conies will we ferret into the purse-net.

Let me alone for dabbing them oʼthʼ neck. Come, 2087come.

Do ye hear, gallants? Meet me anon at Mattheoʼs.

Enough.

4.2.21.1Thʼold fellow sings that note thou didst before,

4.2.222091Only his tunes are that she is no whore,

4.2.232092But that she sent his letters and his gifts

4.2.242093Out of a noble triumph oʼer his lust,

4.2.252094To show she trampled his assaults in dust.

ʼTis a good, honest servant, that old man.

I doubt no less.

I doubt no less. And it may be my husband,

4.2.282098Because when once this woman was unmasked

4.2.292099He levelled all her thoughts and made them fit,

4.2.302100Now heʼd mar all again to try his wit.

It may be so, too, for to turn a harlot

4.2.322102Honest it must be by strong antidotes:

4.2.332103ʼTis rare, as to see panthers change their spots.

4.2.342104And when sheʼs once a star fixed and shines bright,

4.2.352105Though ʼtwere impiety then to dim her light,

4.2.362106Because we see such tapers seldom burn,

4.2.372107Yet ʼtis the pride and glory of some men

4.2.382108To change her to a blazing star again;

4.2.392109And it may be Hippolito does no more.

4.2.402110[Aloud to the Gentlemen] It cannot be but youʼre acquainted all

4.2.412111With that same madness of our son-in-law,

4.2.422112That dotes so on a courtesan.

That dotes so on a courtesan. Yes, my lord.

All the city thinks heʼs a whoremonger.

Yet I warrant heʼll swear no man marks him.

ʼTis like so, for when a man goes a-wenching is as if 2117he had a strong stinking breath; everyone smells him out, 2118yet he feels it not, though it be ranker than the sweat of 2119sixteen bearwarders.

I doubt, then, you have all those stinking breaths;

4.2.472121You might be all smelt out.

Troth, my lord, I think we are all as you haʼ been in 2123your youth when you went a-maying; we all love to hear 2124the cuckoo sing upon other menʼs trees.

Itʼs well yet you confess.

Itʼs well yet you confess. [To Infelice] But, girl, thy bed

4.2.502126Shall not be parted with a courtesan. –

4.2.51ʼTis strange!

4.2.522127No frown of mine, no frown of the poor lady –

4.2.532128My abused child, his wife – no care of fame,

4.2.542129Of honour, heaven or hell, no not that name

4.2.552130Of common strumpet, can affright or woo

4.2.562131Him to abandon her. The harlot does undo him;

4.2.572132She has bewitched him, robbed him of his shape,

4.2.582133Turned him into a beast. His reasonʼs lost.

4.2.592134You see he looks wild, does he not?

You see he looks wild, does he not? I haʼ noted

4.2.60New moons 2136inʼs face, my lord, all full of change.

Heʼs no more like unto Hippolito

4.2.622138Than dead men are to living – never sleeps,

4.2.632139Or if he do, itʼs dreams; and in those dreams

4.2.642140His arms work, and then cries ‘Sweet –ʼ Whatʼs her 2141name?

4.2.65[To Astolfo] Whatʼs the drabʼs name?

[To Astolfo] Whatʼs the drabʼs name? In troth, my lord, I know not;

4.2.662143I know no drabs, not I.

I know no drabs, not I. O, Bellafront!

4.2.672145And catching her fast cries ‘My Bellafront!ʼ

A drench thatʼs able to kill a horse cannot kill this 2147disease of smock-smelling, my lord, if it have once eaten 2148deep.

Iʼll try all physic, and this medʼcine first:

4.2.702150I have directed warrants strong and peremptory –

4.2.712151To purge our city Milan, and to cure

4.2.72The outward 2152parts, the suburbs – for the attaching

4.2.732153Of all those women who, like gold, want weight.

4.2.742154Cities, like ships, should have no idle freight.

No, my lord, and light wenches are no idle freight. 2156But whatʼs your Graceʼs reach in this?

This, Carolo: if she whom my son dotes on

4.2.772158Be in that muster-book enrolled, heʼll shame

4.2.782159Ever tʼapproach one of such noted name.

But say she be not?

But say she be not? Yet on harlotsʼ heads

4.2.802162New laws shall fall so heavy, and such blows

4.2.81Shall 2163give to those that haunt them, that Hippolito,

4.2.822164If not for fear of law, for love to her,

4.2.832165If he love truly, shall her bed forbear.

Attach all the light heels iʼthʼ city and clap ʼem up? 2167Why, my lord, you dive into a well unsearchable. All the 2168whores within the walls, and without the walls? I would not 2169be he should meddle with them for ten such dukedoms; 2170the army that you speak on is able to fill all the prisons 2171within this city, and to leave not a drinking-room in any 2172tavern besides.

They only shall be caught that are of note;

4.2.862174Harlots in each street flow.

4.2.872175The fish being thus iʼthʼ net, ourself will sit,

4.2.882176And with eye most severe dispose of it. –

4.2.89Come, girl.

Arraign the poor whore!

Iʼll not miss that sessions.

Nor I.

Nor I, 2181though I hold up my hand there myself.