1 Honest Whore – Act Two, Scene One

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Enter ROGER with a stool, cushion, looking-glass, and chafing-dish.   Those being set down, he pulls out of his pocket a vial with white colour in it, and two boxes, one with white, another red painting.  He places all things in order and a candle by them, singing with the ends of old ballads as he does it.  At last BELLAFRONT, as he rubs his cheek with the colours, whistles within.

ROGER
Anon, forsooth!

BELLAFRONT
[Within.] What are you playing the rogue about?

ROGER
About you, forsooth:   I’m drawing up a hole in your white silk stocking.

BELLAFRONT
[Within.] Is my glass there?  And my boxes of complexion?

ROGER
Yes, forsooth, your boxes of complexion are here, I think; yes, ’tis here.  Here’s your two complexions, and if I had all the four complexions, I should ne’er set a good face upon’t.  Some men I see are born under hard-favour’d planets as well as women.  Zounds, I look worse now than I did before, and it makes her face glister most damnably; there’s knavery in daubing, I hold my life, or else this is only female pomatum.

Enter BELLAFRONT not full ready, without a gown; she sits down, with her bodkin curls her hair, colours her lips.

BELLAFRONT
Where’s my ruff and poker, you blockhead?

ROGER
Your ruff and your poker are ingend’ring together upon the cupboard of the court, or the court-cupboard.

BELLAFRONT
Fetch ’em. Is the pox in your hams, you can go no faster?

ROGER
Would the pox were in your fingers, unless you could leave flinging. Catch! [Exit.

BELLAFRONT
I’ll catch you, you dog, by and by! Do you grumble?

[She sings.]
Cupid is a God, 
As naked as my nail;
I’ll whip him with a rod
If he my true love fail.

Enter ROGER.

ROGER
There’s your ruff. Shall I poke it?

BELLAFRONT
Yes, honest Roger. No, stay: prithee, good boy, hold here.

[Singing.]
Down, down, down, down,
I fall down and arise I never shall.

ROGER
Troth, mistress, then leave the trade if you shall never rise.

BELLAFRONT
What trade, goodman Abram?

ROGER
Why that of down and arise, or the falling trade.

BELLAFRONT
I’ll fall with you by and by.

ROGER
If you do I know who shall smart for’t.
Troth, Mistress, what do I look like now?

BELLAFRONT
Like as you are:  a panderly, sixpenny rascal.

ROGER
I may thank you for that:  no, faith, I look like an old proverb, “Hold the candle before the devil.”

BELLAFRONT
‘Ud’s life, I’ll stick my knife in your guts and you prate to me so. What!

[She sings.]
Well met, pug, the pearl of beauty, umh, umh.
How now, sir knave, you forget your duty, umh, umh.
Marry muff, sir, are you grown so dainty? Fa, la, la, etc.
Is it you, sir? The worst of twenty, fa, la, la, leera la.

Pox on you, how dost thou hold my glass?

ROGER
Why, as I hold your door: with my fingers.

BELLAFRONT
Nay, pray thee, sweet honey Roger, hold up handsomely.

[Sings.]
“Pretty wantons warble, etc.

We shall ha’ guests today, I lay my little maidenhead:  my nose itches so.

ROGER
I said so too last night, when our fleas twing’d me.

BELLAFRONT
So poke my ruff now. My gown, my gown. Have I my fall?
Where’s my fall, Roger?

ROGER
Your fall, forsooth, is behind.                                          [Knocking within.

BELLAFRONT
Gods my pittikins, some fool or other knocks.

ROGER
Shall I open to the fool, mistress?

BELLAFRONT
And all these baubles lying thus? Away with it quickly. Ay, ay, knock and be damn’d, whosoever you be. So, give the fresh salmon line now: let him come ashore, he shall serve for my breakfast, though he go against my stomach.

[Exit ROGER.

Enter ROGER fetching in FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO, and PIORATTO.

FLUELLO
Morrow, coz.

CASTRUCHIO
How does my sweet acquaintance?

PIORATTO
Save thee, little marmoset.  How dost thou, good pretty rogue?

BELLAFRONT
Well, godamercy, good pretty rascal.

FLUELLO
Roger, some light I prithee.

ROGER
You shall, signior, for we that live here in this vale of misery are as dark as hell.

[Exit for a candle.

CASTRUCHIO
Good tobacco, Fluello?

FLUELLO
Smell!

PIORATTO
It may be tickling gear, for it plays with my nose already.

 Enter ROGER.

ROGER
Here’s another light angel, signior.

BELLAFRONT
What? You pied curtal, what’s that you are neighing?

ROGER
I say God send us the light of heaven, or some more angels.

BELLAFRONT
Go fetch some wine, and drink half of it.

ROGER
I must fetch some wine, gentlemen, and drink half of it.

FLUELLO
Here, Roger.

CASTRUCHIO
No, let me send prithee.

FLUELLO
Hold, you canker worm.

ROGER
You shall send both, if you please, signiors.

PIORATTO
Stay, what’s best to drink a-mornings?

ROGER
Hypocras, sir, for my mistress, if I fetch it, is most dear to her.

FLUELLO
Hypocras! There then, here’s a teston for you, you snake.

ROGER
Right, sir, here’s three shillings sixpence for a pottle and a manchet.          [Exit.

CASTRUCHIO
Here’s most Herculean tobacco; ha’ some, acquaintance?

BELLAFRONT
Fah, not I; makes your breath stink, like the piss of a fox.  Acquaintance, where supp’d you last night?

CASTRUCHIO
At a place, sweet acquaintance, where your health danc’d the canaries, i’faith; you should ha’ been there.

BELLAFRONT
Ay, there among your punks. Marry, fah, hang ’em!  Scorn’t!  Will you never leave sucking of eggs in other folks’ hens’ nests?

CASTRUCHIO
Why, in good troth, if you’ll trust me, acquaintance, there was not one hen at the board.  Ask Fluello.

FLUELLO
No, faith, coz; none but cocks. Signior Malavolta drunk to thee.

BELLAFRONT
Oh, a pure beagle!  That horse-leech there?

FLUELLO
And the knight, Sir Oliver Lollio, swore he would bestow a taffeta petticoat on thee but to break his fast with thee.

BELLAFRONT
With me! I’ll choke him then; hang him, mole-catcher!  It’s the dreaming’st snotty-nose.

PIORATTO
Well, many took that Lollio for a fool, but he’s a subtle fool.

BELLAFRONT
Ay, and he has fellows:  of all filthy dry-fisted knights, I cannot abide that he should touch me.

CASTRUCHIO
Why, wench?  Is he scabbed?

BELLAFRONT
Hang him, he’ll not live to be so honest, nor to the credit, to have scabs about him; his betters have ’em.  But I hate to wear out any of his coarse knighthood, because he’s made like an alderman’s nightgown, fac’st all with cony before, and within nothing but fox.  This sweet Oliver will eat mutton till he be ready to burst, but the lean-jaw’d slave will not pay for the scraping of his trencher.

PIORATTO
Plague him, set him beneath the salt, and let him not touch a bit till everyone has had his full cut.

FLUELLO
Sordello the gentleman-usher came into us too; marry, ’twas in our cheese, for he had been to borrow money for his lord of a citizen.

CASTRUCHIO
What an ass is that lord to borrow money of a citizen!

BELLAFRONT
Nay, God’s my pity, what an ass is that citizen to lend money to a lord!

Enter MATHEO and HIPPOLITO, who, saluting the company as a stranger, walks off.  Roger comes in sadly behind them with a pottle-pot and stands aloof off.

MATHEO
Save you gallants. Signior Fluello, exceedingly well met, as I may say.

FLUELLO
Signior Matheo, exceedingly well met too, as I may say.

MATHEO
And how fares my little pretty mistress?

BELLAFRONT
E’en as my little pretty servant; sees three court dishes before her, and not one good bit in them.  [To ROGER.] How now? Why the devil stand’st thou so?  Art in a trance?

ROGER
Yes, forsooth.

BELLAFRONT
Why dost not fill out their wine?

ROGER
Forsooth, ’tis fill’d out already:  all the wine that the signior has bestow’d upon you is cast away, a porter ran a-tilt at me, and so fac’d me down that I had not a drop.

BELLAFRONT
I’m accurs’d to let such a withered artichoke-faced rascal grow under my nose!  Now you look like an old he-cat, going to the gallows:  I’ll be hang’d if he ha’ not put up the money to cony-catch us all.

ROGER
No, truly, forsooth, ’tis not put up yet.

BELLAFRONT
How many gentlemen hast thou served thus?

ROGER
None but five hundred, besides prentices and serving-men.

BELLAFRONT
Dost think I pocket it up at thy hands?

ROGER
Yes, forsooth, I fear you will pocket it up.

BELLAFRONT
Fie, fie, cut my lace, good servant!  I shall ha’ the mother presently, I’m so vex’d at this horse-plum!

FLUELLO
Plague, not for a scald pottle of wine!

MATHEO
Nay, sweet Bellafront, for a little pig’s wash.

CASTRUCHIO
Here, Roger, fetch more.  [Gives money.] A mischance, i’faith, acquaintance.

BELLAFRONT
Out of my sight, thou ungodly puritanical creature!

ROGER
For the tother pottle?  Yes, forsooth.

BELLAFRONT
Spill that too!                                                                               [Exit ROGER.
What gentleman is that, servant?  Your friend?

MATHEO
Gods-so, a stool, a stool!  If you love me, mistress, entertain this gentleman respectively and bid him welcome.

BELLAFRONT
He’s very welcome.  Pray, sir, sit.

HIPPOLITO
Thanks, lady.

FLUELLO
Count Hippolito, is’t not?  Cry you mercy, signior, you walk here all this while and we not heed you?  Let me bestow a stool upon you, beseech you.  You are a stranger here; we know the fashions a’th’house.

CASTRUCHIO
Please you be here, my lord.                                                         [Offers tobacco.

HIPPOLITO
No, good Castruchio.

FLUELLO
You have abandoned the court I see, my lord, since the death of your mistress; well, she was a delicate piece.  Beseech you, sweet; come, let us serve under the colours of your acquaintance still, for all that.  Please you to meet here at the lodging of my coz, I shall bestow a banquet upon you.

HIPPOLITO
I never can deserve this kindness, sir.
What may this lady be whom you call coz?

FLUELLO
Faith, sir, a poor gentlewoman, of passing good carriage, one that has some suits in law, and lies here in an attorney’s house.

HIPPOLITO
Is she married?

FLUELLO
Hah, as all your punks are, a captain’s wife or so!  Never saw her before, my lord?

HIPPOLITO
Never; trust me, a goodly creature.

FLUELLO
By gad, when you know her as we do, you’ll swear she is the prettiest, kindest, sweetest, most bewitching honest ape under the pole! A skin, your satin is not more soft, nor lawn whiter.

HIPPOLITO
Belike then she’s some sale courtesan.

FLUELLO
Troth, as all your best faces are, a good wench.

HIPPOLITO
Great pity that she’s a good wench.

MATHEO
Thou shalt have it, i’faith, mistress. How now, signiors?  What?  Whispering?  Did not I lay a wager I should take you within seven days in a house of vanity?

HIPPOLITO
You did, and I beshrew your heart, you have won.

MATHEO
How do you like my mistress?

HIPPOLITO
Well, for such a mistress:  better, if your mistress be not your master.
I must break manners, gentlemen; fare you well.

MATHEO
‘Sfoot, you shall not leave us!

BELLAFRONT
The gentleman likes not the taste of our company.

FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO & PIORATTO
Beseech you, stay.

HIPPOLITO
Trust me, my affairs beckon for me; pardon me.

MATHEO
Will you call for me half an hour hence here?

HIPPOLITO
Perhaps I shall.

MATHEO
Perhaps?  Fah!  I know you can swear to me you will.

HIPPOLITO
Since you will press me on my word, I will.                                                [Exit.

BELLAFRONT
What sullen picture is this, servant?

MATHEO
It’s Count Hippolito, the brave count.

PIORATTO
As gallant a spirit as any in Milan, you sweet Jew.

FLUELLO
Oh, he’s a most essential gentleman, coz!

CASTRUCHIO
Did you never hear of Count Hippolito, acquaintance?

BELLAFRONT
Marry muff a’ your counts, and be no more life in ’em.

MATHEO
He’s so malcontent!  Sirrah Bellafront, and you be honest gallants, let’s sup together, and have the count with us:  thou shalt sit at the upper end, punk.

BELLAFRONT
Punk, you sous’d gurnet!

MATHEO
King’s truce: come, I’ll bestow the supper to have him but laugh.

CASTRUCHIO
He betrays his youth too grossly to that tyrant melancholy.

MATHEO
All this is for a woman.

BELLAFRONT
A woman?  Some whore!  What sweet jewel is’t?

PIORATTO
Would she heard you.

FLUELLO
Troth, so would I.

CASTRUCHIO
And I, by heaven.

BELLAFRONT
Nay, good servant, what woman?

MATHEO
Pah!

BELLAFRONT
Prithee tell me, a buss and tell me:  I warrant he’s an honest fellow if he take on thus for a wench.  Good rogue, who?

MATHEO
By th’Lord I will not, must not, faith, mistress.  Is’t a match, sirs, this night at th’Antelope?   For there’s best wine and good boys.

FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO & PIORATTO
It’s done; at th’Antelope.

BELLAFRONT
I cannot be there tonight.

MATHEO
Cannot? By th’Lord, you shall.

BELLAFRONT
By the lady, I will not. Shall!

FLUELLO
Why then, put it off till Friday. Wut come then, coz?

BELLAFRONT
Well.

Enter ROGER.

MATHEO
Y’are the waspishest ape.  Roger, put your mistress in mind, your scurvy mistress here, to sup with us on Friday next.  Y’are best come like a madwoman without a band in your waistcoat, and the linings of your kirtle outward, like every common hackney that steals out at the back gate of her sweet knight’s lodging.

BELLAFRONT
Go, go, hang yourself!

CASTRUCHIO
It’s dinner time, Matheo. Shall’s hence?

FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO & PIORATTO
Yes, yes; farewell, wench.

BELLAFRONT
Farewell, boys.                  [Exeunt  FLUELLO, CASTRUCHIO and PIORATTO.
Roger, what wine sent they for?

ROGER
Bastard wine, for if it had been truly begotten, it would not ha’ been asham’d to come in; here’s six shillings to pay for nursing the bastard.

BELLAFRONT
A company of rooks!  Oh, good sweet Roger, run to the poulter’s and buy me some fine larks.

ROGER
No woodcocks?

BELLAFRONT
Yes, faith, a couple, if they be not dear.

ROGER
I’ll buy but one:  there’s one already here.                                                         [Exit.

Enter HIPPOLITO.

HIPPOLITO
Is the gentleman my friend departed, mistress?

BELLAFRONT
His back is but new-turn’d, sir.

HIPPOLITO
Fare you well.

BELLAFRONT
I can direct you to him.

HIPPOLITO
Can you? Pray.

BELLAFRONT
If you please stay, he’ll not be absent long.

HIPPOLITO
I care not much.

BELLAFRONT
Pray sit, forsooth.

HIPPOLITO
I’m hot.                                                                               [Lays aside his sword.
If may use your room, I’ll rather walk.

BELLAFRONT
At your best pleasure.  Whew!  Some rubbers there.

HIPPOLITO
Indeed, I’ll none.  Indeed I will not:  thanks.
Pretty fine lodging.  I perceive my friend
Is old in your acquaintance.

BELLAFRONT
Troth, sir, he comes
As other gentlemen, to spend spare hours;
If yourself like our roof, such as it is,
Your own acquaintance may be as old as his.

HIPPOLITO
Say I did like, what welcome should I find?

BELLAFRONT
Such as my present fortunes can afford.

HIPPOLITO
But would you let me play Matheo’s part?

BELLAFRONT
What part?

HIPPOLITO
Why, embrace you, dally with you, kiss.
Faith, tell me, will you leave him and love me?

BELLAFRONT
I am in bonds to no man, sir.

HIPPOLITO
Why, then
Y’are free for any man:  if any, me.
But I must tell you, lady, were you mine,
You should be all mine:  I could brook no sharers;
I should be covetous and sweep up all.
I should be pleasure’s usurer; faith, I should.

BELLAFRONT
Oh, fate!

HIPPOLITO
Why sigh you, lady? May I know?

BELLAFRONT
‘T has never been my fortune yet to single
Out that one man whose love could fellow mine,
As I have ever wish’d it.  Oh, my stars!
Had I but met with one kind gentleman,
That would have purchas’d sin alone—to himself,
For his own private use, although scarce proper—
Indifferent handsome, meetly legg’d and thighed,
And my allowance reasonable—i’faith,
According to my body—by my troth,
I would have been as true unto his pleasures,
Yea, and as loyal to his afternoons
As ever a poor gentlewoman could be.

HIPPOLITO
This were well now to one but newly fledg’d,
And scarce a day old in this subtle world:
‘Twere pretty art, good birdlime, cunning net.
But come, come, faith, confess: how many men
Have drunk this selfsame protestation
From that red ‘ticing lip?

BELLAFRONT
Indeed, not any.

HIPPOLITO
Indeed?  And blush not!

BELLAFRONT
No, in truth not any.

HIPPOLITO
Indeed!  In truth!  How warily you swear!
‘Tis well; if ill, it be not:  yet had I
The ruffian in me, and were drawn before you
But in light colours, I do know indeed
You would not swear indeed, but thunder oaths
That should shake heaven, drown the harmonious spheres,
And pierce a soul that lov’d her maker’s honour
With horror and amazement.

BELLAFRONT
Shall I swear?
Will you believe me then?

HIPPOLITO
Worst then of all:
Our sins by custom seem at last but small.
Were I but o’er your threshold, a next man,
And after him a next, and then a fourth
Should have this golden hook and lascivious bait
Thrown out to the full length.  Why, let me tell you,
I ha’ seen letters sent from that white hand,
Tuning such music to Matheo’s ear.

BELLAFRONT
Matheo!  That’s true, but if you’ll believe
My honest tongue, mine eyes no sooner met you
But they convey’d and led you to my heart.

HIPPOLITO
Oh, you cannot feign with me!  Why, I know, lady,
This is the common fashion of you all,
To hook in a kind gentleman, and then
Abuse his coin, conveying it to your lover;
And in the end you show him a French trick,
And so you leave him, that a coach may run
Between his legs for breadth.

BELLAFRONT
Oh, by my soul!
Not I:  therein I’ll prove an honest whore
In being true to one, and to no more.

HIPPOLITO
If any be dispos’d to trust your oath,
Let him:  I’ll not be he. I know you feign
All that you speak, ay, for a mingled harlot
Is true in nothing but in being false.
What, shall I teach you how to loathe yourself?
And mildly too, not without sense or reason.

BELLAFRONT
I am content, I would fain loathe myself
If you not love me.

HIPPOLITO
Then if your gracious blood
Be not all wasted, I shall assay to do’t.
Lend me your silence and attention.
You have no soul; that makes you weigh so light:
Heaven’s treasure bought it
And half a crown hath sold it, for your body,
It’s like the common shore that still receives
All the town’s filth.  The sin of many men
Is within you, and thus much I suppose,
That if all your committers stood in rank,
They’d make a lane in which your shame might dwell,
And with their spaces reach from hence to hell.
Nay, shall I urge it more?  There has been known
As many by one harlot, maim’d and dismemb’red,
As would ha’ stuff’d an hospital:  this I might
Apply to you, and perhaps do you right.
Oh, y’are as base as any beast that bears:
Your body is e’en hir’d, and so are theirs!
For gold and sparkling jewels, if he can,
You’ll let a Jew get you with Christian,
Be he a Moor, a Tartar, though his face
Look uglier than a dead man’s skull;
Could the devil put on a human shape,
If his purse shake out crowns, up then he gets.
Whores will be rid to hell with golden bits:
So that y’are crueler than Turks, for they
Sell Christians only, you sell yourselves away.
Why, those that love you, hate you, and will term you
Liquorish damnation, wish themselves half sunk
After the sin is laid out, and e’en curse
Their fruitless riot, for what one begets
Another poisons.  Lust and murder hit:
A tree being often shook, what fruit can knit?

BELLAFRONT
Oh, me unhappy!

HIPPOLITO
I can vex you more:
A harlot is like Dunkirk, true to none,
Swallows both English, Spanish, fulsome Dutch,
Back-door’d Italian, last of all the French.
And he sticks to you, faith, gives you your diet,
Brings you acquainted first with monsieur doctor,
And then you know what follows.

BELLAFRONT
Misery:
Rank, stinking, and most loathsome misery!

HIPPOLITO
Methinks a toad is happier than a whore
That with one poison swells; with thousands more
The other stocks her veins.  Harlot? Fie, fie!
You are the miserablest creatures breathing,
The very slaves of nature; mark me else:
You put on rich attires, others’ eyes wear them,
You eat, but to supply your blood with sin,
And this strange curse e’en haunts you to your graves.
From fools you get, and spend it upon slaves.
Like bears and apes, y’are baited and show tricks
For money, but your bawd the sweetness licks.
Indeed you are their journey-women, and do
All base and damn’d works they list set you to,
So that you ne’er are rich, for do but show me,
In present memory or in ages past,
The fairest and most famous courtesan
Whose flesh was dear’st, that rais’d the price of sin
And held it up, to whose intemperate bosom
Princes, earls, lords, the worst has been a knight,
The mean’st a gentleman, have off’red up
Whole hecatombs of sighs, and rain’d in showers
Handfuls of gold, yet for all this, at last
Diseases suck’d her marrow, then grew so poor
That she has begg’d, e’en at a beggar’s door.
And, wherein heav’n has a finger, when this idol
From coast to coast has leapt on foreign shores,
And had more worship than th’outlandish whores,
When several nations have gone over her,
When for each several city she has seen
Her maidenhead has been new and been sold dear,
Did live well there, and might have died unknown
And undefam’d, back comes she to her own,
And there both miserably lives and dies,
Scorn’d even of those that once ador’d her eyes,
As if her fatal-circled life thus ran:
Her pride should end there where it first began.
What, do you weep to hear your story read?
Nay, if you spoil your cheeks, I’ll read no more.

BELLAFRONT
Oh, yes, I pray, proceed!
Indeed, ’twill do me good to weep indeed.

HIPPOLITO
To give those tears a relish, this I add:
Y’are like the Jews, scatter’d, in no place certain,
Your days are tedious, your hours burdensome;
And were ‘t not for full suppers, midnight revels,
Dancing, wine, riotous meetings, which do drown
And bury quite in you all virtuous thoughts,
And on your eyelids hang so heavily
They have no power to look so high as heaven,
You’d sit and muse on nothing but despair.
Curse that devil lust that so burns up your blood
And in ten thousand shivers break your glass
For his temptation! Say you taste delight,
To have a golden gull from rise to set,
To meet you in his hot luxurious arms,
Yet your nights pay for all:  I know you dream
Of warrants, whips, and beadles, and then start
At a door’s windy creak, think every weasel
To be a constable and every rat
A long-tail’d officer.  Are you now not slaves?
Oh, you have damnation without pleasure for it!
Such is the state of harlots.  To conclude,
When you are old and can well paint no more,
You turn bawd, and are then worse than before.
Make use of this; farewell.

BELLAFRONT
Oh, I pray, stay!

HIPPOLITO
I see Matheo comes not.  Time hath barr’d me;
Would all the harlots in the town had heard me.                                       [Exit.

BELLAFRONT
Stay yet a little longer.  No? Quite gone!
Curs’d be that minute—for it was no more
So soon a maid is chang’d into a whore—
Wherein I first fell, be it forever black!
Yet why should sweet Hippolito shun mine eyes,
For whose true love I would become pure-honest,
Hate the world’s mixtures and the smiles of gold?
Am I not fair?  Why should he fly me then?
Fair creatures are desir’d, not scorn’d of men.
How many gallants have drunk healths to me
Out of their dagger’d arms, and thought them bless’d,
Enjoying but mine eyes at prodigal feasts!
And does Hippolito detest my love?
Oh, sure their heedless lusts but flatt’red me!
I am not pleasing, beautiful nor young;
Hippolito hath spied some ugly blemish,
Eclipsing all my beauties:  I am foul.
Harlot!  Ay, that’s the spot that taints my soul.
His weapon left here?  Oh, fit instrument
To let forth all the poison of my flesh!
Thy master hates me ’cause my blood hath rang’d,
But when ’tis forth, then he’ll believe I’m chang’d.

Enter HIPPOLITO.

HIPPOLITO
Mad woman, what art doing?

BELLAFRONT
Either love me
Or cleave my bosom on thy rapier’s point!
Yet do not neither, for thou then destroy’st
That which I love thee for, thy virtues.  Here, here
Th’art crueler and kill’st me with disdain;
To die so sheds no blood, yet ’tis worse pain.                  [Exit HIPPOLITO.
Not speak to me! Not look! Not bid farewell!
Hated! This must not be. Some means I’ll try.
Would all whores were as honest now as I.                                         [Exit.

Proceed to the next scene

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