Duke. Oh, Bellafront!—
And, catching her fast, cries, My Bellafront!
Car. A drench that’s able to kill a horse, cannot kill this disease of smock smelling, my lord, if it have once eaten deep.
Duke. I’ll try all physic, and this medicine first:
I have directed warrants strong and peremptory
To purge our city Milan, and to cure
The outward parts, the suburbs, for the attaching
Of all those women, who like gold want weight,
Cities, like ships, should have no idle freight.
Car. No, my lord, and light wenches are no idle freight; but what’s your grace’s reach in this?
Duke. This, Carolo. If she whom my son doats on,
Be in that muster-book enrolled, he’ll shame
Ever t’approach one of such noted name.
Car. But say she be not?
Duke. Yet on harlots’ heads
New laws shall fall so heavy, and such blows shall
Give to those that haunt them, that Hippolito
If not for fear of law, for love to her,
If he love truly, shall her bed forbear.
Car. Attach all the light heels i’th’ city, and clap ’em up? why, my lord, you dive into a well unsearchable: all the whores within the walls, and without the walls? I would not be he should meddle with them for ten such dukedoms; the army that you speak on is able to fill all the prisons within this city, and to leave not a drinking room in any tavern besides.
Duke. Those only shall be caught that are of note;
Harlots in each street flow:
The fish being thus i’th net, ourself will sit,
And with eye most severe dispose of it.
Come, girl. [Exeunt Duke and Infelice.