Bell. In this house. [Exeunt Bellafront and 2nd Master.
Duke. Fetch you him hither—Is
this the party?
Orl. 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?
Orl. My two pedlars are packed together, my good lord.
Duke. ’Tis well: this day in judgment shall be spent:
Vice, like a wound lanced, 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.
1st Mast. We’ll place you, lady, in some private room.
Inf. Pray do so. [Exit with 1st Master, who returns alone.
Orl. Thus nice dames swear, it is unfit their eyes
Should view men carved up for anatomies,[309]
Yet they’ll see all, so they may stand unseen;
Many women sure will sin behind a screen.