_Alg._ Is no more respect Due to [t]his rod of justice? _Mal._ Do you dispute? Good Doctor of the Dungeon, not a word more, --If you do, my Lord _Vitelli_ knows it. _Alg._ Why I am big enough to answer him, Or any man. _Mal._ 'Tis well. [Vitelli _within_. _Vit. Malroda._ _Alg._ How? _Mal._ You know the voice, and now crowch like a Cur, Tane worrying sheep: I now could have you guelded For a Bawd rampant: but on this submission For once I spare you. _Alg._ I will be reveng'd-- My honorable Lord. _Enter_ Vitel. _Vit._ There's for thy care. _Alg._ I am mad, stark mad: proud Pagan scorn her host? I would I were but valiant enough to kick her, _Enter_ Piorato, _and_ Clara _above_. I'l[d] wish no manhood else. _Mal._ What's that? _Alg._ I am gone. [_Exit._ _Pio._ You see I have kept my word. _Cla._ But in this object Hardly deserv'd my thanks. _Pio._ Is there ought else You will command me? _Cla._ Only your sword Which I must have: nay willingly I yet know To force it, and to use it. _Pio._ 'Tis yours Lady. _Cla._ I ask no other guard. _Pio._ If so I leave you: And now, if that the Constable keep his word, A poorer man may chance to gull a Lord. [_Exit._ _Mal._ By this good ---- you shall not. _Vit._ By this ---- I must, and will, _Malroda_; What do you make A stranger of me? _Mal._ I'll be so to you, And you shall find it. _Vit._ These are your old arts T'endear the game you know I come to hunt for, Which I have born too coldly. _Mal._ Do so still, For if I heat you, hang me. _Vit._ If you do not I know who'll starve for't: why, thou shame of women, Whose folly, or whose impudence is greater Is doubtful to determine; this to me That know thee for a whore. _Mal._ And made me one, Remember that. _Vit._ Why should I but grow wise And tye that bounty up, which nor discretion Nor honor can give way to; thou wouldst be A Bawd e're twenty, and within a Month A barefoot, lowzie, and diseased whore, And shift thy lodgings oftner than a rogue That's whipt from post to post. _Mal._ Pish: all our Colledge Know you can rail well in this kind. _Cla._ For me He never spake so well. _Vit._ I have maintain'd thee The envy of great fortunes, made thee shine As if thy name were glorious: stuck thee full Of jewels, as the firmament of Stars, And in it made thee so remarkable That it grew questionable, whether virtue poor, Or vice so set forth as it is in thee, Were even by modesties self to be preferr'd, And am I thus repaid?