_Coc._ List then:--a bawd; first for her profession or vocation, it is most worshipful of all the twelve companies; for, as that trade is most honourable that sells the best commodities--as the draper is more worshipful than the pointmaker, the silkman more worshipful than the draper, and the goldsmith more honourable than both, little Mary, so the bawd above all: her shop has the best ware; for where these sell but cloth, satins, and jewels, she sells divine virtues, as virginity, modesty, and such rare gems; and those not like a petty chapman, by retail, but like a great merchant, by wholesale; wa, ha, ho! And who are her customers? Not base corn-cutters or sowgelders, but most rare wealthy knights, and most rare bountiful lords, are her customers. Again, whereas no trade or vocation profiteth but by the loss and displeasure of another--as the merchant thrives not but by the licentiousness of giddy[20] and unsettled youth; the lawyer, but by the vexation of his client; the physician, but by the maladies of his patient--only my smooth-gumm'd bawd lives by others' pleasure, and only grows rich by others' rising. O merciful gain, O righteous in-come! So much for her vocation, trade, and life. As for their death, how can it be bad, since their wickedness is always before their eyes, and a death's[21] head most commonly on their middle-finger? To conclude, 'tis most certain they must needs both live well and die well, since most commonly they live in Clerkenwell,[22] and die in Bride-well. _Dixi, Mary._ 158 _Enter_ FREEVILL _and_ MALHEUREUX. _Free._ Come along, yonder's the preface or exordium to my wench, the bawd. Fetch, fetch! What! Mr. Cocledemoy, is your knaveship yet stirring? Look to it, Mulligrub lies[23] for you. _Enter_ COCLEDEMOY. _Coc._ The more fool he; I can lie for myself, worshipful friend. Hang toasts! I vanish. Ha! my fine boy, thou art a scholar, and hast read Tully's _Offices_, my fine knave. Hang toasts! _Free._ The vintner will toast you, and he catch you. _Coc._ I will draw the vintner to the stoop, and when he runs low, tilt him. Ha! my fine knave, art going to thy recreation? 170 _Free._ Yes, my capricious rascal. _Coc._ Thou wilt look like a fool then, by and by. _Free._ Look like a fool, why? _Coc._ Why, according to the old saying: a beggar when he is lousing of himself, looks like a philosopher; a hard-bound philosopher, when he is on the stool, looks like a tyrant; and a wise man, when he is in his belly act, looks like a fool. God give your worship good rest! grace and mercy keep your syringe straight, and your lotium unspilt. 180 _Enter_ FRANCESCHINA. _Free._ See, sir, this is she. _Mal._ This? _Free._ This.