_1st Judge._ That worthy attribute of gentry which Your habit draws from ignorant respect Your name deserves not, nor yourself the name Of woman, since you are the poison that Infects the honour of all womanhood. _Cata._ My lord, I am a gentlewoman; yet I must confess my poverty compels My life to a condition lower than My birth or breeding. _2nd Judge._ Tush, we know your birth. _1st Judge._ But, under colour to profess the sale Of tires and toys for gentlewomen's pride, You draw a frequentation of men's wives To your licentious house, and there abuse Their husbands.-- _Fres._ Good my lord, her rent is great. The good gentlewoman has no other thing To live by but her lodgings. So she's forced To let her fore-rooms out to others, and Herself contented to lie backwards. _2nd Judge._ So. _1st Judge._ Here is no evidence accuses you For accessories to the murder, yet Since from the spring of lust, which you preserved And nourished, ran the effusion of that blood, Your punishment shall come as near to death As life can bear it. Law cannot inflict Too much severity upon the cause Of such abhorred effects. _2nd Judge._ Receive your sentence. Your goods (since they were gotten by that means Which brings diseases) shall be turned to the use Of hospitals. You carted through the streets According to the common shame of strumpets, Your bodies whipped, till with the loss of blood You faint under the hand of punishment. Then that the necessary force of want May not provoke you to your former life, You shall be set to painful labour, whose Penurious gains shall only give you food To hold up Nature, mortify your flesh, And make you fit for a repentant end. _All._ O good my lord! _1st Judge._ No more. Away with 'em. [_Exeunt_ CATAPLASMA, SOQUETTE, _and_ FRESCO. _Enter_ LANGUEBEAU SNUFFE. _2nd Judge._ Now, Monsieur Snuffe! A man of your profession Found in a place of such impiety! _Lang._ I grant you. The place is full of impurity. So much the more need of instruction and reformation. The purpose that carried me thither was with the spirit of conversion to purify their uncleanness, and I hope your lordship will say the law cannot take hold o' me for that. _1st Judge._ No, sir, it cannot; but yet give me leave To tell you that I hold your wary answer Rather premeditated for excuse Then spoken out of a religious purpose. Where took you your degrees of scholarship? _Lang._ I am no scholar, my lord. To speak the sincere truth, I am Snuffe the tallow-chandler. _2nd Judge._ How comes your habits to be altered thus? _Lang._ My Lord Belforest, taking a delight in the cleanness of my conversation, withdrew me from that unclean life and put me in a garment fit for his society, and my present profession.