Clo. Indeed, it do's stinke in some sort, Sir: But yet Sir I would proue
Duke. Nay, if the diuell haue giuen thee proofs for sin Thou wilt proue his. Take him to prison Officer: Correction, and Instruction must both worke Ere this rude beast will profit
Elb. He must before the Deputy Sir, he ha's giuen him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a Whore-master: if he be a Whore-monger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand
Duke. That we were all, as some would seeme to bee From our faults, as faults from seeming free.
Enter Lucio.
Elb. His necke will come to your wast, a Cord sir
Clo. I spy comfort, I cry baile: Here's a Gentleman, and a friend of mine
Luc. How now noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What is there none of Pigmalions Images newly made woman to bee had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What saist thou to this Tune, Matter, and Method? Is't not drown'd i'th last raine? Ha? What saist thou Trot? Is the world as it was Man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The tricke of it? Duke. Still thus, and thus: still worse? Luc. How doth my deere Morsell, thy Mistris? Procures she still? Ha? Clo. Troth sir, shee hath eaten vp all her beefe, and she is her selfe in the tub
Luc. Why 'tis good: It is the right of it: it must be so. Euer your fresh Whore, and your pouder'd Baud, an vnshun'd consequence, it must be so. Art going to prison Pompey? Clo. Yes faith sir
Luc. Why 'tis not amisse Pompey: farewell: goe say I sent thee thether: for debt Pompey? Or how? Elb. For being a baud, for being a baud
Luc. Well, then imprison him: If imprisonment be the due of a baud, why 'tis his right. Baud is he doubtlesse, and of antiquity too: Baud borne. Farwell good Pompey: Commend me to the prison Pompey, you will turne good husband now Pompey, you will keepe the house
Clo. I hope Sir, your good Worship wil be my baile? Luc. No indeed wil I not Pompey, it is not the wear: I will pray (Pompey) to encrease your bondage if you take it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the more: Adieu trustie Pompey. Blesse you Friar
Duke. And you
Luc. Do's Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha? Elb. Come your waies sir, come
Clo. You will not baile me then Sir? Luc. Then Pompey, nor now: what newes abroad Frier? What newes? Elb. Come your waies sir, come
Luc. Goe to kennell (Pompey) goe: What newes Frier of the Duke? Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any? Luc. Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia: other some, he is in Rome: but where is he thinke you? Duke. I know not where: but wheresoeuer, I wish him well
Luc. It was a mad fantasticall tricke of him to steale from the State, and vsurpe the beggerie hee was neuer borne to: Lord Angelo Dukes it well in his absence: he puts transgression too't
Duke. He do's well in't
Luc. A little more lenitie to Lecherie would doe no harme in him: Something too crabbed that way, Frier
Duk. It is too general a vice, and seueritie must cure it
Luc. Yes in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied, but it is impossible to extirpe it quite, Frier, till eating and drinking be put downe. They say this Angelo was not made by Man and Woman, after this downe-right way of Creation: is it true, thinke you? Duke. How should he be made then? Luc. Some report, a Sea-maid spawn'd him. Some, that he was begot betweene two Stock-fishes. But it is certaine, that when he makes water, his Vrine is congeal'd ice, that I know to bee true: and he is a motion generatiue, that's infallible