SCENE V.

Enter Lucio.

Elb. His neck will come to your waist, 5 a cord, Sir.

Clown. I fpy comfort; I cry, bail; here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine.

6

Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? what, at the wheels of Cafar? art thou led in triumph? what, is there none of Pigmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting it clutch'd? what reply? ha? what fayft thou to this tune, matter and method? is't not drown'd i'th' laft rain?? ha? what fay'it thou, trot? is the world as it was, man? which is the way? * is it fad and few words? or how? the trick of it? Duke. Still thus and thus; ftill worse!

ingenious, but I know not whether the fenfe may not be restored with lefs change. Let us confider.it. Lucio, a prating fap, meets his old friend going to pri fun, and pours out upon him his impertinent interrogatories, to which, when the poor fellow makes no answer, he adds. What reply? ba? what say ft thou to this? tune, matter, and method,-is't not? drown'd i' th' laft rain? ha ?..what jay'st thou, trot ? &c.] it is a common phrase used in low raillery of a man crest-fallen and dejected, that he looks like a dresun'd puppy. Lucio, therefore. afks him whether he was drown'd in the laft rain, and therefore cannot speak.

*—which is the way ?] What is the mode now?

Lucio. How doth my dear morfel, thy mistress ? procures fhe ill? ha? fheill?

Clown. Troth, Sir, fhe hath eaten up all her beef, and fhe is herself in the tub. "

Lucio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be fo. Ever your fresh whore, and your powder'd bawd; an unfhunn'd confequence, it must be fo. Art going to prifon, Pompey ?

Clown Yes, faith, Sir.

Lucio. Why, 'tis not amifs, Pompey, farewel: go, fay, I fent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how?? Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd.

Lucio. Well, then imprifon him; if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his Right. Bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd born. Farewel, good Pompey, commend me to the prifon, Pompey; you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.

Clown. I hope, Sir, your good Worship will be my

bail.

Lucio. No, indeed, will 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, trufty Pompey. Blefs you, Friar, Duke. And you.

Lucio. Does Bridget paint ftill, Pompey? ha?·
Elb. Come your ways, Sir, come.

Clown. You will not bail me then, Sir?

Lucio. Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad,

Friar? what news?

8in the tub.] The method of cure for venereal complaints is grofly called the powderingtub.

9-go, fay, I fent thee thither. For debt, Pompey or bow?] It should be pointed thus, Go, fay, I fent thee thither for debt. Pompey; or how - i. e. to

hide the ignominy of thy cafe, fay, I fent thee to prison for debt, or whatever other pretence thou fanciest better. The other humourously replies, For being a bawd, for being a bard, i. e. the true caufe is the mott honourable. This is in characWARBURTON. Elb.

ter

Elb. Come your ways, Sir, come.
Lucio. Go-to kennel, Pompey-go:

[Exeunt Elbow, Clown and Officers.

What news, Friar, of the Duke?

Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any? Lucio. Some fay, he is with the emperor of Ruffia; other Some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?

Duke. I know not where; but wherefoever, I wish him well.

Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the ftate, and ufurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angel dukes it well in his abfence; he puts Tranfgreffion to't.

Duke. He does well in't.

Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him; fomething too crabbed that way, Friar. Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity muft cure it.

1

Lucio. Yes, in good footh, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd; but it is impoffible to extirp it quite, Friar, 'till eating and drinking be put down. They fay, this Angelo was not made by man and woman after the downright way of creation. Is it true, think you?

Duke. How should he be made then?

Lucio. Some report a fea-maid fpawn'd him. Some, that he was got between two flock fifhes. But it is

It is too general a vice.] The occafion of the obfervation was Lucio's faying, that it ought to be treated with a little more lenity; and his infwer to it 18, The vice is of great kindred. Nothing can be more abfurd than all this. From the occafion, and

the answer, therefore, it appears, that Shakespeare wrote,

It is too GENTLE a vice. which fignifying both indulgent and well bred, Lucio humourously takes it in the latter fenfe.

WARBURTON.

certain,

certain, that when he makes water, his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion ungenerative, that's infallible.

2

Duke. You are pleafant, Sir, and speak apace.

Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece to take away the life of a man? would the Duke, that is abfent, have done this? ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred baftards, he would have paid for the nurfing a thoufan. He had fome feeling of the fport, he know the fervice, and that inftructed him to mercy.

Duke. I never heard the abfent Duke much detected for women; he was not inclin'd that way.

Lucio. Oh, Sir, you are deceiv'd.

Duke. 'Tis not poffible.

Lucio. Who, not the Duke? yes, your beggar of fifty-and his ufe was, to put a ducket in her clackdifh. The Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too, that let me inform you.

Duke. You do him wrong, furely.

Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of his. A fhy fellow was the Duke; and, I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing.

Duke. What pr'ythee might be the cause?

Lucio. No-pardon-'tis a fecret must be lockt within the teeth and the lips. But this I can let you underftand. The greater file of the fubject held the Duke 3 to be wile.

Duke. Wife? why, no queftion, but he was.

Lucio. A very fuperficial, ignorant, unweighing fel

low.

Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking the very ftream of his life, and the bufinefs he hath helmed, muft, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but teftimonied in his own bringings forth, and he fhall appear to the envious, a scholar, a ftatefman, and a foldier. Therefore, you speak unfkilfully; or if your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd' in your malice.

Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him.

Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love.

Lucio. Come, Sir, I know what I know.

Duke. I can hardly believe that, fince you know not what you speak. But if ever the Duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me defire you to make your anfwer before him. If it be honeft you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it. I am bound to call upon you, and, I pray you, your name?

Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke.

Duke. He fhall know you better, Sir, if I may live to report you.

Lucio. I fear you not.

Duke. O, you hope, the Duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an oppofite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm; you'll forfwear this again.

Lucio. I'll be hang'd firft: thou art deceiv'd in me, Friar. But no more of this. Canft thou tell, if Claudio die to morrow, or no?

Duke. Why fhould he die, Sir?

Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-difh. I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again; this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency. Sparrows mult not build in his houfeeaves, because they are lecherous. The Duke yet

would