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upon him, Sir, a strange pick-lock, which we have fent
to the Deputy.

Duke. Fie, Sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou causest to be done,
That is thy means to live. Dost thou but think,
What 'tis to cram a maw or cloath a back,
From foch a filthy vice i say to thyself,
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. (11)
Canit thou believe thy living is a life,
So finkingly depending! go mend, mend.

Clown. Indeed, it doth stink in some fort, Sir; but yet, Sir, I would prove

Duke. Nay, if the devil hath giv'n thee proofs for fin,
Thou wile prove his. Take him to prison, officer;
Correction and instruction must both work,
Ere this rude beast will profit.

Elb. He must before the Deputy, Sir; he has given 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 seem to be,
Free from all faults, as faults from seeming free!

Enter Lucio.
Elb, His neck will come to your wafte, a cord, Sir.

Clown. I spy comfort: I cry, bail: here's a gentle. man, and a friend of mine.

(11) I drink, I eat away myself, and livre.] Thus hitherto in all the Impresions. This is one very excellent Instance of the Sagacity of our Editors, and it were to be wished heartily, they would have obliged us with their physical Solution, how a Man can cat away himself and live. The ingenious Mr. B'fhip, when we read this Play together, gave me that most certain Emendation, which I have substituted in the Room of the former foolish Reading; by the help whereof, we have this easy Sense; that the Clown fed himself, and put cloaths on his back, by exercising the vile Trade of a Bawd.

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Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? what at the wheels of Cæsar 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 fay't thou to this tune, matter and method is't not drown'd i'th' last rain? ha? what fay'st thou, trot? is the world as it was, man? which is the way is it fad and few words i or how? the trick of it?

Duże. Still thus and thus ; Mill worse !

Lucio, How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress ? procures the still? ha?

Clover. Troth, Sir, ne hath eaten' up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.

Lucie. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it ; it must be fo. Ever your frelli whore, and your powder'd bawd; an unhuand confequence, it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey?

Clown. Yes, faith, Sir. Lucie. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey: farewel : go, say, I sent 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 prison, 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 noe patiently, why, your mettle is the inore: adieu, trusty Pompey. Bless you, Friar,

Duke, And you.
Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompëy? 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?

Elb,

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

(Exeunt Elbow, Clown and Oficers. What news, Friar of the Duke?

Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any ?

Lucio. Some say, 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 state, and ufurp. the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to’t.

Duke. He does well in'ts tiek

Lucio. A little more lenity to leachery would do no harm in him ; something too crabbed that way, Friar. Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must

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 thens

Lucio. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him. Some, that he was got between two flock-fishes. But it is certain, that when he makes water, his" urine is congeald ice ; that I know to be true: (12) and he is a motion ungenerative, that's infallible.

cure it.

(12)

and he's a Motion generative : that's infallible. ] This may be Sense; and Lucia, perhaps, may mean, that tho? Angelo have the Organs of Generation, yet that he makes no more Ule of them than if he were an inanimate Puppet. But I rather think our Author wrote ---and he is a Motion ungenerative, because Lucio again in this very Scene says ;---tbis, ungenitured Agent soll unpeaple the Province with Continency.

QA

Duke,

Duke. You are pleasant; Sir, and speak apace.

Lucis. 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 absent, have done this? ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thoufand. He had some feeling of the sport, he knew the fervice, and that instructed him to mercy.

Dake, I never heard the abfent Duke much detected for women; he was not inclined that way.

Lucio. Oh, Sir, you are deceiv d.
Duke. 'Tis not possible.

Lucio. Who, not the Duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his ufc was, to put a ducket in her clack-dith ; che Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too, ibat let me inform you.

Duke. You do him wrong, furely.

Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of his : a shy fellow was the Duke; and, I believe, I know the cause of his with drawing.

Duke. What pr’ythee inight be the cause?

Lucia. No: pardon : 'tis a secret must be lockt with. in the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you underItand, the greater file of the subject held the Dake to be wile.

Duke. Wise? why, no question, but he was.
Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.

Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking: she very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon warranted Need, give him a better proclamaticn. Let him be but teftimoned in his own bringings forth, and he shall appear to the envious;'a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore, you speak unskilfully; 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.

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Lucio. Come, Sir, I know what I know. Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But if ever the Duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your anlwer before him: if it be honest you have spoke, you Jhaye 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 fall know you better, Şir, if I may live to report you.

Lucio. I fear you not. 1 Duken 0,:you hope, the duke will return no-more ; or you imaging me too, unhurtful, an opposite ; but, indeed. I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this again?

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

Duke. Why should he die, Sir?

Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-dish : 1 would, the doke, we talk of, were return'd again; this

ungenitur'd agent will on people the province with con: stinency. Sparrows must not build in his house-eaves,

because they are leacherous. The Duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light; would he were return'd! Marry, this Claidio is condemned for untrolling. Farewel, good Friar; I prythee, pray for me: (13) the Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's now part it; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, tho' she smelt of brown bread and garlick : say, that I faid fo, farewel.

(Exit.

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(13) The Duke, I say to thee again, would eat Mutton on Fridays. ] This is not meant to impeach the Duke of being an ill Catholick, as transgressing the Rules of Abstinence in Diet: But the Joke, alluded to, will be explain'd by looking back to the second Note on the Two Gentlemen of Verona.

Duke.

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