found 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 caufeft to be done, That is thy means to live. Doft thou but think, Clown. Indeed, it doth stink in some sort, Sir; but yet, Sir, I would prove Duke. Nay, if the devil have giv'n thee proofs for fin, Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer; Correction and inftruction 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 whoremafter; 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 fome would feem to be, 5 Free from all faults, as faults, from feeming, free! Elb. His neck will come to your waste, a cord, Sir. Clown. I fpy comfort: I cry, bail; here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine. 5 as faults, from feeming, free!] i.e. as faults are destitute of all comeliness or feeming. The first of these lines refers to the Deputy's fanctified hypocrify; the fecond, to the Clown's beaftly occupation. But the latter part is thus ill expreffed for the fake of the rhime. [(a) array my felf. Mr. Bishop. Vulg away my felf.] 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 fay'ft thou to this tune, matter and method? 7 It's not down i'th' laft reign. Ha? what say'st 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? Lucio. How doth my dear morfel, thy mistress? procures fhe ftill? ha? Clown. Troth, Sir, fhe hath eaten up all her beef, and fhe is her felf 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 howElb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. Lucio. Well, then imprison him; if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his Right. Bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd born. Fare-` wel, good Pompey: commend me to the prison, 6 Pigmalion's images, newly made woman,] i. e. come out cured from a falivation. 7 IS'T not DROWN'D i'th' laft RAIN?] This ftrange nonsense fhould be thus corrected, Ir's not DOWN i'th' laft REIGN, i. e. these are severities unknown to the old Duke's time. And this is to the purpose. 8 Go, fay, I fent thee thither. For debt Pompey? or how?] It fhould 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 prifon for debt, or whatever other pretence thou fanciest better. The other humourous replies, For being a hawd. for being a bawd, i. e. the true caufe is the most honourable. This is in character. Pompey 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: you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more: adieu, trufty Pompey. Blefs you, Friar. if Duke. And you. Lucio. Does Bridget paint ftill, Pompey? ha? Clown. You will not bail me then, Sir? Lucio. Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, Friar? what news? Elb. Come your ways, Sir, come. Lucio. Go to kennel, Pompey, go. [Exeunt Elbow, Clown and Officers. What news, Friar, of the Duke? VI. 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 State, and ufurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his abfence; he puts Tranfgreffion to't. Duke. He does well in't. Lucio. A little more lenity to leachery would do no harm in him; fomething too crabbed that way, Friar. Duke. It is too gentle a vice, and severity must cure it. Lucio. 9 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 le 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 say, this Angelo was not made by man and woman after the downright way of creation; is it true, think you? Duke. How fhould he be made then? Lucio. Some report, a fea-maid spawn'd him. Some, that he was got between two stock-fifhes. But it is 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. Duke. You are pleasant, 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 bastards, he would have paid for the nurfing a thousand. He had fome feeling of the fport, he knew the service, and that inftructed him to mercy. Duke. I never heard the abfent Duke much detected for women; he was not inclin'd that Lucio. Oh, Sir, you are deceiv'd. way. 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 caufe of his withdrawing. nity; and his answer to it is, The vice is of great kindred. Nothing can be more abfurd than all this. From the occafion, and the answer, therefore, it appears, that Shakespear wrote, It is too GENTLE a vice, which fignifying both indulgent and well bred, Lucio humourously takes it in the latter fenfe. Duke. Duke. What, pr'ythee, might be the cause? Lucio. No: pardon: 'tis a fecret muft be lockt within the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you understand, the greater file of the fubject held the Duke to be wife. Duke. Wife? why, no question, but he was. Lucio. A very fuperficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. 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 statesman, and a foldier. 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. 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 shall 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 forswear 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. |