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Enter Lucio. Elb. His neck will come to your waist, s a cord, Sir. Clown. I spy comfort ; I cry, bail : here's a gentle
man, and a friend of mine. Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? what, at the wheels of Cæfur? 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 sayfc thou to this tune, matrer and method is's not drown'd i'ch' last rain ?? ha? what say’ít thou, trot? is the world as it was, man? which is the way? * is it fad and few words? or how? the trick of ir?
Duke. Still thus and thus; still worse!
5 His neck will come to your ingenious, but I know not whe. waii, cord, Sir.) Thai js, ther the sense may not be restored his neck will be tied like your with less chance. Let us con. waist with a rope. The dekss sider it. Lucio, a psa:ing fop, of the Francis an order, perhaps meers his old friend going to pri. of others, wear a hempen cord fun, and pours out upon him his for a girdle. Thus Buchanan, impertinent interrogatories, to
which, when the poor fellow Facgcmant suis
makes no answer, he adds. What Variata terga funibus.
reply? ba? what lay theu ta 6 Pigmal on's images, nevely this ? tune, matter, and method,-made woman.] i. e.
is't not? drown'd i' th' laft rain? cured from a falivation, WARB. ha? zehat jay'st thou, trot ? &c.]
i w what say? A thou to ibis it is a commun phrase used in low yupe, matter and method ? is't nct raillery of a man crest-fallen and drownd in the laf rain?] Tris dejecled, that he looks like a Atrange nonfente fhould be thus droava'd puppy. Lucio, therefore, corrected, It's not DOWN Jib' asks him whether he was drown't la REIGN, i. e. these are seve- in the last rain, and therefore riies unknown to the old Duke's cannot speak. lime. And this is to the pur. *-which is the way?] What pore.
WARBURTON. is the mode now? Ds. Warburton's emendation is
Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress ? procures the ill ? ha?
Clown. Troth, Sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the cub. 8
Lucio. Why, 'tis good ; 'it is the right of it; it must be fo. Ever your fresh whore, and your powder'd bawd; an unshunn'd consequence, it must be lo. . Art going to prison, Pompey?
Clwn. Yes, faith, Sir.
Lucie. Why, 'is not amiss, Pompey, farewel : go, fay, I sent thee chither. For debt, Pompey? or how ?!
Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd.
Lucio. Well, then imprison him ; if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'cis 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
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, trusty Pompey. Bless you, Friar.
Duke. And you.
Lucio. Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, Friar? what news!
in the tub.) The method hide the ignominy of thy case, of cure for venereal complaints fay, I'fent chec to prison for is grolly called the powdering- debt, or whatever other pretub.
tence thou fancieft better. The 9 -- go, foy, I fent thee thither. other humourously replies, For For debt, Pompey! or bow?] being a bawd, for being a bawd, It should be pointed thus, Go, i. e. the true cause is the moit say, I fent thee thither for debt. honourable. This is in characPompey; or how i.e. to ter
Elb. Come your ways, Sir, come.
[Exeunt Elbow, Clown and Officers.
What news, Friar, of the Duke?
Lucio. Some say, he is with the emperor of Rufia; other Some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?
Duke. I know not where ; but wheresoever, I wish him well.
Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to fteal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born 10. Lord Angel dukes it well in his absence; he puts Transgression to't.
Dure. He does well in't.
Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him ; something too crabbed that way, Friar.
Duke. It is too general a vice,' and severity must cure it,
Lucio. Yes, in good footh, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd; but it is imposible to extirp it quite, Frier, '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 should he be made then?
Lucio. Some report a lea-maid spawn’d him. Some, that he was got between two fiock-fishes. But it is
It is too general a vice.] The the answer, therefore, it appears, occasion of the observation was that Shakespeare wrote, Lucio's saying, that it ought to be created with a little more le
It is too GENTLE a vice. nity; and his uníu er to it, which fignifying both indulgent The vice is of great kindred. No. and well bred, Lucio humouroully thing can be more absurd than cakes it in the laiter sense. all this. From the occasion, and
certain, that when he makes water, his urine is congeald 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 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 thousan!. He had some feeling of the sport, he knew the service, and that instructed 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.
Lucio. Who, not the Duke? yes, your beggar of fifty--ind his use was, to put a ducket in her * clackdish. The Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too, that let me inform you.
Duke. You do him wrong, surely.
Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the Duke; and, I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing
Duke. What pr’ytheę might be the cause?
Lucio. No–pardon—'tis a secret must be lockt within the teeth and the lips. But this I can let you understand.—The greater file of the subject: held the Duke to be wile.
Duke. Wise? why, no question, but he was.
2 In the former editions. - Motion ungenerative, because Lula and he is a Motion generative; cio again in this very Scene says; that's infallible.] This may be — this ungenitured Agent will Senie ;
and Lucio, perhaps, may unpeople the Province with Con. mean, that sho’Angelico liave the tinency.
THEO BALD. Organs of Generation, yet that *— clack-dish.] This word I he makes no more use of them do not understand. than if he were an inanimate 3 — the greater file of the fubpuppet. But I rather think, our ject.] The larger litt, the greater Author wrote; - and he is a number.
Lucio. A very fuperficial, ignorant, unweighing fel. low.
Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking: the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings forth, and he fall appear to the envious, a scholar, a statesman, and a foldier. There. fore, 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.
Dæke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love.
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 answer before him. If it be honest 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 opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm ; you'll forswear this again.
Lucio. I'll be hang'd first : thou art deceiv'd in me, Friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell, if Clau . dio die to morrow, or no ?
Duke. Why should he die, Sir?
Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun:dish. I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again; this ungeni ur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency. Sparrows mult not build in his houseeaves, because they are lecherous.
The Duke yet