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ISAB. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her?
ISAB. What a merit were it in Death to take this poor
maid from the world! What corruption in this Life that it will let this man live!-But how out of this can she avail ?1
DUKE. It is a rupture that you may easily heal; and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.
ISAB. Shew me how, good Father.
DUKE. This forenam'd maid hath yet in her the continu-
ISAB. The image of it gives me content already; and
3 weighed, assayed.
presently to St. Luke's: there, at the Moated Grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. ISAB. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good Father. [exeunt.
SCENE II. The Street before the Prison.
Enter DUKE, as a Friar; to him ELBOW, Clown, and Officers.
ELB. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.1 DUKE. O, Heavens! what stuff is here?
CLO. "Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the
DUKE. And you, good Brother Father.
ELB. Marry, Sir, he hath offended the Law; and, Sir, we
DUKE. Fie, sirrah, fie! a bawd, a wicked bawd!
That is thy means to live. Do thou but think
I would prove
DUKE. Nay, if the Devil have given thee proofs for sin,
Thou wilt prove his.
Take him to prison, Officer:
8 for ceintures de chasteté.
1 raisin wine.
Correction and instruction must both work,
ELB. He must before the Deputy, Sir; he has given him
DUKE. That we were all, as some would seem to be,
ELB. His neck will come to your waist-a cord, Sir!
LUCIO. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion'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 say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is 't not drown'd i' the last rain, ha? What say'st thou, Trot?1 Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way?? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The trick of it?
DUKE. Still thus, and thus! still worse!
LUCIO. How doth my dear morsel, thy Mistress? Procures she still, ha?
CLO. Troth, Sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.3
LUCIO. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be
LUCIO. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell. Go, say
2 the mode.
3 under treatment for the pox.
Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey: you will keep the house?
CLO. I hope, Sir, your good Worship will be my bail. LUCIO. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey: it is not the wear.1 I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.-Bless you, Friar! DUKE. And you.
LUCIO. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha?
ELB. Come your ways, Sir; come.
CLO. You will not bail me then, Sir?
LUCIO. Then, Pompey? Nor now. What news abroad,
ELB. Come your ways, Sir; come.
LUCIO. Go-to kennel, Pompey, go!
[Exeunt ELBOW, Clown, and Officers.
What news, Friar, of the Duke?
LUCIO. Some say, he is with the Emperor of Russia
DUKE. I know not where. But wheresoever, I wish him well.
LUCIO. It was a mad fantastical trick of him, to steal from the State, and usurp 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 't.
LUCIO. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him something too crabb'd that way, Friar.
DUKE. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. LUCIO. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred ; it is well allied. But it is impossible 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 should he be made, then?
LUCIO. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him; some that
he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that, when he makes water, his urine is con
geal'd ice: that I know to be true. And he is a motion ACT III generative:1 that's infallible. Sc. II
DUKE. You are pleasant, Sir, and speak apace.
LUCIO. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the
LUCIO. O, Sir! you are deceiv'd.
DUKE. "Tis not possible.
LUCIO. Who? not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was, to put a ducat in her clack-dish. 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 inward3 of his. A shy fellow was the Duke; and, I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing.
DUKE. What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause?
DUKE. Love talks with better knowledge, and Knowledge with dear love.
LUCIO. Come, Sir, I know what I know.
1 masculine puppet. 2 alms-bason. 3 intimate. 4 majority. 5 steered.