will I frame, and make fit for his attempt: if you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?

Ifab. The image of it gives me content already, and, I trust, it will grow to a most profperous perfection.

Duke. It lies much in your holding up; hafte you fpeedily to Angelo; if for this night he intreat you to his bed, give him promife of fatisfaction. I will prefently to St. Luke's; there at the moated Grange refides this dejected Mariana; at that place call upon me, and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. Ifab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well, good father. [Exeunt feverally.

Re-enter Duke as a Friar, Elbow, Clown, and Officers.

Elb. N

WAY, if there be no remedy for it, but that

you will needs buy and fell men and women like beafts, we fhall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.

*

Duke. Oh, heav'ns! what stuff is here?

Clown. 'Twas never merry world fince of two ufurics the merriest was put down, † and the worfer allow'd by order of law. *** a furr'd gown to keep

baftard.] A Kind of sweet Wine then much in Vogue. From the Italian, Baftardo.

+ and the worfer allou'd by order of law. A furr'd gown, &c.] Here a Satire on Ufury turns abruptly to a Satire on the Person of the Ufurer, without any Kind of Preparation. We may be assured then, that a Line or two, at least, have been loft. The Subject of which we may easily discover, a Comparison between the two Ufurers; as, before, between the two Ufuries. So that for the Future the Paffage should be read with Asterisks thus--- by order of law. *** a furr'd gown, &c.

him warm, and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too, to fignify, that craft, being richer than innocency, ftands for the facing.

Elb. Come your way, Sir: bless you, good father Friar.

Duke. And you, good brother father; what offence hath this man made you, Sir?

Elb. Marry, Sir, he hath offended the law; and, Sir, we take him to be a Thief too, Sir; for we have found upon him, Sir, a ftrange 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,
What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back,
From fuch a filthy vice? fay to thyself,
From their abominable and beaftly touches
I drink, I eat, array myfelf, and live.
Canft thou believe thy living is a life,
So flinkingly depending! go mend, mend.

Clown. Indeed, it doth stink in fome fort, 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 muft both work,

Ere this rude beaft will profit.

Elb. He muft 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 seem to be, Free from all faults, as faults, from feeming, free!

Elb.

IS neck will come to your wafte, a cord, Sir.

H Clown. I fpy comfort: I cry, bail: here's

a gentleman, and a friend of mine.

Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? what, at the wheels of Cæfar? 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'st thou to this tune, matter and method? * It's not down i'th' laft reign. Ha? what fay'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 miftrefs? procures fhe ftill? ha?

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 so. 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. Farewel, good Pompey: commend me to the prison,

Is'r not Drown'd i'th' laft Rain?] This ftrange Nonsense fhould be thus corrected, It's not down i'th' laft Reign, i. e. these And this is to are Severities unknown to the old Duke's Time. the Purpose.

Pompeys

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, truity 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?

Elb. Come your ways, Sir, come.

Lucio. Go to kennel, Pompey, go,

[Exeunt Elbow, Clown and Officers,

SCENE

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 Tranfgreflion 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.

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 Anfwer to it is, The Vice is of great Kindred. From the Occafion, and the Anfwer, therefore, it appears, that Shakespear wrote,----- It is too gentle a vice,-- which fignifying both indulgent and well bred, Lucio humouroufly takes it in the latter Senfe.

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 fhould he be made then?

Lucio. Some report, a fea-maid fpawn'd him. Some, that he was got between two flock-fishes. 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 baftards, he would have paid for the nurfing a thousand. He had fome feeling of the sport, 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 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 understand, the greater file of the subject held the Duke to be wife.

Duke.