BAWD. Well; what has he done? CLOWN. A woman. BAWD. But what's his offence? CLOWN. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. BAWD. What proclamation, man? CLOWN. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be pluck'd down. BAWD. And what shall become of those in the city? CLOWN. They shall stand for seed; they had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. BAWD. But shall all our houses of refort in the fuburbs be pull'd down? CLOWN. To the ground, mistress. BAWD. Why here's a change, indeed, in the common wealth. What shall become of me? CLOWN. Come, fear not you? good counsellors lack no clients; though you change your place, you need not change your trade; I'll be your tapster still. Courage, there will be pity taken on you; you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will be confidered. BAWD. What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? let's withdraw. CLOWN. Here comes signior Claudio, led by the Provost to prison; and there's madam Juliet. (Exit Bawd and Clown. SCENE VI. Enter Provost, Claudio, Juliet, and officers. Lucio and two gentlemen. CLAUD. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to th' world? Bear me to prison, where I am committed. Make us pay down, for our offence, by weight. The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will; On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just. Lucio. Why, how now, Claudio? whence comes this re straint? CLAUD. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty; So ev'ry scope by the immoderate use LUCIO. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would fend for certain of my creditors; and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom, as the morality of imprisonment: what's thy offence, Claudio? CLAUD. What, but to speak of, would offend again. CLAUD. No. LUCIO. Letchery? CLAUD. Call it fo. PROV. Away, Sir, you must go. CLAUD. One word, good friend: -Lucio, a word with you. LUCIO. A hundred; if they'll do you any good. Is letchery fo look'd after ? CLAUD. Thus stands it with me; upon a true contract I got poffeffion of Julietta's bed, (You know the lady) she is fast my wife; Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order. This we came not to, LUCIO. With child, perhaps? And the new deputy now for the duke, Or whether that the body public be Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by th' wall Lucio. I warrant, it is. And thy head stands so tickle on Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends And well she can perfuade. Lucio. I pray, she may; as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition; as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be forry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her. CLAUD. I thank you, good friend Lucio. LUCIO. Within two hours, SCENE VII. A monastery. Enter Duke, and friar Thomas. [Exeunt. DUKE. No, holy father-Throw away that thought- FRI. May your grace speak of it? DUKE. My holy Sir, none better knows than you, And held in idle price to haunt assemblies, A man of stricture and firm abstinence My absolute pow'r and place here in Vienna; DUKE. We have strict statutes and most biting laws, Becomes more mock'd, than fear'd; so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead; FRI. It rested in your grace. T' unloose this ty'd up justice, when you pleas'd: Than in lord Angelo. DUKE. I do fear, too dreadful. Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them, For what I bid them do. For we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their permiffive pass, And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father, Who may in th' ambush of my name strike home, |