ut down, and the worser allowed by
order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and furred
with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that craft,
being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.

_Elb._ Come your way, sir. 'Bless you, good father friar. 10

_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 strange picklock, which we have sent to the Deputy. 15

_Duke._ Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou causest to be done,
That is thy means to live. Do thou but think
What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back
From such a filthy vice: say to thyself, 20
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.
Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.

_Pom._ Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, 25
sir, I would prove--

_Duke._ Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,
Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer:
Correction and instruction must both work
Ere this rude beast will profit. 30

_Elb._ He must before the Deputy, sir; he has given
him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if
he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as
good go a mile on his errand.

_Duke._ That we were all, as some would seem to be, 35
From our faults, as faults from seeming, free!

_Elb._ His neck will come to your waist,--a cord, sir.

_Pom._ I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman
and a friend of mine.

_Enter LUCIO._

_Lucio._ How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels 40
of Caesar? 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
clutched? What reply, ha? What sayest thou to this tune,
matter and method? Is't not drowned i' the last rain, ha? 45
What sayest thou, Trot? 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 50
she still, ha?

_Pom._ Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and
she is herself in the tub.

_Lucio._ W