hollow: thy bones are hollow;
impiety has made a feast of thee. 55

_Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE._

_First Gent._ How now! which of your hips has the
most profound sciatica?

_Mrs Ov._ Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and
carried to prison was worth five thousand of you all.

_Sec. Gent._ Who's that, I pray thee? 60

_Mrs Ov._ Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.

_First Gent._ Claudio to prison? 'tis not so.

_Mrs Ov._ Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested;
saw him carried away; and, which is more, within these
three days his head to be chopped off. 65

_Lucio._ But, after all this fooling, I would not have it
so. Art thou sure of this?

_Mrs Ov._ I am too sure of it: and it is for getting
Madam Julietta with child.

_Lucio._ Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet 70
me two hours since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping.

_Sec. Gent._ Besides, you know, it draws something near
to the speech we had to such a purpose.

_First Gent._ But, most of all, agreeing with the proclamation. 75

_Lucio._ Away! let's go learn the truth of it.

[_Exeunt Lucio and Gentlemen._

_Mrs Ov._ Thus, what with the war, what with the
sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am
custom-shrunk. 80

_Enter POMPEY._

How now! what's the news with you?

_Pom._ Yonder man is carried to prison.

_Mrs Ov._ Well; what has he done?

_Pom._ A woman.

_Mrs Ov._ But what's his offence? 85

_Pom._ Groping for trouts in a peculiar river.

_Mrs Ov._ What, is there a maid with child by him?

_Pom._ No, but there's a woman with maid by him.
You have not heard of the proclamation, have you?

_Mrs Ov._ What proclamation, man? 90

_Pom._ All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be
plucked down.

_Mrs Ov._ And what shall become of those in the city?

_Pom._ They shall stand for seed: they had gone down
too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. 95

_Mrs Ov._ But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs
be pulled down?

_Pom._ To the ground, mistress.

_Mrs Ov._ Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth!
What shall become of me? 100

_Pom._ Come; fear not you: good