+Lod.+ I have nothing to do with ye; I take no notice of ye; I have played my part off to th' life, and your grace promised to perform yours. +Ver.+ And publicly we will still raise their fame: Who e'er knew private sin 'scape public shame? You, sir, that do appear a gentleman, Yet are within slave to dishonest passions, You shall through Verona ride upon an ass With your face towards his back-part, and in Your hand his tail 'stead of a bridle. +Clown.+ Snails! upon an ass? an't 'ad been upon a horse, it had been worthy, gramercy. +Ver.+ Peace, sirrah: After that, you shall be branded in the forehead, And after banish'd. Away with him! +Fran.+ Lust is still Like a midnight meal: after our violent drinkings, 'Tis swallow'd greedily; but, the course being kept, We are sicker when we wake than ere we slept. [_Exit._ +Clown.+ He must be branded! if the whoremaster be burnt, what shall become of the procurer? +Ver.+ You, madam, in that you have cosen'd sanctity, To promise her the vows you never paid, You shall unto the monastery of matrons, And spend your days reclusive: for we conceive it Her greatest plague, who her days in lust hath pass'd And soil'd, against[162] her will to be kept chaste. +Dor.+ Your doom is just: no sentence can be given Too hard for her plays fast and loose[163] with Heaven. +Lod.+ I will buss thee, and bid fair weather after thee. But for you, sirrah---- +Clown.+ Nay, sir, 'tis but _crede quod habes, et habes_, at most; believe I have a halter, and I have one. +Ver.+ You, sirrah, we are possess'd, were their pander. +Clown.+ I brought but flesh to flesh, sir, and your grace does as much when you bring your meat to your mouth. +Ver.+ You, sirrah, at a cart's tail shall be whipped through the city. +Clown.+ There's my dream out already! but, since there is no remedy but that whipping-cheer must close up my stomach, I would request a note from your grace to the carman, to entreat him to drive apace; I shall never endure it else. +Ver.+ I hope, Count Lodowick, we have satisfied ye. +Lod.+ To th' full; and I think the cuckold catch'd the cuckold-makers. +Ver.+ 'Twas a neat penance; but, O the art of woman in the performance! +Lod.+ Pshaw, sir, 'tis nothing: had she been in her gran'am's place-- Had not the devil first begun the sin, And cheated her, she would have cheated him. +Ver.+ Let all to rest: and, noble sir, i' th' morning With a small private train we are for Milan. Vice for a time may shine, and virtue sigh; But truth, like heaven's sun, plainly doth reveal, And scourge or crown, what darkness did conceal. FOOTNOTES: [149] This expression occurs in "Pericles, Prince of Tyre," act ii. sc, 1--