Bawd. Thus, what with the war; what with the sweat,
what with the gallowes, and what with pouerty, I am
Custom-shrunke. How now? what's the newes with
you.
Enter Clowne.
Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison
Baw. Well: what has he done?
Clo. A Woman
Baw. But what's his offence?
Clo. Groping for Trowts, in a peculiar Riuer
Baw. What? is there a maid with child by him?
Clo. No: but there's a woman with maid by him:
you haue not heard of the proclamation, haue you?
Baw. What proclamation, man?
Clow. All howses in the Suburbs of Vienna must bee
pluck'd downe
Bawd. And what shall become of those in the Citie?
Clow. They shall stand for seed: they had gon down
to, but that a wise Burger put in for them
Bawd. But shall all our houses of resort in the Suburbs
be puld downe?
Clow. To the ground, Mistris
Bawd. Why heere's a change indeed in the Commonwealth:
what shall become of me?
Clow. Come: feare not you; good Counsellors lacke
no Clients: though you change your place, you neede
not change your Trade: Ile bee your Tapster still; courage,
there will bee pitty taken on you; you that haue
worne your eyes almost out in the seruice, you will bee
considered
Bawd. What's to doe heere, Thomas Tapster? let's
withdraw?
Clo. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Prouost
to prison: and there's Madam Iuliet.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Prouost, Claudio, Iuliet, Officers, Lucio, & 2.Gent.
Cla. Fellow, why do'st thou show me thus to th' world?
Beare me to prison, where I am committed
Pro. I do it not in euill disposition,
But from Lord Angelo by speciall charge
Clau. Thus can the demy-god (Authority)
Make vs pay downe, for our offence, by waight
The words of heauen; on whom it will, it will,
On whom it will not (soe) yet still 'tis iust
Luc. Why how now Claudio? whence comes this restraint
Cla. From too much liberty, (my Lucio) Liberty
As surfet is the father of much fast,
So euery Scope by the immoderate vse
Turnes to restraint: Our Natures doe pursue
Like Rats that rauyn downe their proper Bane,
A thirsty euill, and when we drinke, we die
Luc. If I could speake so wisely vnder an arrest, I
would send for certaine of my Creditors: and yet, to say
the truth, I had as lief haue the foppery of freedome, as
the mortality of imprisonment: what's thy offence,
Claudio?
Cla. What (but to speake of) would offend againe
Luc. What, is't murder?
Cla. No
Luc. Lecherie?
Cla. Call it so
Pro. Away, Sir, you must goe
Cla. One word, good friend:
Lucio, a word with you
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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