BAWD. Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. Enter Pompey. How now? What’s the news with you? POMPEY. Yonder man is carried to prison. BAWD. Well, what has he done? POMPEY. A woman. BAWD. But what’s his offence? POMPEY. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. BAWD. What? Is there a maid with child by him? POMPEY. No, but there’s a woman with maid by him. You have not heard of the proclamation, have you? BAWD. What proclamation, man? POMPEY. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down. BAWD. And what shall become of those in the city? POMPEY. 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 resort in the suburbs be pulled down? POMPEY. To the ground, mistress. BAWD. Why, here’s a change indeed in the commonwealth! What shall become of me? POMPEY. 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 considered. Enter Provost, Claudio, Juliet and Officers. BAWD. What’s to do here, Thomas Tapster? Let’s withdraw. POMPEY. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Provost to prison. And there’s Madam Juliet. [_Exeunt Bawd and Pompey._] CLAUDIO. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world? Bear me to prison, where I am committed. PROVOST. I do it not in evil disposition, But from Lord Angelo by special charge. CLAUDIO. Thus can the demi-god Authority 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. Enter Lucio and two Gentlemen. LUCIO. Why, how now, Claudio? Whence comes this restraint? CLAUDIO. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty. As surfeit is the father of much fast, So every scope by the immoderate use Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, A thirsty evil; and when we drink, we die. LUCIO. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send 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? CLAUDIO. What but to speak of would offend again. LUCIO. What, is’t murder? CLAUDIO. No. LUCIO. Lechery? CLAUDIO. Call it so. PROVOST. Away, sir; you must go. CLAUDIO. One word, good friend.—Lucio, a word with you. LUCIO. A hundred, if they’ll do you any good. Is lechery so looked after?