DOGBERRY. Five shillings to one on’t, with any man that knows the statutes, he may stay him: marry, not without the Prince be willing; for, indeed, the watch ought to offend no man, and it is an offence to stay a man against his will. VERGES. By’r lady, I think it be so. DOGBERRY. Ha, ah, ha! Well, masters, good night: an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me: keep your fellows’ counsels and your own, and good night. Come, neighbour. SECOND WATCH. Well, masters, we hear our charge: let us go sit here upon the church bench till two, and then all to bed. DOGBERRY. One word more, honest neighbours. I pray you, watch about Signior Leonato’s door; for the wedding being there tomorrow, there is a great coil tonight. Adieu; be vigitant, I beseech you. [Exeunt Dogberry and Verges.] Enter Borachio and Conrade. BORACHIO. What, Conrade! WATCH. [Aside] Peace! stir not. BORACHIO. Conrade, I say! CONRADE. Here, man. I am at thy elbow. BORACHIO. Mass, and my elbow itched; I thought there would a scab follow. CONRADE. I will owe thee an answer for that; and now forward with thy tale. BORACHIO. Stand thee close then under this penthouse, for it drizzles rain, and I will, like a true drunkard, utter all to thee. WATCH. [Aside] Some treason, masters; yet stand close. BORACHIO. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John a thousand ducats. CONRADE. Is it possible that any villainy should be so dear? BORACHIO. Thou shouldst rather ask if it were possible any villainy should be so rich; for when rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will. CONRADE. I wonder at it. BORACHIO. That shows thou art unconfirmed. Thou knowest that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. CONRADE. Yes, it is apparel. BORACHIO. I mean, the fashion. CONRADE. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. BORACHIO. Tush! I may as well say the fool’s the fool. But seest thou not what a deformed thief this fashion is? WATCH. [Aside] I know that Deformed; a’ has been a vile thief this seven years; a’ goes up and down like a gentleman: I remember his name. BORACHIO. Didst thou not hear somebody? CONRADE. No: ’twas the vane on the house. BORACHIO. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turns about all the hot bloods between fourteen and five-and-thirty? sometime fashioning them like Pharaoh’s soldiers in the reechy painting; sometime like god Bel’s priests in the old church window; sometime like the shaven Hercules in the smirched worm-eaten tapestry, where his codpiece seems as massy as his club? CONRADE. All this I see, and I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man. But art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the fashion?