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dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to't.

DUKE.

He does well in't.

LUCIO.

A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him;

something too crabbed that way, friar.

DUKE.

It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.

LUCIO.

Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is

well allied; but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till

eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not

made by man and woman after this downright way of creation. Is it true, think you? DUKE. How should he be made, then? LUCIO. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him; some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true. And he is a motion generative; that's infallible. DUKE. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. LUCIO. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the Duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. DUKE. I never heard the absent Duke much detected for women; he was not inclin'd that way. LUCIO. O, sir, you are deceiv'd. DUKE. 'Tis not possible. LUCIO. Who- not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish. The Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too; that let me inform you. DUKE. You do him wrong, surely. LUCIO. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the Duke; and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing. DUKE. What, I prithee, might be the cause? LUCIO. No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be lock'd within the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you understand: the greater file of the subject held the Duke to be wise. DUKE. Wise? Why, no question but he was. LUCIO. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. DUKE. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much dark'ned in your malice. LUCIO. Sir, I know him, and I love him. DUKE. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. LUCIO. Come, sir, I know what I know. DUKE. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the Duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it; I am bound to call upon you; and I pray you your name? LUCIO. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke. DUKE. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. LUCIO. I fear you not. DUKE. O, you hope the Duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this again. LUCIO. I'll be hang'd first. Thou art deceiv'd in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no? DUKE. Why should he die, sir? LUCIO. Why? For filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would the Duke we talk of were return'd again. This ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves because they are lecherous. The Duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to

light. Would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemned

for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I prithee pray for me.

The

Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's not

past it yet; and, I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar

though she smelt brown bread and garlic. Say that I said so.

Farewell. Exit

DUKE. No might nor greatness in mortality

Can censure scape; back-wounding calumny

The whitest virtue strikes.