What news, Friar, of the Duke?

Duke.

I know none: can you tell me of any?

Lucio.

Some say, he is with the Emperor of Russia; other Some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?

Duke.

I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well.

Lucio.

It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the State, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts Transgression to't.

Duke.

He does well in't.

Lucio.

A little more lenity to leachery would do no harm in him; something too crabbed that way, Friar.

Duke.

^{9 note}

Lucio.

Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd; 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 the 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 got 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 ungenerative, 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 cod-piece 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.

Oh, 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 ducket 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, pr'ythee, might be the cause?

Lucio.

No: pardon: 'tis a secret must be lockt 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 darken'd 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 leacherous. 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. Farewel, good Friar; I pry'thee, 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, tho' she smelt of brown bread and garlick: say, that I said so, farewel.

Duke.
No might nor greatness in mortality
Can censure scape: back-wounding calumny
The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong,
Can tie the gall up in the sland'rous tongue?
But who comes here?

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