Page 1092 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3
P. 1092
From too much liberty, my Lucio. Liberty,
As surfeit, is the father of much fast;
So every scope by the immoderate use [125]
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 [130] 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. [135]
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 look’d after?
