Measure for Measure

by William Shakespeare

POMPEY.
I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman’s face. Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; ’tis for a good purpose.—Doth your honour mark his face?

ESCALUS.
Ay, sir, very well.

POMPEY.
Nay, I beseech you, mark it well.

ESCALUS.
Well, I do so.

POMPEY.
Doth your honour see any harm in his face?

ESCALUS.
Why, no.

POMPEY.
I’ll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then, if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the constable’s wife any harm? I would know that of your honour.

ESCALUS.
He’s in the right. Constable. What say you to it?

ELBOW.
First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman.

POMPEY.
By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all.