Measure for Measure

by William Shakespeare

ESCALUS.
Are you of fourscore pounds a year?

FROTH.
Yes, an’t please you, sir.

ESCALUS.
So. [To Pompey.] What trade are you of, sir?

POMPEY.
A tapster, a poor widow’s tapster.

ESCALUS.
Your mistress’ name?

POMPEY.
Mistress Overdone.

ESCALUS.
Hath she had any more than one husband?

POMPEY.
Nine, sir; Overdone by the last.

ESCALUS.
Nine?—Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters; they will draw you, Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you.

FROTH.
I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse but I am drawn in.