Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What’s your name, Master tapster?
POMPEY.
Pompey.
ESCALUS.
What else?
POMPEY.
Bum, sir.
ESCALUS.
Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you not? Come, tell me true, it shall be the better for you.
POMPEY.
Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live.
ESCALUS.
How would you live, Pompey? By being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? Is it a lawful trade?
POMPEY.
If the law would allow it, sir.
ESCALUS.
But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.
POMPEY.
Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city?