[Exit.]
POMPEY.
Pray, sir, by your good favour—for surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look—do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery?
ABHORSON.
Ay, sir, a mystery.
POMPEY.
Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery. But what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine.
ABHORSON.
Sir, it is a mystery.
POMPEY.
Proof.
ABHORSON.
Every true man’s apparel fits your thief. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough. So every true man’s apparel fits your thief.
Enter Provost.
PROVOST.
Are you agreed?
POMPEY.
Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd. He doth oftener ask forgiveness.