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Measure for Measure
img img Measure for Measure img Chapter 34 2 No.34
34 Chapters
Chapter 1 4.
Chapter 2 1 Scene I. A hall in Angelo's house.
Chapter 3 1.
Chapter 4 1. No.4
Chapter 5 1. No.5
Chapter 6 1. No.6
Chapter 7 2 Scene II. Another room in the same.
Chapter 8 2.
Chapter 9 2. No.9
Chapter 10 2. No.10
Chapter 11 2. No.11
Chapter 12 2. No.12
Chapter 13 2. No.13
Chapter 14 2. No.14
Chapter 15 3 Scene III. A room in a prison.
Chapter 16 3.
Chapter 17 4 Scene IV. A room in Angelo's house.
Chapter 18 4. No.18
Chapter 19 4. No.19
Chapter 20 4. No.20
Chapter 21 4. No.21
Chapter 22 4. No.22
Chapter 23 4. No.23
Chapter 24 4. No.24
Chapter 25 1 Scene I. A room in the prison.
Chapter 26 1
Chapter 27 1 No.27
Chapter 28 1 No.28
Chapter 29 1 No.29
Chapter 30 1 No.30
Chapter 31 1 No.31
Chapter 32 2 Scene II. The street before the prison.
Chapter 33 2
Chapter 34 2 No.34
Chapter 35 2 No.35
Chapter 36 2 No.36
Chapter 37 2 No.37
Chapter 38 2 No.38
Chapter 39 2 No.39
Chapter 40 2 No.40
Chapter 41 1 Scene I. The moated grange at St Luke's.
Chapter 42 1 No.42
Chapter 43 1 No.43
Chapter 44 2 Scene II. A room in the prison.
Chapter 45 2 No.45
Chapter 46 2 No.46
Chapter 47 2 No.47
Chapter 48 3 Scene III. Another room in the same.
Chapter 49 3
Chapter 50 3 No.50
Chapter 51 3 No.51
Chapter 52 3 No.52
Chapter 53 4 Scene IV. A room in Angelo's house. No.53
Chapter 54 4
Chapter 55 5 Scene V. Fields without the town.
Chapter 56 6 Scene VI. Street near the city-gate.
Chapter 57 1 Scene I. The city-gate.
Chapter 58 1 No.58
Chapter 59 1 No.59
Chapter 60 1 No.60
Chapter 61 1 No.61
Chapter 62 1 No.62
Chapter 63 1 No.63
Chapter 64 1 No.64
Chapter 65 1 No.65
Chapter 66 1 No.66
Chapter 67 1 No.67
Chapter 68 1 No.68
Chapter 69 1 No.69
Chapter 70 1 No.70
Chapter 71 1 No.71
Chapter 72 1 No.72
Chapter 73 1 No.73
Chapter 74 1 No.74
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Chapter 34 2 No.34

50 Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, ha?

Pom. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.

Lucio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be 55 so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd: an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey?

Pom. Yes

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