Measure for Measure

Shakespeare: the funny bits

Duke. No, holy father; throw away that thought;
Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
Can pierce a complete bosom.

[The Duke, disguised as a Friar, hangs around watching everything Go On]

Mariana. Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face
Until my husband bid me.
Duke. What, are you married?
Mari. No, my lord.
Duke. Are you a maid?
Mari. No, my lord.
Duke. A widow, then?
Mari. Neither, my lord.
Duke. Why, then, you are nothing then; neither maid, widow, nor wife.
Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.