Efcal. Which is the wiser here; Justice or Iniquity? Is this true?

Elb. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked a Hannibal! I refpected with her, before I was marry'd to her? If ever I was refpected with her, or fhe with me, let not your worship think me the poor Duke's officer; prove this, thou wicked a Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee.

Efcal. If he took you a box o' th' ear, you might have your action of flander too.

Elb. Marry, I thank your good worship for it: what is't your wofhip's pleasure I fhall do with this wicked caitiff?

Efcal. Truly, officer, because he hath fome offences in him, that thou wouldft discover if thou couldft, let him continue in his courfes, 'till thou know'ft what they are..

Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it; thou feest, thou wicked varlet now, what's come upon thee. Thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue. Efcal. Where were you born, friend? [To Froth.

Froth. Here in Vienna, Sir.

Efcal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year?

Froth. Yes, an't please you, Sir.

Efcal. So. What trade are you of, Sir? [To the Clown. Clown. A tapfter, a poor widow's tapfter.

Efcal. Your mistress's name?

Clown. Mrs. Over-don.

Efcal. Hath fhe had any more than one husband?
Clown. Nine, Sir: Over-don by the last.

Efcal. Nine? Come hither to me, mafter Froth: master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapfters; they will draw you, mafter 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 taphoufe, but I am drawn in. Efcal. Well; no more of it, master Froth; farewel.

(a) He means to say Animal.

[Exit Froth. SCENE

SCE E NE IV.

Come you hither to me, mafter tapfter; what's your name, mafter tapfter?

Clown. Pompey.

Efcal. What elfe?
Clown. Bum, Sir.

Efcal. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you, fo that, in the beaftlieft fenfe, you are Pompey the great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey; howfofoever you colour it in being a tapfter; are you not? come, tell me true, it fhall be the better for you.

Clown. Truly, Sir, I am a poor fellow that would live. Efcal. How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? what do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?

Clown. If the law will allow it, Sir.

Efcal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey, and it fhall not be allowed in Vienna.

Clown. Does your worship mean to geld and fplay all the youth in the city?

Efcal. No, Pompey.

Clown. Truly, Sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.

Efcal. There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: it is but heading and hanging.

Clown. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten years together, you'll be glad to give out a commiffion for more heads: If this law hold in Vienna ten years, I'll rent the faireft house in it after three pence a bay if you live to fee this come to pafs, fay Pompey told you fo.

Efcal. Thank you, good Pompey; and in requital of your prophecy, hark you, I advife you let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey, I fhall

beat

beat you to your tent, and prove a fhrewd Cæfar to you: in plain dealing, Pompey, I fhall have you whipt: fo for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

Clown. I thank your worship for your good counsel; but I fhall follow it, as the flesh and fortune fhall better determine.

Whip me? no, no; let carman whip his jade;
The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade.

[Exit.

Efcal. Come hither to me, mafter Elbow; come hither, mafter constable; how long have you been in this place of conftable?

Elb. Seven year and a half, Sir.

Efcal. I thought, by your readinefs in the office, you had continued in it fome time: you fay feven years toge ther?

Elb. And a half, Sir.

Efcal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you; they do you wrong to put you fo oft upon't: are there not men in your ward fufficient to ferve it?

Elb. 'Faith, Sir, few of any wit in fuch matters; as they are chofen they are glad to chufe me for them. I do it for fome piece of mony, and go through with all.

Efcal. Look you, bring me in the names of fome fix or feven, the most fufficient of your parish.

Elb. To your worship's houfe, Sir?
Efcal. To my houfe; fare you well.

think you?

Juft. Eleven, Sir.

What's a clock,

[Exit Elbow.

Efcal. I pray you, go home to dinner with me.

Juft. I humbly thank

you.

Efcal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio:

But there's no remedy.

Juft. Lord Angelo is fevere.

Ejcal. It is but needful:

Mercy is not it felf, that oft looks fo;

Pardon

Pardon is ftill the nurfe of fecond woe:

[Exeunt.

VI.

But yet poor Claudio! there's no remedy.
Come, Sir.

SCENE

Enter Provost, and a Servant.

Serv. He's hearing of a Caufe; he will come ftraight: I'll tell him of you.

Prov. Pray you, do; I'll know

His pleasure; may be he'll relent; alas!

He hath but as offended in a dream:

8

All fects, all ages fmack 'o' th' vice; and he

To die for it!

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter, Provoft?
Prov. Is it your will Claudio fhall die to-morrow?
Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadft thou not order?
9 'Why ask again?`

Prov. Left I might be too rash.

Under your good correction, I have seen
When after execution judgment hath
Repented o'er his doom.

I

Ang. Let that be mine;

Do you your office, or give up your place,

And you fhall well be fpar'd.

Prov. I crave your pardon.

What shall be done, Sir, with the groaning Juliet?
She's very near her hour.

Ang. Difpofe of her

To fome more fitting place, and that with speed.
Serv. Here is the fifter of the man condemn'd,
Defires accefs to you.

Ang. Hath he a fifter?

Prov. Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid,

VOL. I.

8 of the vice;

Y

9 Why doft thou ask again?

1 Go to; let that be mine;

And

And to be fhortly of a fifter-hood,
If not already.

Ang. Let her be admitted.

See you the fornicatrefs be remov'd;

Let her have needful, but not lavish means;

There fhall be order for it.

[Exit Servant.

Enter Lucio and Ifabella.

Prov. 'Save your honour!

Ang. Stay yet a while. Y'are welcome; what's your will? Ifab. I am a woful fuitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me.

Ang. What's your fuit?

Ifab. There is a vice that most I do abhor,
And most defire should meet the blow of juftice,
For which I would not plead, but that I muft;
2/For which I muft plead, albeit I am
At war 'twixt will, and will not.

Ang. Well; the matter?

Ifab. I have a brother is condemn'd' 'to-day;` I do befeech you, let it be his fault,

And not my brother.

Prov. Heav'n give thee moving graces!

Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it?

Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done;

Mine were the very cipher of a function

To fine the faults, whofe fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.

Ifab. O juft, but severe law!

I had a brother then ;--- heav'n keep your honour!
Lucio. Give't not o'er fo: to him again, intreat him,
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
You are too cold; if you fhould need a pin,

You could not with a more tame tongue defire it.
To him, I fay.

2 For which I must not plead, but that I am

Ifab.

3 to die;