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thee; thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou
art to continue.

Escal. Where were you born, friend ? [To Froth.
Froth. Here, in Vienna, sir.
Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year?
Froth. Yes, and't please you,

sir.
Escal. So.-What trade are you of, sir ?

[To the Clown.
Clo. A tapster : a poor widow's tapster.
Escal. Your mistress's name?
Clo. Mistress Over-done.
Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband?
Clo. Nine, sir; Over-done by the last.
Escal. Nine! _Come hither to me, master Froth,
Master Froth I would not have you acquainted
with tapsters ; they will draw you, master 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 taphouse,
but I am drawn in.

Escal. Well ; no'more of it, master Froth: farewell

. (Exit Froth.]--Come you hither to me, master tapster ; what's your name, master tapster? Clo. Pompey. Escal. What else? Clo. Bum, sir. Escal. 'Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; 'so that, in the beastilest 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.

Clo. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow, that would live.

Escal. How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?

Clo. "If the latt would allow it, sir.
Escal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey;

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nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.

Clo. Does your worship mean to geld and spay
all the youth in the city?

Escal. No, Pompey.
Clo. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will
to't then : if your worship will take order for the
drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the
bawds.

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

Clo. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it, after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this come to pass, say Pompey told you so.

Escal. Thank you, good Pompey: and, in re-
quital of your prophecy, hark you, --1 advise you,
let me not find you before me again upon any com-
plaint whatsoever, no, not for dwelling where you
do: if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent,
and prove a shrewd Cæsar to you; in plain deal.
ing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so for this
time Pompey, fare you well.

Clo. I thank your worship for your good coun-
sel; but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune
shall better determine.
Whip me! No, no; let carman whip his jade;
The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade. [EX.

Escal. Come hither to me, master Elbow ; come
hither, master Constable. How long have you
been in this place of constable ?

Elb. Seven years and a half, sir.

Escal. I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time: You say, seven years together?

Elb. And a half, sir.

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Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you! They do

you wrong to put you so oft upon't: Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it?

Elb. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters : as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all.

Escal. Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.

Elb. To your worship's house, sir?
Escal. To my house : Fare you well. (Exit
Elbow.] What's o'clock, think you?

Just. Eleven, sir.
Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me.
Just. I humbly thank you.

Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio; But there's no remedy.

Just. Lord Angelo is severe.
Escal.

It is but needful:
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so:
Pardon is still the nurse of second wo:
But yet,-Poor Claudio !--There's no remedy.
Come, sir,

(Exeunt.

SCENE II.--Another room in the same. Enter

Provost and a Servant. Serv. He's hearing of a cause ; he will come

straight. I'll tell him of you,

Prov. Pray you, do. (Exit Servant.] Pll know His pleasure ; may be, he will relent: Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream! All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he To die for it!

Enter Angelo Ang. Now, what's the matter, provost? Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow? Ang. Did I not tell thee, yea? hadst thou not

order?

Why dost thou ask again?
Prov.

Lest I might be too rash :
Under your good correction, I have seen,
When, after execution, judgment hath
Repented o'er his doom.
Ang

Go to; let that be mine; Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spar'd. Prov.

I crave your honour's pardon.What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet ? She's very near her hour. Ang.

Dispose of her To some more fitter place; and that with speed.

Re-enter Servant. Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd, Desires access to you. Ang

Hath he a sister? Prov. Ay, my good lord ; a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already.

Ang. Well, let her be admitted. (Ex. Serv. See the fornicatress be remov'd; Let her have needful, but not lavish, means ; There shall be order for it.

Enter Lucio and Isabella.
Prov. Save your honour! [Offering to retire.
Ang. Stay a little while.—[7o Isab.) You are

welcome: What's your will ?
Isab. I am a woful suitor to your honour,
Please but your honour hear me.
Ang.

Well; what's your suit ?
Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.
Ang.

Well; the matter? Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die :

you

I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.

Prov. Heaven 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 find the faults, whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor." Isab.

O just, but severe law ! I had a brother then.--Heaven keep your honour!

(Retiring Lucio. (To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him

again, entreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; You are too cold : if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say. Isab. Must he needs die? Ang.

Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.

Ang. I will not do't.
Isab.

But can you, if you would?
Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.
Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no

wrong, If so your heart were touch'd with that remorsel As mine is to him?

Ang. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late.
Lucio. You are too cold.

Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,
May call it back again : Well believe this,
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace,
As
mercy

does. If he had been as you, And you as he, you would have slipt like him ;

[To Isabella.

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