FROTH. Here in Vienna, sir.

ESCAL. Are you of fourscore pounds a-year?
FROTH. Yes, an 't please you, sir.

ESCAL. So. What trade are you of, sir?

CLO. A tapster; a poor widow's tapster.

-ESCAL. Your mistress's name?

CLO. Mistress Overdone.

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.

[To the Clown.

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 beastliest 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 law would allow it, sir.

ESCAL. But the law will not allow it, Pompey: nor it shall not be allowed in
Vienna.

CLO. Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of 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 requital of your prophecy, hark you, -I advise 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 shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Cæsar to you; in plain deal

Splay. Used in Chapman's Homer and Holland's Pliny.

ing, Pompey, I shall have you whipped: so for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

CLO. I thank your worship for your good counsel; 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 whipp'd out of his trade.

[Exit.

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

ELB. Seven year 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.

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?

SERV. He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight.

[Exeunt.

He hath but as offended in a dream!

All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he
To die for 't—

ANG.

Enter ANGELO.

Now, what's the matter, provost ?

PROV. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow?
ANG. Did not I tell thee, yea? hadst thou not order?

Why dost thou ask again?

PROV.

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

ANG. Stay a little while.-[To ISAB.] You are welcome: What's your will?
ISAB. I am a woeful suitor to your honour,

ANG.

Well; the matter?

ISAB. I have a brother is condemn'd to die:

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 fine 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!

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?

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 remorse
As mine is to him?

ANG.

He's sentenc'd; 't is 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 slipp'd like him; but he, like you,
Would not have been so stern.

ANG.

Pray you, begone.

ISAB. I would to heaven I had your potency,

[Retiring.

[TO ISABELLA.

To fine. So the original. The ordinary reading is to find. To fine is to sentence-to bring to an end.

> Well believe this-be well assured of this. The folio of 1623 omits back, which is inserted in that of 1632.

ANG.

Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother:

Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

It should be thus with him;-he must die to-morrow.

ISAB. To-morrow? O, that's sudden ! Spare him, spare him:
He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens

We kill the fowl of season b: shall we serve heaven

With less respect than we do minister

To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you :
Who is it that hath died for this offence?

There's many have committed it.

LUCIO.

Ay, well said.

ANG. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,

If the first that did the edict infringe
Had answer'd for his deed; now, 't is awake;

Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,

Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv'd,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born)
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But, where they live, to end.

ISAB.

Yet show some pity.

ANG. I show it most of all, when I show justice;

[Aside.

This is explained by Malone,-" You will then appear as tender-hearted and merciful as the first man was in his days of innocence, immediately after his creation." Is it not rather with reference to the fine allusion to the redemption which has gone before? Think on that, and you will then be as merciful as a man regenerate.

The fowl of season-when in season,

We print this line as in the original. The ordinary reading is, if the first man. The necessary retardation of the original adds to the force of the line.

• Where. The original has here.