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Pompey. Mistress Overdone.
Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband? 211
Pompey. Nine, sir; Overdone 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 iu 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?
Pompey. Pompey. Escal. What else? Pompey. 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.
Pompey. 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?
Pompey. If the law would allow it sir.
Escal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey ; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. Pompey. Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city?
Escal. No, Pompey.
Pompey. 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.
Pomper. 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 dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt. So, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.
Pompey. I thank your worship for your good counsel; Aside; 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.
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 the readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time. You say, seven years together?
Enter LUCIO and ISABELLA.
Prov. God save your honour! Ang. Stay a little while. To ISABELLA. You're welcome what's your will? Isub. I am a woeful 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, 29 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: I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother.
Prov. Aside. 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.
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown ;
Isab. Must he needs die ?
Maiden, no remedy. Isub. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.
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?
He's sentenc'd: 'tis too late.
May call it back again. Well, believe this,
If he had been as you, and you as he,
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: 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? 90
Lucio. To ISABELLA.
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
Isab. So you must be the first that gives this sentence,
And he that suffers. O! it is excellent
Lucio. To ISABELLA. That's well said. 111
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder.
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
You would have slipp'd like him; but he, like Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
Lucio. To ISABELLA. O! to him, to him, wench. He will relent: He's coming; I perceive 't.
Pray heaven she win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them, But in the less foul profanation.
Lucio. To ISABELLA. Thou 'rt in the right, girl more o' that.
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,
With saints dost bait thy hook. Most dangerous
SCENE III.--A Room in a Prison.
Enter DUKE, disguised as a friar, and Provost.
Duke. Bound by my charity and my bless'd
I come to visit the afflicted spirits
Prov. I would do more than that, if more were
Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine,
Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O! injurious love, That I desire to hear her speak again, That respites me a life, whose very comfort And feast upon her eyes? What is 't I dream on? Is still a dying horror. O cunning enemy! that, to catch a saint,
'Tis pity of him. Excunt.
SCENE IV.-A Room in ANGELO'S House.
Ang. When I would pray and think, I think
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words,
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Stand more for number than for accompt.
How now, fair maid?
I am come to know your pleasure. Ang. That you might know it, would much better please me
Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot
Heaven keep your honour!
Isub. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve,
Ang. Ha! fie, these filthy vices! It were as
To pardon him that hath from nature stolen
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy
Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth
Which had you rather, that the most just law
Ang. Say you so then I shall pose you quickly.
Please you to do 't,
Ang. Pleas'd you to do 't at peril of your soul,
Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
Nay, but hear me. Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or seem so craftily; and that's not good.
Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better.
Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most
When it doth tax itself; as these black masks so
Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears
Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,—
Isab. As much for my poor brother as myself:
Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a
And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
Isab. O pardon me, my lord, it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
Else let my brother die, That, had he twenty heads to tender down
If not a feodary, but only he
Ang. Nay, women are frail too.
Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them-
Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
Isb. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, 140 Let me entreat you speak the former language. Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.
Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell me
That he shall die for 't.
Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.
Isab. To whom should I complain? Did I tell
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths!
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for 't:
Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
SCENE I-A Room in the Prison.
Enter DUKE, as a friar, CLAUDIO, and Provost.
Claud. The miserable have no other medicine
I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. Duke. Be absolute for death; either death or life
Reason thus with
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Shall thereby be the sweeter.
What man thou art.
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains 20
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor; 160 For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,