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. 220 Escal. Well: no more of it, Master Froth: farewell. Erit 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. 241 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. 250 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. Exit. 270 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? 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. 40 O just but severe law! I had a brother then. Heaven keep your honour! Lucio. To ISABELLA. Give 't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; Isab. Must he needs die? Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, 5) And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. 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: 90 Who is it that hath died for this offence? Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied: Your brother dies to-morrow: be content. 100 Isab. So you must be the first that gives this sentence, If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse And he that suffers. O! it is excellent Ang. 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, 60 To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. Lucio. To ISABELLA. That's well said. 111 Isab. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven! Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt You would have slipp'd like him; but he, like Drest in a little brief authority, you, Would not have been so stern. 120 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. 130 Lucio. To ISABELLA. Thou 'rt in the right, girl more o' that. Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. Lucio. To ISABELLA. Art avis'do' that? more on 't. Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me? ab. Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That's like my brother's fault: if it confess 140 A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life. Ang. Aside. She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well. Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back. Ang. I will bethink me. Come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark how I'll bribe you. Good my lord, turn back. 170 Not she, nor doth she tempt; but it is I, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, 18) With saints dost bait thy hook. Most dangerous SCENE III.--A Room in a Prison. Enter DUKE, disguised as a friar, and Provost. Duke. Hail to you, provost! so I think you are. Prov. I am the provost. What's your will, good friar? Duke. Bound by my charity and my bless'd order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful. There rest. Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him. Grace go with you! Benedicite! Exit. 41 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, Prov. 'Tis pity of him. Excunt. SCENE IV.-A Room in ANGELO'S House. Enter ANGELO. Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words, Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, 10 And in my heart the strong and swelling evil Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answer. 90 Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the loss of question,-that you, his sister, Finding yourself desir'd of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-building law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this suppos'd, or else to let him suffer; What would you do? 101 Isab. As much for my poor brother as myself: Ang. Better it were a brother died at once, Should die for ever. 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, we mean. Isab. To whom should I complain? Did I tell Who would believe me? O perilous mouths! I something do excuse the thing I hate, If not a feodary, but only he Ang. Nay, women are frail too. 120 Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them- Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Ang. 130 I think it well; Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my 140 Let me entreat you speak the former language. Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Ang. Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, 150 And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for 't: Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world What man thou art. On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up, 180 If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing For all the accommodations that thou bear'st For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 20 For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains Ang. For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, 30 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, |