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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 in a taphouse, but I am drawn in.
Escal. Well: no more of it, Master Froth: farewell. Erit FROTH. Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What's your name, Master tapster?
Escal. What else?
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. 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?
Enter Lucio anil ISABELLA.
Found out the remedy. How would you be,
If He, which is the top of judgment, should Prov.
God save your honour ! But judge you as you are ? 0! think on that, 79 Ang. Stay a little while. To ISABELLA. You're And mercy then will breathe within your lips, welcome : what's your will ?
Like man new made. Isub. I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Ang.
Be you content, fair maid ; Please but your honour hear me.
It is the law, not I, condemns your brother : Ang.
Well ; what's your suit? Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, Isab. There is a vice that most I do abhor, 2 It should be thus with him : he must die to. And most desire should meet the blow of justice, For which I would not plead, but that I must Isab. To-morrow! O! that's sudden. Spare For which I must not plead, but that I am
him, spare bim! At war 'twixt will and will not.
He's not prepar'd for death. Even for our Ang.
Well; the matter ? kitchens Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die: We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
With less respect than we do minister And not my brother.
To our gross selves ? Good, good my lord, beProv. Aside. Heaven give thee moving graces ! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor who is it that hath died for this offence ? of it?
There's many have committed it. Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done. Lucio. To ISABELLA.
Ay, well said. Mine were the very cipher of a function,
Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it To fine the faults whose fine stands in record, hath slept : And let go by the actor.
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, Isab.
O just but severe law! If the first that did the edict infringe I had a brother then. Heaven keep your honour! Had answer'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake, Lucio. TO ISABELLA. Give't not o'er so: to Takes note of what is done, and, like a prophet, him again, entreat him ;
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils, Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; Either new, or by remissness new-conceiv'd, You are too cold ; if you should need a pin, And so in progress to be hatch'd and born, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it. Are now to have no successive degrees, To him, I say !
But, ere they live, to end. Isab. Must he needs die ?
Yet show some pity. Ang.
Maiden, no remedy. Ang. I show it most of all when I show justice; Isub. Yes ; I do think that you might pardon For then I pity those I do not know, him,
5) Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall, And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. And do him right, that, answering one foul Ang. I will not do 't.
But can you, if you would ? Lives not to act another. Be satisfied : Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. Your brother dies to-morrow : be content. Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no Isab. So you must be the first that gives this wrong.
sentence, If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse And he that suffers. 0! it is excellent As mine is to him ?
To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous Ang.
He's sentenc'd: 'tis too late. To use it like a giant. Lucio. To ISABELLA. You are too cold.
Lucio. To ISABELLA. That's well said. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a Isab. Could great men thunder word,
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, May call it back again. Well, believe this, For every pelting, petty officer No ceremony that to great ones ’longs, 60 Would use his heaven for thunder ; nothing but Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, thunder. The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Merciful heaven! Become them with one half so good a grace Thon rather with thy sharp and sulphurons bolt As mercy does.
Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak If he had been as you, and you as he,
Than the soft myrtle ; but man, proud man, You would have slipp'd like him ; but he, like Drest in a little brief anthority, you,
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, Would not have been so stern.
His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Ang.
Pray you, be gone. Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency, As make theangels weep ; who, with our spleens, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus ? Would all themselves laugh mortal. No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, 70 Lucio. To ISABELLA. O! to him, to him, And what a prisoner.
wench. He will relent : Lucio. To ISABELLA. Ay, touch him ; there's He's coming ; I perceive't. the vein.
Prov. Aside. Pray heaven she win him! Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, Isab. We cannot weighour brother with ourself : And you but waste your words.
Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them, Isab.
Alas! alas! But in the less foul profanation. Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once ; Lucio. To ISABELLA. Thou ’rt in the right, And He that might the vantage best have took, 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,