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. not? come, tell me true; it shall be the better

Are you

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 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 threepence 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.

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 whipt 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 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.

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 manners: 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 woe:
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.] I'll 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!

Ang.

Enter ANGELO.

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.
Under your good correction, I have seen,
When, after execution, judgment hath
Repented o'er his doom.

Ang.

Lest I might be too rash;

Go to; let that be mine;

I crave your honour's pardon.

Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you shall well be spar'd."

Prov.
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.

[Exit Servant.

See you, 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.-[To Isab.] You are wel

come: What's your will?

Isab. 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,
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
'twixt will, and will not.

Well; the matter?

At war,
Ang.
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 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

n;

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.

1sab. 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. Isub. 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; 'tis too late.

Lucio. You are too cold.

[To Isabella. 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 marshall'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;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.
Ang. Pray you, begone.

Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?
No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prisoner.

Lucio. Ay, touch him: there's the vein.
Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words.

Isab.
Alas! alas!
Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once;
And He that might the 'vantage best have took,
Found out the remedy: How would you be,
If he, which is the top of judgment, should
But judge you as you are? O think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

[Aside.

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; 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 man that did the edict infringe,
Had answer'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils