he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her.

Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. Escal No, sir, nor I mean it not.

Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave: And, I beseech you, look into master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmas : - Was't not at Hallowmas, master Froth?

Froth. All-hollond eve.

Clo. Why, very well; I hope here be truths: He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; — - 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you have a delight to sit Have you not?

Froth. I have so; because it is an open room, and good for winter.

Clo. Why, very well then;- I hope here be truths. Ang. This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there: I'll take my leave, And leave you to the hearing of the cause; Hoping, you'll find good cause to whip them all. Escal. I think no less: Good morrow to your lordship. [Exit ANGELO. Now, sir, come on: What was done to Elbow's wife, once more?

Clo. Once, sir? there was nothing done to her

once.

Elb. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.

Clo. I beseech your honour, ask me. Escal. Well, sir: what did this gentleman to her? Clo. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face: Good master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose: Doth your honour mark lus face?

Escal. Ay, sir, very well.

Clo. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well.
Escal. Well, I do so.

Clo. Doth your honour see any harm in his face?
Escal. Why, no.

Clo. I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him: Good then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could master Froth do the constable's wife any harm? I would know that of your honour.

Escal. He's in the right: Constable, what say you to it?

Elb. First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman.

Clo. By this hand, sir, his wife, is a more respected person than any of us all.

Elb. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet: the time is vet to come, that she was ever respected, with man, woman, or child.

Clo. Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.

Escal. Which is the wiser here? Justice, or Iniquity? Is this true?

--

Elb. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her, before I was married to her? If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke's officer:- Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee. Escal. If he took you a box o' th' ear, you might have your action of slander too.

Elb. Marry, I thank your good worship for it: What is't your worship's pleasure I should do with this wicked caitiff?

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? 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 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 three-pence a bay: If you live to see this come to pass, say, Pompey told you so.

:

and, in re

Escal. Thank you, good Pompey quital 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. [Erit. Escal. Come hither to me, master Elbow; core hither, master Constable. How long have you bee. 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?

Prov. Save your honour! [Offering to retire. Ang. Stay a little while. [To ISAB.] You are welcome: 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 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.
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 ! 1 had a brother then. - Heaven keep your honour!

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; '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 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 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,

Lucio. Ay, touch him: there's the vein. Aside

Enter DUKE, habited like 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

Here in the prison: do me the common right

To let me see them; and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.

Prov. I would do more than that if more were

Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name;
And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception: The state whereon I studied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form!
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,
'Tis not the devil's crest.