thee. Thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue.

Efcal. Where were you born, friend? [To Froth.
Froth. Here in Vienna, Sir.

Efcal. Are you of fourfcore pounds a year
Froth. Yes, and't please you, Sir.

Efcal. So. What trade are you of, Sir?

[To the Clown.

Clown. A tapfter, a poor widow's tapfter.
Efcal. Your mistress's name?

Clown. Miftrefs Over-done.

Efcal. Hath fhe had any more than one husband? Clown. Nine, Sir: Over-done by the laft.

Efcal. Nine? come hither to me, mafter Froth: mafter Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapfters; 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.

Efcal. Well; no more of it, mafter Froth; farewel.

SCENE

[Exit Froth.

IV.

Come you hither to me, mafter tapfter; what's your

name, mafter tapfter?

Clown. Pompey.

Efcal. What elfe?

Clown. Bum, Sir.

Efcal. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you, fo that, in the beaftlieft fenfe, you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey; howfoever you colour it in being a tapfter; are you not? come tell me true, it shall be the better

for you.

Clown.

Clown. Truly, Sir, I am a poor fellow that would

live.

Efcal. How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? what do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?

Clown. If the law will allow it, Sir.

Efcal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it fhall not be allowed in Vienna.

Clown. Does your worship mean to geld and fplay all the youth in the city?

Efcal. No, Pompey.

Clown. 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.

Efcal. There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you it is but heading and hanging.

Clown. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten years together, you'll be glad to give out a commiffion for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna ten years, I'll rent the faireft house in it, after three pence a bay: if you live to fee this come to pafs, fay, Pompey told you so.

Efcal. 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 whatfoever; no, not for dwelling where you do; if I do, Pompey, I fhall beat you to your tent, and prove a fhrewd Cæfar to you: in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: fo for this time, Pompey, fare you well,

2 I'll rent the fairest houfe in it, for three pence a bay: 1 Mr. Theobald found that this was the reading of the old books, and he follows it out of pure reverence for antiquity; for he knows nothing of the meaning of it. He fuppofes Bay to be that projection called a Bay-window; as if the way of rating houses was by the number of their Bay-windows. But it is quite another thing, and fignifies the fquared frame of a timber houfe; each of which divifions or fquares is called a Bay. Hence a building of fo many Bays.

Clown

Clown. I thank your worship for your good counfel; but I fhall follow it, as the flesh and fortune fhall better determine.

Whip me? no, no; let carman whip his jade;

The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade.

SCENE

V.

[Exit.

Efcal. Come hither to me, mafter Elbow; come hither, mafter conftable; how long have you been in. this place of constable?

Elb. Seven years and a half, Sir.

Efcal. I thought, by your readinefs in the office, you had continued in it fome time: you fay feven years together?

Elb. And a half, Sir.

Efcal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you; they do you wrong to put you fo oft upon't: are there not men in your ward fufficient to serve it?

Elb. Faith, Sir, few of any wit in fuch matters; as they are chofen, they are glad to chuse me for them. I do it for fome piece of mony, and go through with all.

Efcal. Look you, bring me in the names of fome fix or feven, the moft fufficient of your parish.

Elb. To your worship's houfe, Sir?

Efcal. To my houfe; fare you well. What's a clock, think you?

Juft. Eleven, Sir.

[Exit Elbow.

Efcal. I pray you, home to dinner with me.
Juft. I humbly thank you.

Efcal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio;

But there's no remedy.

Juft. Lord Angelo is fevere.

Efcal. It is but needful:

Mercy is not it felf, that oft looks fo;
Pardon is ftill the nurfe of fecond woe;

But

But yet, poor Claudio! there's no remedy.

Come, Sir.

SCEN E VI.

Enter Provoft, and a Servant.

[Exeunt.

Serv. He's hearing of a caufe; he will come ftraight: I'll tell him of you.

Prov. Pray you, do; I'll know

His pleafure; 't may be, he'll relent; alas!
He hath but as offended in a dream:

All fects, all ages fmack of this vice; and he
To die for it!

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter, Provost? Prov. Is it your will, Claudio fhall die to morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee, yea? hadft thou not order? Why doft thou ask again?

Prov. Left I might be too rash. Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom.

Ang. Go to; let that be mine,

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

Prov. I crave your pardon.

What shall be done, Sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour.

Ang. Difpofe of her

To fome more fitting place, and that with speed.
Serv. Here is the fifter of the man condemn'd,
Defires access to you.

Ang. Hath he a sister?

Prov. Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a fifter-hood,

If not already.

Ang.

[Exit Servant.

Ang. Well, let her be admitted.
See you, the fornicatress be remov'd;
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;
There fhall be order for it.

your will?

Ifab. I am a woful fuitor to your Honour, Please but your Honour hear me.

Ang. Well, what's your fuit?

Ifab. There is a vice that moft I do abhor,
And most defire should meet the blow of juftice;
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?

Ifab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die;
I do befeech you, let it be his fault,

And not my brother.

Prov. Heav'n 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, whofe fine ftands in record,
And let go by the actor.

Ifab. O juft, but severe law!

I had a brother then;

heav'n keep your Honour! Lucio. Give not o'er fo: to him again, intreat him, 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 defire it. To him, I fay.

Ifab. Muft he needs die?

Ang.