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hall beat you to your tent, and prove a fhrewd Cafar to you in plain dealing, Pompey, I fhall have you whipt fo for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

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Clown. I thank your worthip 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. [Exit.. Efcal. Came hither to me, mafter Elbow come hither, mafter constable; how long have you been in this place of constable ?

Elb. Seven year and a half, Sir.

Ejcal. I thought, by your readiness in the office, you. -had continued in it fome time; you fay, feven years. together?

Elb. And a half, Sir.

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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 chufe me for them. I do it for fome piece of money, 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 house, Sir?

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

Just. Eleven, Sir.

[Exit Elbow,

Efcal. I pray you, home to dinner with me.

Just. I humbly thank you.

Efcal. It grives me for the death of Claudio:

But there's no remedy.

Just. Lord Angelo is fevere.

Efcal. It is but needful :

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

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

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Enter Provoft, and a Servant.

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 pleasure; 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, Proveft ? Prov. Is it your will, Claudio fhall die to-morrow ? Ang. Did not I tell thee, yea? hadit thou not order Why doft thou ask again ? pan and avoi Prov. Left I might be too rafhlt manobret Under your good correction, I have feen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom.

Aug. Go to; let that be mine,

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

Prov. I crave your pardon..

What shall be done, Sir, with the groaning Julie
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 fifter ?..

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Prov. Ay, my good Lord, a very virtuous maid,p A

And to be fhortly of a fifter-hood,

If not already.

Ang. Well; let her be admitted.

See you, the fornicatrefs be remov'd;

[Exit Servant..

Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;
There fhall be order for it.

Enter Lucio and Isabella.

Prov. 'Save your honour.

Ang

Ang. Stay yet a while.-Y'are welcome; what's your will?

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fab. I am a woeful fuitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me,

Ang. Well, what's your fuit?

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fab. There is a vice that moft I do abhor,
And moft defire fhould 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 ab
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.

Ang. Well; the matter?

not,

Ijab. 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!

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Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done; ba Mine were the very cypher of a function,

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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 fhould need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue defire it.
To him, I fay.

Ifab. Muft he needs die ?

Ang. Maiden, no remedy.

Ifab. Yes; I do think, that you might pardon him; And neither heav'n, nor man, grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do't.

Ifab. But can you if you would?

Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.

Jab. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, If fo your heart were touch'd with that remorse, As mine is to him?

Ang. He's fentenc'd; 'tis too late.

Lucio. You are too cold,

ab. Too late? why, no; I, that do fpeak a word,

May

May call it back again: Well believe this, (9)
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the King's crown, nor the deputed fword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half fo good a grace,
As mercy does if he had been as you,

And you as he, you would have flipt like him ;
But he, like you, would not have been fo ftern.
Ang. Pray you, be gone..

Ifab. I wou'd to heav'n I had your potency,
And you were fabel; fhould it then be thus ?
No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prifoner.

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

Ifab. Alas! alas!

Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once;
And he, that might the 'vantage beft 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? oh, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

(9) Well, believe this,] This manner of pointing, which runs thro all the copies, gives an air of addrefs too familiar for an inferior to ufe to a perfon of diftinction. But taking away the comma after, well, not only removes the objection, but reftores a mode of expreffion, which our Author delights to use. Well believe this; ie. Be Bonvinc'd, be throughly affur'd of this.

'So, afterwards, in this Play, Angelo says ;.

I think it well.

So, Gonzalo, in the Tempe.

I do well believe your Highnefs,

And fo, in King Febn;

And well fhall you perceive

So one of the Gentlemen in the opening Scene of Cymbeline ;

I do well believe.

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Ang. Be you content, fair maid;

It is the law, not 1, condemns your brother.
Were he my kinfman, brother, or my fon,
It fhould be thus with him; he dies to-morrow.
Ifab. To-morrow? oh! that's fudden.
fpare him.

Spare him,

He's not prepar'd for death: Even for our kitchins
We kill the fowl, of feafon; fhall we serve heav'n
With less respect, than we do minifter ove

To our grofs felves? good, good my Lord, bethink you?
Who is it, that hath dy'd for this offence?
There's many have committed it.

Lucio. Ay, well said. ⠀ takva

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Ang. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath flept Thofe many had not dar'd to do that evil,

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If the first man, that did th' edict infringe,
Had answer'd for his deed. Now, 'tis awake
Takes note of what is done; and, like a Prophet,
Looks in a glafs that fhews what future evils,
Or new, or by remifsnefs new conceiv'd,
And fo in progress to be hatch'd and born,
Are now to have no fucceffive degrees;
But here they live. to end.

Ifab. Yet thew fome pity.

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Ang. I fhew it most of all, when I fhew juftice; da

For then I pity thofe, I do not know;

Which a difmifs'd offence would after g

gaul;

And do him right, that, anfwering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be fatisfy'd ;

Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Ifab. So you must be the firft, that gives this fentence } And he, that fuffers: oh, 'tis excellent

To have a giant's ftrength; but it is tyrannous,
To ufe it like a giant.

Lucio. That's well faid.

Ifab. Could great men thunder

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet
For every pelting, petty, officer

Would ufe his heav'n for thunder;

Nothing but thunder: merciful heav'n!

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