Put that to your fufficiency, as your worth is able, of it? Enter Angelo. Ang. Always obedient to your Grace's will, Duke. Angelo, Then no more remains, And let them werk. Heav'n doth with us, as we with torches do, Ang. Now, good my Lord, my metal, Duke. Come, no more evasion: goes with and do look to know Ang. Yet give me leave, my Lord, Duke. My haste may not admit it; us; --for if our virtues As if we bad tbem nor.] This sentiment seems to have sprung from the following passages of Horace, Lib. 4. Ode 9. Paulum sepulta diftat Inertia Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do Their loud applause, and Aves vehement : Ang. The heav'ns give safety to your purposes ! you, [Exit. Ang. 'Tis so with me: let us withdraw together, [Exeunt. SCENE, the Street. Enter Lucio, and two Gentlemen. Lucio. F the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why, then all the Dukes fall upon the King. i Gent. Heav'n grant us its peace, but not the King of Hungary's ! 2 Gent. Amen. Lucio. Thou conclud'ft like the fanctimonious pirate, that went to sea with the ten Commandments, but serap'd one out of the table. 2 Gent. Thou shalt not steal.. Lucio. Ay, that he raz’d. i Gent. Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and all the rest from their functions; they put forth to steal; there's not a soldier of us all, that, in the thankfgiving before meát, do relish the petition for peace. Lutiö. I believe thee : for, I think, thou never wast 2 Gent. No? a dozen times at least. Lucio. Ay, why not? grace is grace, despight of all i Gent. Well; there went but a pair of sheers between us. Lucio. I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet. Thou art the list. i Gent. And thou the velvet; thou art good velvet ; thou’rt a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee: I had as lief be a list of an English kersey, as be pil'd, as thou art pild, for a French velvet. Do I speak feelingly now? Lucio. I think thou dost; and, indeed, with moft painful feeling of thy speech : I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilft I live forget to drink after thee. i Gent. I think, I have done myself wrong, have I not? 2 Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art tainted, or free. Lucio. Behold, behold, where madam Mitigation comes. i Gent. I have purchas'd as many diseases under her 2 Gent. To what, I pray? I Gent. money so callid, (3) A French crown more.] Lucio means here not the piece of i Gent. Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou art full of error; I am sound. Lucio. Nay, not as one would say healthy; but fo found, as things that are hollow; thy bones are hol. low; impiety hath made a feaft of thee. Enter Bawd. 1 Gent. How now, which of your hips has the moft profound sciatica? Bawd. Well, well; there's one yonder arrested, and carry'd to prison, was worth five thousand of you all. i Gent. Who's that, I pr’ythee? Bawd. Marry, Sir, that's Claudio; Signior Claudio. i Gent. Claudio to prison? 'tis not so. Bawd. Nay, but I know, 'tis fo; I saw him arrested ; saw him carry'd away; and, which is more, within these three days his head is to be chopt off. Lucio. But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so: art thou sure of this? Bawd. I am too sure of it; and it is for getting madam Julietta with child. Lucio. Believe me, this may be; he promis'd to meet me two hours fince, and he was ever precise in promife-keeping 2 Gent. Besides, you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose. Gent. But most of all agreeing with the procla. mation, Lucio. Away, let's go learn the truth of it. (Exe. fil'd corona veneris. To this, I think our Author likewise makes Quince allude in Midsummer-Night's Dream. Some of your French crowns have no hair at all, and then you will play bare-faced. As Ben Fobnfon does likewise in Cyntbia's Revels. Afor. I, Sir, I'll assure you, 'tis a beaver, It coft me eight crowns but this morning. Amo. After your French account? Cri. And so near his head ? -Befhrew me, dangerous. For where these eruptions are, the full is carious, and the party becomes bald, Manet |