Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it; thou feeft, thou wicked varlet now, what's come upon thee. Thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue. Efcal. Where were you born, friend? 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 Froth.

[To the Clown.

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

Clown. Miftrefs Over-don.

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

Efcal. Nine? come hither to me, master Froth: mafter Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapfters; they will draw you, mafter 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, [Exit. Froth Come you hither to me, mafter tapfter; what's your name, master 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; howsoever you colour it in being a tapfter; are you not? come, tell me true, it shall be the better for you.

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,

Clorun. 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 splay 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, (8) 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 fo.

Efcal. Thank you, good Pompey; and in requital of your prophecy, hark you: I advife you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey,

(8) I'll rent the fairest boufe in it, after three-pence a day.] This reading first got place in Mr. Pope's impreffion, who, I prefume, did not know how to account for, bay, the reading of the old copies; and which I have restor'd to the text. For my part, I believe, our Poet had no notion of reducing houfe-rent to a proportion by the day. The meaning is this. The fashion of buildings, in our Author's time, was to have two or three femi-circular juttings out in front, (which we still fee in the remains of old houses,) where the windows were plac'd: And these projections were call'd bays; as the windows were, from them, call'd bay-windows, or compass-windows: the laft of which terms we meet with in our Author's Troilus and Creffida.

She came to him t'other day into the compass-windowv.

Minshew tells us, the reafon of the name being given was, because this form of building resembled a bay, or road for fhips, which is always round, and bow-ing, to break off the force of the water.— So that houses, as I faid, having not above two or three of these juttings out, the Clown fays, "the houfes won't be worth above three pence a bay," i. e. nine pence per year at the largest computation. I had almoft forgot to obferve, that CHAUCER mentions a bay-window in his Court of Love.

And there befide, within a bay-windowve,

Stod one in grene, full large of bred and length, &c.

I fhall

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

Clown. I thank your worship for your good counfel; but I fhall 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. 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.

Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you; they do you wrong to put you fo oft upon't:

are there 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

not men in your ward fufficient to serve it?

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?

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 itself, that oft looks fo;
Pardon is ftill the nurfe of fecond woe:

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

[Exeunt.

Enter

Enter Provoft, and a Servant.

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

Prov. Pray you, do; I'll know

His pleafure; 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, Provoft? Prov. Is it your will, Claudio fhall die to-morrow? Ang. Did I not 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 feen,
When, after execution, judgment hath
Repented o'er his doom.

Do

Ang. Go to; let that be mine,

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 fifter?

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

If not already.

Ang. Well; let her be admitted.

See you, the fornicatress be remov'd;

[Exit Servant

Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;

There fhall be order for it.

Enter Lucio and Ifabella.

Prov. 'Save

your

honour.

Ang.

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

will?

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

Ang. Well; what's your fuit?

Ifab. There is a vice that most I do abhor,
And most defire 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?

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 cypher 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.

Ifa. 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.

Ifab. 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.

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

May