Are you not? come, tell me true; it fhall be the better for you.

Clown. Truly, fir, 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, fir.

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 spay all the youth in the city?

Efcal. No, Pompey.

Clown. Truly, fir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then. If your worship will but 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 houfe in it, after three pence a bay 7: If you live to fee this come to pafs, fay, Pompey told you fo.

Efcal. Thank you, good Pompey: and in requital

I'llrent the fair eft house in it, for three pence a bay :] 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 houfes 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.

WARBURTON.

A bay of building is, in many parts of England, a common term, of which the best conception that I could ever attain, is, that it is the space between the main beams of the roof; so that a barn croffed twice with beams is a barn of three bays. JOHNSON.

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 fhall have you whipt. So, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

Clown. I thank your worship for your good counfel. [Afide.] 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. Come hither to me, master Elbow; come hither, mafter conftable. How long have you been in this place of constable?

Elb. Seven years and a half, fir.

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

Elb. And a half, fir.

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 ferve it?

Elb. Faith, fir, 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, fir?

Efcal. To my houfe: Fare you well. [Exit Elbow, What's a clock, think you?

Juft. Eleven, fir.

Escal. 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.

Just. Lord Angelo is fevere.
Efcal. It is but needful:

Mercy is not itself, that oft looks fo;

Pardon is ftill the nurse of second woe:

But yet,-poor Claudio !-There's no remedy.

Come, fir.

SCENE II.

ANGELO's HOUSE.

Enter Provoft, and a Servant.

[Exeunt.

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 pleasure; may be, he will 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 afk again?

Prov. Left I might be too rafh.

Under your good correction, I have feen,

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 spar'd.

Prov. I crave your honour's pardon.

What shall be done, fir, 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 shortly 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 shall be order for it.

Enter Lucio and Ifabella.

Prov. 'Save your honour!

Ang. Stay yet a while.3-[To Ifab.] You are welcome; what's your will?

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

Ang. Well, what's your fuit?

Ijab. There is a vice, that moft 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 muft 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:

Stay yet a while. It is not clear why the provoft is biddden to stay, nor when he goes out. JOHNSON.

9 For which I must not plead, but that I am

At war, 'twixt will, and will not.]

This is obfcure; perhaps it may be mended by reading,

For which I must now plead; but yet I am

At war, 'twixt will, and will not.

Yet and yt are almost undillinguishable in a manufcript. Yet no alteration is neceffary, fince the speech is not unintelligible as it now ftands. JOHNSON.

I do

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 cypher of a function,

To find the faults, whofe fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.

Ifab. O juft, but severe law!

I had a brother then.-Heaven keep your honour!
Lucio. [To Ifab.] Give't 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. Must he needs die?

Ang. Maiden, no remedy.

Jab. Yes; I do think, that you might pardon

him,

And neither heaven, 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

If fo

wrong,

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.

[To Ifabel.

Ifab. 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 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