SCENE III.
The Street.
Enter Lucio, and two Gentlemen.
Lucio.
If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not
to composition with the King of Hungary,
why, then all the Dukes fall upon the King.
1 Gent.
Heav'n grant us its peace, but not the King
of Hungary's!
2 Gent.
Amen.
Lucio.
Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious Pirate,
that went to sea with the ten Commandments,
but scrap'd one out of the Table.
2 Gent.
Thou shalt not steal.—
Lucio.
Ay, that he raz'd.
1 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 thanksgiving before meat, does relish the petition
well that prays for Peace.
2 Gent.
I never heard any soldier dislike it.
-- 360 --
Lucio.
I believe thee: for, I think, thou never wast
where grace was said.
2 Gent.
No? a dozen times at least.
1 Gent.
What, in meeter?
Lucio.
9 noteIn any proportion, or in any language.
1 Gent.
I think, or in any religion.
Lucio.
Ay, why not? grace is grace, 1 notedespight of
all controversie; as for example, thou thy self art a
wicked villain, despight of all grace.
1 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.
1 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 pil'd, for a French velvet. Do I speak
feelingly now?
Lucio.
I think, thou dost; and, indeed, with most
painful feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own
confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I
live, forget to drink after thee.
1 Gent.
I think, I have done my self wrong, have
I not?
2 Gent.
Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art
tainted, or free.
Lucio.
Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation
comes.
-- 361 --
1 Gent.
I have purchas'd as many diseases under her
roof, as come to—
2 Gent.
To what I pray?
1 Gent.
Judge.
2 Gent.
To three thousand dollars a year.
1 Gent.
Ay, and more.
Lucio.
A French crown more.
1 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 so
sound, as things that are hollow; thy bones are hollow;
impiety hath made a feast of thee.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
