Elb. 'Faith sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they
are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it
for some peece of money, and goe through with all

Esc. Looke you bring mee in the names of some sixe
or seuen, the most sufficient of your parish

Elb. To your Worships house sir?
Esc. To my house: fare you well: what's a clocke,
thinke you?
Iust. Eleuen, Sir

Esc. I pray you home to dinner with me

Iust. I humbly thanke you

Esc. It grieues me for the death of Claudio
But there's no remedie:
Iust. Lord Angelo is seuere

Esc. It is but needfull.
Mercy is not it selfe, that oft lookes so,
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
But yet, poore Claudio; there is no remedie.
Come Sir.

Exeunt.


Scena Secunda.