Cast. Hang the people,
Give me the pleasure, let me do all, awe all,
Enjoy their Wives and States at my discretion,
And peg 'em when I please, let the slaves mumble.
Vil. But say they should be vex'd, and rise against thee?
Cast. Let 'em rise, let 'em rise: give me the bridle here,
And see if they can crack my girths: ah Villio,
Under the Sun there's nothing so voluptuous
As riding of this Monster, till he founder.
Fer. Who's that so loud?
Cast. I am dumb: is not this rare?
Kings looks make Pythagoreans; is not this
A happiness Villio?
Vil. Yes, to put to silence
A fawning sycophant.
Fer. Thou speak'st truth in all,
And mercy is a vice, when there needs rigor,
Which I, with all severity, will practice;
And since, as subjects they pay not obedience,
They shall be forc'd as slaves: I will remove
Their means to hurt, and with the means, my fears;
Goe you the fatal executioners
Of my commands, and in our name proclaim,
That from this hour I do forbid all meetings,
All private conferences in the City:
To feast a neighbor shall be death: to talk,
As they meet in the streets, to hold discourse,
By writing, nay by signs; see this perform'd,
And I will call your cruelty, to those
That dare repine at this, to me true service.
1 Gard. This makes for us.
2 Gard. I, now we have employments,
If we grow not rich, 'twere fit we should be beggars.
Fer. Ronvere. [Exit Guard.