Nay, every village, circled by a ditch,
Would think itself a town impregnable;
Check the full vigour of our march, and worry
Our armies with resistance.
Queen. And yet, my liege, I cannot chuse but pity
The wretched men, who now must suffer for it.
King. Justice, madam,
Minute in her stern exercise of office,
Is comprehensive in effect; and when
She points her sword to the particular,