Flam. You shall not take justice forth from my hands,
Oh, let me kill her!—I 'll cut my safety
Through your coats of steel. Fate 's a spaniel,
We cannot beat it from us. What remains now?
Let all that do ill, take this precedent:
Man may his fate foresee, but not prevent;
And of all axioms this shall win the prize:
'Tis better to be fortunate than wise.
Gas. Bind him to the pillar.
Vit. Oh, your gentle pity!
I have seen a blackbird that would sooner fly
To a man's bosom, than to stay the gripe
Of the fierce sparrow-hawk.
Gas. Your hope deceives you.
Vit. If Florence be i' th' court, would he would kill me!
Gas. Fool! Princes give rewards with their own hands,
But death or punishment by the hands of other.
Lodo. Sirrah, you once did strike me; I 'll strike you
Unto the centre.
Flam. Thou 'lt do it like a hangman, a base hangman,
Not like a noble fellow, for thou see'st
I cannot strike again.
Lodo. Dost laugh?
Flam. Wouldst have me die, as I was born, in whining?