That else had fallen to ground: mere duty done.
Oversight of the master just supplied
By zeal i' the servant. I, being used to serve,
Have simply ... what is it they charge me with?
Blackened again, made legible once more
Your own decree, not permanently writ,
Rightly conceived but all too faintly traced.
It reads efficient, now, comminatory,
A terror to the wicked, answers so
The mood o' the magistrate, the mind of law.