King. Surely there may; speak, man: I'll give thee double fees.
Matho. It cannot be, my liege; the statute is plain.
King. Nay, now thou art too honest; thou shouldst do,
As other lawyers do: first take my money,
And then tell me thou canst do me no good.
Matho. I dare not undertake it; could it be done,
I'd go as far as any man would do.
King. Yes, if it were to cut a poor man's throat, you could;
For some rich griping landlord you could grind
The face of his poor tenant, stretch the law
To serve his turn, and, guided by his angels,
Speak oracles more than the tongues of men.
Then you could find exceptions, reservations,
Stand at a word, a syllable, a letter,
Go coin some scruples out of your own brains:
But in a case so full of equity,
So charitable as this, you can find nothing.
I shall for ever hate all your profession.
Matho. I do beseech your highness to excuse me:
I cannot do more than your laws will let me;
Nor falsify my knowledge nor my conscience.
King. Then I am miserable. Rise, Matho, rise,
I do not discommend thy honesty,
But blame my own hard fate. Ah, Philocles!
I would redeem thy life at any price;
But the stars cross it: cruel fate condemns thee.
[Exeunt.
Enter Constable and Watch.[435]
Con. Come, fellow-watchmen, for now you are my fellows.