Par. 'Tis well.
Capt. But my anger ends not here. Remember the base language you gave me—son of a thousand fathers; captain of a tame band; and one that got my living by the longstaff-speeches—for which and thy former treacheries I'll ruin thee, slave. I'll have no more mercy on thee than old women on blind puppies. I'll bring you to your commendations in Latin epistles again, nor leave thee anything to live on—no, not bread—but what thou earn'st by raking gentlewomen's names in anagrams.[263] And, master justice, if ever you'll oblige me, stand to me now, that I may procure the whipping of him from the reverend bench.
Par. I am undone.
Wild. I can do nothing but justice: you must excuse me. I shall only make it appear how fit it is to punish this kind of sin in that coat in time, and to crush such serpents in the shells.
Par. Mercy, O, mercy!
Wild. Officers, away with him.
[They pull him away.
Par. No mercy?
Wan. Yes, upon conditions, there may be some mercy.
[The Parson looks very dejected.