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 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?
Gas. Recommend yourself to heaven.
Flam. No, I will carry mine own commendations thither.
Lodo. Oh, I could kill you forty times a day,
And use 't four years together, 'twere too little!
Naught grieves but that you are too few to feed
The famine of our vengeance.
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