A writ to take _me_ up! excuse me, sir, You do mistake, I am an officer In public service, for my private wealth; My business is, if any seek by stealth To undermine the state, I do discover Their falsehood; therefore hold your hand,—give over. DEATH. Nay, fair and soft! ’tis not so quickly done As you conceive it is: I am not gone A jot the sooner for your hasty chat, Nor bragging language; for I tell you flat ’Tis more than so, though fortune seem to thwart us, Such easy terms I don’t intend shall part us. With this impartial arm I’ll make you feel My fingers first, and with this shaft of steel I’ll peck thy bones! _as thou alive wert hated_, _So dead_, _to dogs thou shalt be segregated_. EXCISEMAN. I’d laugh at that; I would thou didst but dare To lay thy fingers on me; I’d not spare To hack thy carcass till my sword was broken, I’d make thee eat the words which thou hast spoken; All men should warning take by thy transgression, How they molested men of my profession. My service to the State is so well known, That should I but complain, they’d quickly own My public grievances; and give me right To cut your ears, before to-morrow night. DEATH. Well said, indeed! but bootless all, for I Am well acquainted with thy villany; I know thy office, and thy trade is such, Thy service little, and thy gains are much: Thy brags are many; but ’tis vain to swagger, And think to fight me with thy gilded dagger: _As I abhor thy person_, _place_, _and threat_, So now I’ll bring thee to the judgment-seat. EXCISEMAN. The judgment-seat! I must confess that word Doth cut my heart, like any sharpened sword: What! come t’ account! methinks the dreadful sound Of every word doth make a mortal wound, Which sticks not only in my outward skin, But penetrates my very soul within. ’Twas least of all my thoughts that ever Death Would once attempt to stop excisemen’s breath. But since ’tis so, that now I do perceive You are in earnest, then I must relieve Myself another way: come, we’ll be friends; If I have wrongèd thee, I’ll make th’ amends. Let’s join together; I’ll pass my word this night Shall yield us grub, before the morning light. Or otherwise (to mitigate my sorrow), Stay here, I’ll bring you gold enough to-morrow. DEATH. To-morrow’s gold I will not have; and thou Shalt have no gold upon to-morrow: now My final writ shall to th’ execution have thee, All earthly treasure cannot help or save thee. EXCISEMAN.