_Get._ I think I shall be.-- _2 Lict._ Your worship is a man of a spare body, And prone to anger. _Get._ Nay, I will be angry, And, the best is, I need not shew my reason. _2 Lict._ You need not, Sir, your place is without reason; And what you want in growth and full proportion, Make up in rule and rigour. _Get._ A rare Counsellor; Instruct me further. Is it fit, my friends, The Emperour my Master _Dioclesian_ Should now remember or the times or manners That call'd him plain down _Diocles_? _1 Lict._ He must not, It stands not with his Royaltie. _Get._ I grant ye, I being then the _Edile Getianus_, A man of place, and Judge, is it held requisite I should commit to my consideration Those Rascals of removed and ragged hours, That with unreverend mouths call'd me Slave _Geta_? _2 Lict._ You must forget their names; your honour bids ye. _Get._ I do forget; but I'le hang their natures: I will ascend my place, which is of Justice; And mercy, I forget thee. _Suitor._ A rare Magistrate! Another _Solon_ sure. _Get._ Bring out the offenders. _1 Lict._ There are none yet, Sir, but no doubt there will be. But if you please touch some things of those natures. _Get._ And am I ready, and mine anger too? The melancholy of a Magistrate upon me, And no offenders to execute my fury? Ha? no offenders, knaves? _1 Lict._ There are knaves indeed, Sir, But we hope shortly to have 'em for your worship. _Get._ No men to hang or whip? are you good officers, That provide no fuel for a Judges fury? In this place something must be done; this Chair, I tell ye, When I sit down, must savour of Severitie: Therefore I warn ye all, bring me lewd people, Or likely to be lewd; twigs must be cropt too: Let me have evil persons in abundance, Or make 'em evil; 'tis all one, do but say so, That I may have fit matter for a Magistrate; And let me work. If I sit empty once more, And lose my longing, as I am true _Edile_, And as I hope to rectifie my Countrie, You are those scabs I will scratch off from the Commonwealth, You are these Rascals of the State I treat of, And you shall find and feel.-- _2 Lict._ You shall have many, Many notorious people. _Get._ Let 'em be people, And take ye notorious to your selves. Mark me, my Lictors, And you, the rest of my Officials; If I be angry, as my place will ask it, And want fit matter to dispose my Authoritie, I'le hang a hundred of ye: I'le not stay longer, Nor enquire no further into your offences: It is sufficient that I find no Criminals, And therefore I must make some: if I cannot, Suffer my self; for so runs my Commission. _Suitor._ An admirable, zealous and true Justice.