When I have shorn their fleeces I may feed them. As for these rebels— [Duchess entreats him.]

Duchess

First Citizen

First Citizen

That is a kind word, He means to give us something.

Second Citizen

Second Citizen

Is that so?

Duke

Duke

These ragged knaves who come before us here, With mouths chock-full of treason.

Third Citizen

Third Citizen

Good my Lord, Fill up our mouths with bread; we’ll hold our tongues.

Duke

Duke

Ye shall hold your tongues, whether you starve or not. My lords, this age is so familiar grown, That the low peasant hardly doffs his hat, Unless you beat him; and the raw mechanic Elbows the noble in the public streets.

[To the Citizens.]

Still as our gentle Duchess has so prayed us, And to refuse so beautiful a beggar Were to lack both courtesy and love, Touching your grievances, I promise this—

First Citizen

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