Classic Poem

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Room in justice Landby's House .

Enter MILLISCENT and GRATIANA .

Mil. 'Tis his command to whom I owe all service,
I should attend you.
Gra. Thou art too diligent.
I prithee leave me.
Mil. I should be unhappy
To be offensive in my duty; yet
Had I no charge upon me, I should much
Desire to wait.
Gra. On me?
Mil. I know not why;
Your sorrow does invite me.
Gra. Thou art too young
To be acquainted with it.
Mil. I know it would not
Become my distance to dispute with you,
At what age we are fittest to receive
Our grief's impression.
Gra. Leave me to myself.
Mil. I must, if you will have it so.
Gra. Methought
I saw him drop a tear. — Come back again: —
What should he mean by this unwillingness
To part? he looks as he would make me leave
My own misfortune to pity his: — thy name?
Mil. I am called Milliscent.
Gra. Dost thou put on
That countenance to imitate mine? or hast
A sorrow of thy own, thou wouldst express by't?
Mil. Mine does become my fortune;
Yet your's does so exactly paint out misery,
That he that wanted of his own, would mourn
To see your picture.
Gra. Mine is above
The common level of affliction.
Mil. Mine
Had no example to be drawn by. —
I would they were akin, so I might make
Your burthen less by mine own suffering.
Gra. I thank thy love.
Mil. And yet I prophesy
There's something would make mine a part of your's,
Were they examin'd.
Gra. Passion makes thee wild now.
Mil. You have encouraged me to boldness, pardon
My ruder language.
Gra. Didst thou ever love?
Mil. Too soon; from thence sprung my unhappiness.
Gra. And mine.
Mil. My affliction, riper than my years,
Hath brought me so much sorrow, I do not think
That I shall live to be a man.
Gra. I like thy sad expression, we'll converse,
And mingle stories.
Mil. I shall be too bold.
Gra. We lay aside distinctions if our fates
Make us alike in our misfortunes; yet
Mine will admit no parallel. — Ha!

Enter justice LANDBY , reading a letter .

We are interrupted. let's withdraw.
And I'll begin.
Mil. You may command; and when
Your story's done, mine shall maintain the scene.
Just. L. [reads.] — To maintain such bliss, I will
Wish to be transformed still.
Nor will't be a shame in love,
Since I imitate but Jove,
Who from heaven hath stray'd, and in
A thousand figures worse than mine,
Woo'd a virgin. may not I,
Then for thee a servant try?
Yes, for such a maid as thee.
Vary as many shapes as he:
Rawbone clothes my outward part,
But thy livery my heart.

Haver !
Ha! young Haver?
This letter I found in my daughter's prayerbook; is this your saint? how long have they conspir'd thus? Report gave out, he was gone to travel: it seems he stays here for a wind, and in the mean time would rig up my daughter: he is a gentleman well educated, but his fortune was consumed by a prodigal father ere he was ripe; which makes him, I suspect, borrow this shape to court my daughter; little does Rawbone think his servant is his rival; I find the juggling, and will take order they shall not steal a marriage —

Enter captain LANDBY .

Nephew, I have news for you.
Capt. L. For me, sir?
Just. L. You are a soldier; there's a duel to be fought this morning, will you see't?
Capt. L. It does not, sir, become a gentleman
To be spectator of a fight, in which
He's not engag'd.
Just. L. You may behold it, cousin,
Without disparagement to your honour; Rawbone
Has challenged master Lodam; the place Finsbury.
Capt. L. They fight? a doublet stuff'd with straw, advancing
A bull-rush, were able to fright them both
Out o' their senses; they have not soul enough
To skirmish with a field-mouse: they point a duel!
At Hogsdon, to shew fencing upon cream
And cake-bread; murder a quaking custard,
Or some such daring enemy.
Just L. Did not
Affairs of weight compel me to be absent,
I would not miss the sight on't; for the usurer
Hath got his man Jasper t' appear for him,
In his apparel.
Capt. L. Jasper?
Just. L. For mirth's sake
You may behold it; and let me entreat,
At your return, perfect relation
Of both their valours.
Capt. L. You shall, sir.
Just. L. And, coz —
If it be possible, procure them hither
Before they shift; I much desire to see them.
Capt. L. Promise yourself you shall.
I will defer my conference with Gratiana, and entertain this recreation.
Just. L. So; I have a fancy:
This opportunity will give it birth;
If all hit right, it may occasion mirth.

SCENE II.

Another Room in the Same.

Enter MILLISCENT and GRATIANA .

Gra. Which part of my discourse compels thee to
This suffering?
Mil. Your pardon, lady; I
Did prophesy what now I find; our stories
Have [a] dependence.
Gra. How, prithee?
Mil. That Marwood.
Whom you report thus wounded, had a near
Relation to me, and it was my fortune
To come to close his eyes up, and receive
His last breath.
Gra. Ha!
Mil. I know more than Beauford:
And dying, he obliged my love to tell it him
Whene'er we met.
Gra. You beget wonder in me:
Did he survive his slander? There is hope
He did recant the injury he did me.
Mil. He did confirm he had enjoy'd your person,
And bad me tell Beauford he left behind
A living witness of the truth he died for;
Naming a gentlewoman, [one] Cardona,
That bred you in your father's house; whom, he
Affirm'd, betray'd your body to his lust.
Gra. Cardona! — Piety has forsaken earth:
Was ever woman thus betray'd to sin,
Without her knowledge?
Mil. Would he had not been
My kinsman! I begin to fear him.
Gra. Wherein had I offended Marwood,
He should, alive and dead, so persecute
My fame? Cardona too in the conspiracy!
'Tis time to die then.
Mil. My heart mourns for you
In the assurance of your innocence,
And were I worthy to direct you —
Gra. Has
Malice found out another murderer?
Mil. Would you be pleas'd to hear me, I could point.
You out a path would bring you no repentance
To walk in, if (as I am confident)
Your goodness fears not what Cardona can
Accuse your honour with; let her be
Examin'd; then her knowledge will quit you,
Or make your suffering appear just; this is
An easy trial; and, since Marwood had
A stubborn soul, (for though he were my kinsman,
I prefer justice,) and held shame to check
His own report, women have softer natures;
And things may be so manag'd, if there be
A treason, to enforce confession from her:
Would you please to employ me in this service,
And, though unworthy, be directed by me,
(I beg it from you,) I'll engage my being
You shall find comfort in't.
Gra. Do any thing:
But I am lost already.
Mil. You much honour me.

SCENE III

Finsbury

Enter LODAM and CAMELION .

Lod. Camelion, see an if he be come yet; bring me word hither.
Cam. I see one lying o' the ground. —
Lod. Is there so? let's steal away before we be discovered, I do not like when men lie perdu; beside, there may be three or four of a heap, for aught we know: let's back, I say.
Cam. 'Tis a horse.
Lod. Hang him, jade! I knew it could be nothing else: Is the coast clear, Camelion?
Cam. I see nothing but five or six —
Lod. Five or six? treachery! an ambush! 'tis valour to run.
Cam. They be windmills.
Lod. And yet thou wouldst persuade me 'twas an ambush for me.
Cam. I?
Lod. Come, thou wert afraid, an the truth were known; but be valiant: I have a sword, and if I do draw, it shall — be against my will: [ aside. ] — Is he not come yet?
Cam. An he were between this and Moorgate, you might scent him.
Lod. If he come, somebody shall smell ill-savouredly ere he and I part. — Ha! by this flesh 'tis he; Cam; go tell him I am sick.

Enter Haver and RAWBONE , disguised in each
others clothes; followed at a distance by captain LANDBY .

Hav. Master Lodam.
Lod. A brace of bullets to my heart.
Capt. L. Here can I stand, and behold the champions.
Lod. I have expected you this two hours, which is more than I have done to all the men I have fought withal, since I slew the High German in Tuttle.
Capt. L. Whoreson mole-catcher!
Lod. Draw, spider!
Capt. L. Well said, toad.
Hav. Let us confer a little.
Lod. Confer me no conferrings: I will have no more mercy on thee than an infidel; an thou hadst been wise, thou mightest have kept thee at home with thy melancholy cat, that keeps thy study, with whom thou art in commons, and dost feed on rats on Sundays; then, perhaps, a leg or an arm, with thy Jew's ears, had satisfied me, when I met thee next: draw, I say; why dost not draw?
Hav. I come to give you satisfaction.
Lod. What, with words?
Sirrah Tartar, my fox shall scratch your guts out; which I will send to the Bear-garden: dost hear, usuring dog? I'll tell thee my resolution: I do mean to give thee as many wounds before I kill thee, as a surgeon's sign has: and when I am weary of scarifying thy flesh, I'll bore thy heart — which done, mark what I say, I will divide thy quarters: observe and tremble: then will I have thee put into a tub or barrel, and powder thee; and after three days in pickle, this thing that was thy servant, this cacodemon, whom thou didst starve once, Camelion, shall in revenge of his pitiful famine, eat thee up, devour thee, and grow fat i' the ribs again with thy flesh, mammon —
Cam. I hungrily thank your worship.
Raw. What have I 'scaped!
Lod. Which is more, — after thou art dead, I will not leave thy soul quiet, I'll torment thy ghost: for I will straight to thy house, where I will break open thy chest lined with white and yellow metal, which I will cast away on pious uses: then summon all thy debtors by a drum, and give them in all their bills, bonds, evidences, indentures, defeasances, mortgages, statutes.
Raw. I shall be undone.
Lod. An there were a million of them.
Raw. I'll home, and shut up my doors, for fear he kill Jasper, and use me so indeed.
Capt. L. [ appearing. ] — If thou dost offer to look home again, till they have done, I'll cut thee off at the thigh.
Raw. Ah. —
Lod. Draw, I say!
Hav. Since there is no remedy —
Lod. His sword appears, Cam.
Cam. If he were a coward you were able to conjure a spirit into him with those threat'nings.
Lod. Pox o' my dulness! — Dost hear, scoundrel? if I should incline to mercy, what submission? Ha! let me see — Ay, ay, live, thou shalt upon thy knees confess thy rascality, and ask me forgiveness in private, in the presence of mistress Jane, and the twelve companies, which, at thy charge, shall be feasted that day in Moorfields.
Hav. That must not be.
Lod. Then say when thou art dead, thou wert offered conditions for thy life: Cam, thou shalt feed, and feed high, Camelion. — Let me see — Come, 'tis my foolish nature to have compassion o' thee; I know thou art sorry; shalt only confess thyself a rascal under thy hand, then, and stay my intended revenge, which else would have been immortal.
Hav. Let me consider.
Lod. O, ho, Cam!
Capt. L. Both cowards; we shall have no skirmish.
Raw. Now I think on't, what if my man Jasper should be valiant, and kill Lodam — umph? what pickle were I in? worse, worse, he'll run away, I shall be taken and hanged for the conspiracy. — [ pulls Haver by the sleeve .] — Ah — Jasper, rogue that I was, where were my brains to challenge him — he will not hear — a stubborn knave, he looks as if he meant to kill: ah, Jasper!
Capt. L. I have seen a dog look like him, that has drawn a wicker bottle, rattling about the streets, and leering on both sides where to get a quiet corner to bite his tail off.
Raw. I do imagine myself apprehended already: now the constable is carrying me to Newgate — now, now, I'm at the Sessions-house, in the dock: — now I'm called — not guilty, my lord: — the jury has found the indictment, billa vera. — Now, now comes my sentence.
Hav. I am resolv'd, sir.
Raw. Ha! —
Hav. You shall have what acknowledgment this pen of steel will draw out in your flesh with red ink, and no other, dear master Lodam.
Lod. How?
Capt. L. So, so.
Raw. Now I'm in the cart, riding up Holborn in a two-wheeled chariot, with a guard of halbardiers. There goes a proper fellow , says one; good people pray for me: now I am at the three wooden stilts.
Lod. Is this Rawbone the coward? —
Dost hear, thing? consider what thou dost; come, among friends, thy word shall be as good as a note under thy hand, tempt not my fury — Would I were off with asking him forgiveness!
Raw. Hey! now I feel my toes hang i' the cart; now 'tis drawn away, now, now, now! — I am gone.
Hav. You must shew your fencing.
Lod. Hold: I demand a parley.
Hav. How?
Lod. 'Tis not for your reputation to deal with a gentleman upon unequal terms.
Hav. Where lie the odds?
Capt. L. How's this?
Lod. Examine our bodies:
I take it I am the fairer mark, 'tis a disadvantage: feed till you be as fat as I, and I'll fight with you, as I am a gentleman.
Hav. It shall not serve your turn.
Lod. Hold! murder! murder!
Raw. I'm dead, I'm dead.
Capt. L. Whoreson puff-paste, how he winks and barks! —
How now, gentlemen; master Lodam?
Lod. Captain, [you] should have come but a little sooner, and have seen good sport; by this flesh he came up handsomely to me, a pretty spark, faith, captain.
Hav. How, sir?
Lod. But if you be his friend, run for a surgeon for him, I have hurt him under the short ribs, beside a cut or two i' the shoulder. — Would I were in a miller's sack yonder, though I were ground for't, to be quit of them.
Hav. You will not use me thus?
Lod. I were best deliver my sword ere I be compell'd to it — a pretty fellow, and one that will make a soldier; because I see thou hast a spirit, and canst use thy weapon, I'll bestow a dull blade upon thee, squirrel.
Capt. L. Deliver up your weapon!
Lod. In love, in love, captain; he's a spark, on my reputation, and worthy your acquaintance.
Hav. Thou molly-puff! were it not justice to kick thy guts out?
Lod. When I am disarm'd?
Hav. Take it again, you sponge. —
Lod. What, when I have given it thee? 'tis at thy service, an it were a whole cutler's shop: be confident.
Raw. My ague has not left me yet; there's a grudging of the halter still.
Capt. L. Master Rawbone, I repent my opinion of your cowardice; I see you dare fight, and shall report it to my cousin: you shall walk home, (she'll take it as an honour,) and present your prisoner.
Raw. Jasper, let's go home and shift; do not go — honest Jasper.
Hav. You will be prattling, sirrah! — I'll wait upon you, captain. — Master Lodam —
Lod. I will accompany thee; thou art noble, and fit for my conversation; honest master Rawbone — a pox upon you!
Capt. L. Nay, you shall wait on your master, with his leave, good Jasper.
Hav. How now, Jasper?

SCENE IV

Beauford's Lodgings. — Cornets: a table set forth
with two tapers ; Servants placing yew, bays, and
rosemary, &c.

Enter BEAUFORD .

Beau. Are these the herbs you strew at funerals?
1 Ser. Yes, sir.
Beau. 'Tis well; I commend your care,
And thank ye; ye have express'd more duty
In not enquiring wherefore I command
This strange employment, than in the very
Act of your obedience: my chamber
Looks like the spring now: have ye not art enough
To make this yew tree grow here, or this bays,
The emblem of our victory in death?
But they present that best when they are wither'd:
Have you been careful that no day break in
At any window? I would dwell in night,
And have no other star-light but these tapers.
1 Ser. If any ask to speak with you,
Shall I say, you are abroad?
Beau. No;
To all [that] do enquire with busy face,
Pale, or disturb'd, give free accesss —
What do I differ from the dead? Would not
Some fearful man or woman, seeing me,
Call this a churchyard, and imagine me
Some wakeful apparition mong the graves;
That, for some treasures buried in my life,
Walk up and down thus? buried! no, 'twas drown'd;
I cannot therefore say, it was a chest;
Gratiana had ne'er a coffin, I have one
Spacious enough for both of us; but the waves
Will never yield to't, for, it may be, they,
Soon as the northern wind blows cold upon them,
Will freeze themselves to marble over her,
Lest she should want a tomb. —

Enter Park-Keeper.

Thy business.
Keep. He died this morning:
A friend of his and your's did practise on him
A little surgery, but in vain; his last
Breath did forgive you: but you must expect
No safety from the law — my service, sir.
Beau. I have left direction that it cannot miss me;
And, hadst thou come to apprehend me for't,
With as much ease thou might'st: I am no statesman;
Officious servants make no suitors wait;
My door's unguarded; 'tis no labyrinth
I dwell in; but I thank thy love, there's something
To reward it: [ gives him money. ] — justice cannot put on
A shape to fright me.
Keep. I am sorry, sir,
Your resolution carries so much danger.
Beau. What can life bring to me, that I should court it?
There is a period in nature; is it not
Better to die and not be sick; worn in
Our bodies, which, in imitation
Of ghosts, grow lean, as if they would at last
Be immaterial too; our bloods turn jelly,
And freeze in their cold channel; let me expire
While I have heat and strength to tug with death
For victory.

Enter MILLISCENT , behind, and Servants bearing a
chest .

Mil. You may disburden there;
But gently, 'tis a chest of value. — Mistress,
I'll give him notice. — Where is Beauford?
Beau. Here.
Mil. What place d'ye call this?
Beau. 'Tis a bridal chamber.
Mil. It presents horror.
Beau. Have you any thing
To say to me?
Mil. Yes.
Beau. Proceed.
Mil. I come to visit you.
Beau. You are not welcome, then.
Mil. I did suspect it, and have therefore brought
My assurance with me; I must require
Satisfaction for a kinsman's death,
One Marwood.
Beau. Ha!
Mil. Your valour was not noble;
It was a coarse reward to kill him for
His friendship: I come not with
A guard of officers to attach your person;
It were too poor and formal; the instrument
That sluiced his soul out, I had rather should
Sacrifice to his ashes, and my sword
Shall do't, or your's be guilty of another,
To wait upon his ghost.
Beau. Young man, be not
Too rash; without the knowledge how our quarrel
Rose, to procure thyself a danger.
Mil. Make
It not your fear; I have heard the perfect story,
And ere I fight with thee, shalt see thy error;
Acknowledge thou hast kill'd a friend: I bring
A perspective to make those things that lie
Remote from sense, familiar to thee; nay,
Thou shalt confess thou know'st the truth of what
Concerns him, or Gratiana.
Beau. When my soul
Throws off this upper garment, I shall know all.
Mil. Thou shalt not number many minutes; know,
'Twas my misfortune to close up the eyes
Of Marwood, whose body I vow'd never
Should to the earth without revenge, or me,
Companion to his grave; I have therefore brought it
Hither; 'tis in this house.
Beau. Ha!
Mil. His pale corpse
Shall witness my affection.
Beau. Thou didst promise
To inform me of Gratiana.
Mil. And thus briefly:
Marwood reveal'd at death another witness
Of his truth; for Cardona he corrupted
To betray Gratiana to him.
Beau. Ha! Cardona!
Heaven continue her among the living
But half an hour!
Mil. I have sav'd you trouble;
She waits without; in your name I procur'd
Her presence, as you had affairs with her:
She's unprepar'd, a little terror will
Enforce her to confess the truth of all things.
Beau. Thou dost direct well.
Mil. Still remember, Beauford,
I am thy enemy, and in this do but
Prepare thy conscience of misdeed to
Meet my just anger.
Beau. I am all wonder.

Re-enter MILLISCENT , with CARDONA .

Mil. He's now at opportunity.
Car. Sir, you sent
To speak with me.
Beau. Come nearer; I hear say
You are a bawd; tell me how go virgins
I' the sinful market? Nay, I must know, hell-cat;
What was the price you took for Gratiana:
Did Marwood come off roundly with his wages?
Tell me the truth, or by my father's soul,
I'll dig thy heart out.
Car. Help!
Beau. Let me not hear
A syllable that has not reference
To my question — or —
Car. I'll tell you, sir:
Marwood —
Beau. So.
Car. Did viciously affect her:
Won with his gifts and flatteries, I promis'd
My assistance; but I knew her virtue was not
To be corrupted in a thought.
Beau. Ha!
Car. Therefore — —
Beau. What? — d' ye study? —
Car. Hold — I would deliver
The rest into your ear, it is too shameful
To express it louder than a whisper.
Mil. With what unwillingness we discover things
We are asham'd to own! Cardona, should'st
Have us'd but half this fear in thy consent,
And thou hadst ne'er been guilty of a sin
Thou art so loth to part with, though it be
A burden to thy soul: how boldly would
Our innocence plead for us? but she has done.
Beau. Then was Gratiana's honour sav'd?
Car. Untouch'd.
Beau. Where am I lost? this story is more killing
Than all my jealousies: oh, Cardona!
Go safe from hence; but when thou com'st at home,
Lock thyself up, and languish till thou die.
Thou shalt meet Marwood in a gloomy shade;
Give back his salary.
Mil. Have I made good
My promise? do you find your error?
Beau. No: I have found my horror — has the chaste
And innocent Gratiana drown'd herself?
What satisfaction can I pay thy ghost?
Mil. Now do me right, sir.
Beau. She's gone for ever;
And can the earth still dwell a quiet neighbour
To the rough sea, and not itself be thaw'd
Into a river? let it melt to waves
From henceforth, that, beside th' inhabitants,
The very Genius of the world may drown,
And not accuse me for her. — Oh, Gratiana!
Mil. Reserve your passion, and remember what
I come for.
Beau. How shall I punish my unjust suspicion?
Death is too poor a thing to suffer for her:
Some spirit guide me where her body lies
Within her watery urn, although seal'd up
With frost; my tears are warm, and can dissolve it,
To let in me and my repentance to her:
I would kiss her cold face into life again,
Renew her breath with mine, on her pale lip;
I do not think, but if some artery
Of mine were open'd, and the crimson flood
Convey'd into her veins, it would agree;
And with a gentle gliding, steal itself
Into her heart, enliven her dead faculties,
And with a flattery 'tice her soul again
To dwell in her fair tenement.
Mil. You lose
Yourself in these wild fancies; recollect,
And do me justice.
Beau. I am lost, indeed,
With fruitless passion: I remember thee
And thy design again; I must account
For Marwood's death, is't not? Alas! thou art
Too young, and canst not fight; I wish thou wert
A man of tough and active sinews, for
Thy own revenge sake; I would praise thee for
My death, so I might fall but nobly by thee:
For I am burden'd with a weight of life —
Stay, didst not tell me thou hadst brought hither
The body of young Marwood?
Mil. Yes.
Beau. Since a mistake, not malice, did procure
His ill fate, I will but drop one funeral
Tear upon his wound, and soon finish
To do thee right.
Mil. You shall.
Beau. Does this inclose his corpse? How little room
Do we take up in death, that, living, know
No bounds? Here, without murmuring, we can
Be circumscrib'd; it is the soul that makes us
Affect such wanton and irregular paths;
When that's gone, we are quiet as the earth,
And think no more of wandering. — Oh, Marwood!
Forgive my anger; thy confession did
Invite thy ruin from me, yet upon — —
Memory forsake me, 'tis Gratiana's spirit! —
Hast thou left thy heavenly dwelling
To call me hence? I was now coming to thee;
Or but command more haste, and I will count it
No sin to strike myself, and in the stream
Of my own blood to imitate how thou
Didst drown thyself.
Gra. I am living, Beauford.
Beau. I know thou art immortal.
Gra. Living as thou art.
Beau. Good angels, do not mock mortality.
Gra. I came —
Beau. To call me to my answer how I durst
Suspect thy chastity; I'll accuse myself,
And to thy injur'd innocence give me up
A willing sacrifice.
Gra. Oh, my Beauford! now
I am over-blest for my late sufferings;
I have solicited my death with prayers;
Now I would live to see my Beauford love me.
It was thy friend induced me to that letter,
To find if thy suspicion had destroy'd
All seeds of love.
Beau. Art thou not dead indeed?
May I believe? her hand is warm — she breathes
Again — and kisses as she wont to do
Her Beauford; — art [thou] Gratiana? Heaven
Let me dwell here, until my soul exhale.
Mil. One sorrow's cur'd; [now] Milliscent, be gone,
Thou hast been too long absent from thy own.
Beau. Oh, my joy-ravish'd soul! — but where's the youth
Brought me this blessing? vanish'd, Gratiana?
Where is he? I would hang about his neck
To kiss his cheek; he will not leave me so:
Gone? sure it was some angel, was he not,
Or do I dream this happiness? Wilt not thou
Forsake me too?
Gra. Oh, never.
Beau. Within, there! —
Bid the young man return, and quickly, lest
My joy, above the strength of nature's sufferance,
Kill me before I can express my gratitude:
Have ye brought him?

Enter Officers.

1 Offi. Master Beauford, I am sorry we are commanded to apprehend your person.
Gra. Officers! ha!
1 Offi. You are suspected to have slain a gentleman, one Marwood.
Beau. Have I still my essence; ha?
I had a joy was able to make man
Forget he could be miserable.
2 Offi. Come, sir.
Beau. If e'er extremities did kill, we both
Shall die this very minute.
Gra. You shall not go.
1 Offi. Our authority will force him.
Gra. You're villains, murderers:
Oh, my Beauford!
Beau. Leave me, Gratiana.
Gra. Never; I'll die with thee.
Beau. What can we say unto our misery?
Sav'd in a tempest, that did threaten most,
Arriv'd the harbour, ship and all are lost!
Offi. To the next justice.