Now, as fond fathers, Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their children's sight For terror, not to use, in time the rod Becomes more mocked than feared; so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead; And liberty plucks justice by the nose; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum. Measure for Measure , 1. 3 We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch and not their terror. Measure for Measure , 2. 1 Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Measure for Measure, 2. 2 No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. Measure for Measure, 2. 2 The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept. Measure for Measure, 2. 2 O, it is excellent To