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When the will play with reafon and discourse, And well the can perfuade.

Retired Life.

My holy Sir, none better knows than you How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd; And held in idle price to haunt affemblies Where youth, and coft, and witlefs bravery keeps. Licentioufnefs the Confequence of unexecuted Laws. We have ftrict ftatutes, and moft biting laws, (The needful bits and curbs to headstrong feeds) Which for thefe nineteen years we have let fleep; Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave, That goes not out to prey: now, as fond fathers, Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their children's fight For terror, not for ufe; in time the rod [crees, Becomes more mock'd than fear'd: fo our deDead to infliction, to themselves are dead; And liberty plucks justice by the nose; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum.

Pardon the Sanation of Wickedness. For we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their permiffive pass, And not the punishment.

A fevere faint-like Governor.

Lord Angelo is precife; Stands at a guard with envy: fcarce confeiles That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than ftone: hence fhall we fee, If pow'r change purpofe, what our feemers be. A Virgin addreft.

Hail, virgin, if you be; as thofe check-rofes Proclaim you are no lefs!

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Efca. Ay, but yet

Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,
Than fall, and bruife to death: alas, this gen-
tleman,

Whom I would fave, had a moft noble father.
Let but your honour know,
(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue)
That, in the working of your own affections,
Had time coher'd with place, or place with wifh-
Or that the refolute acting of your blood [ing;
Could have attain'd th' effect of your own purpose,
Whether you had not fome time in your life
Err'd in this point, which now you cenfure him,
And pull'd the law upon you.

Angelo. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, Another thing to fall. I not deny,

The jury, paffing on the pris'ner's life,
May in the fworn twelve have a thief or two
Guiltier than him they try; what's open made
To juftice, that juftice feizes. What know the laws
That thieves do pafs on thieves? 'Tis very preg-

nant,

The jewel that we find, we stoop, and take it,
Becaufe we fee it; but what we do not fee
We tread upon, and never think of it.
You may not fo extenuate his offence,
For I have had fuch faults: but rather tell me,
When I that cenfure him do fo offend,
Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,
And nothing come in partial.

Mercy frequently miflaken,
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks fo;
Pardon is ftill the nurfe of fecond woe.

Not to be too bafty in Actions irremediable, Under your good correction, I have feen When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom.

Bad Actions already condemned, the Actors to be punished.

Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Why, every fault 's condemn'd, ere it be done : Mine were the very cypher of a function, To fine the faults whofe fine ftands in record, And let go by the actor.

Mercy in Governors recommended. No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed fword, The martial's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half fo good a grace As mercy does. If he had been as you, And you as he, you would have flipt like him; But he, like you, would not have been fo ftern. The Duty of mutual Forgiveness.

Alas! alas!

Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once. And he, that might the 'vantage beft have took, Found

Found out the remedy. How would you be,
If he, which is the top of judgment, fhould
But judge you as you are? Oh' think on that ;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

Unprepared Death.

fab. To-morrow! O, that's fudden! fpare him, fpare him:

He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of feafon; thall we ferve Heaven With lefs refpect than we do minifter

To our grofs felves? Good, good my lord, bethink you:

Who is it that hath dy'd for this offence?
-There's many have committed it.

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Ifab. Hark how I'll bribe you! Good my Lord, Ang. How! bribe me? [turn back. fab. Not with fond fhekels of the tested gold, Or ftones whofe rate is either rich or poor As fancy values them; but with true prayers, That shall be up at heaven and enter there Ere the fun rife: prayers from preferved fouls, From fafting maids whofe minds are dedicate

Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it To nothing temporal.

hath flept;

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Thou rather with thy fharp and fulphurous bolt
Split'ft the unwedgable and gnarled oak,
Than the foft myrtle. O, but man! p.oud man,
Dreft in a little brief authority,

Moft ignorant of what he 's most affur'd,
His glaffy effence-like an angry ape,
Plays fuch fantaftic tricks before high Heav'n,
As makes the angels weep; who, with our fpleens,
Would all themfelves laugh mortal.

The Privilege of Authority.

We cannot weigh our brother with ourself. Great men may jeft with faints; 'tis wit in them; But, in the lefs, foul profanation.

That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy. Confcioufnels of our own Faults bould make us merciful.

Ang. Why do you put thefe fayings upon me? 5. Becaufe authority, though it err like Hath vet a kind of medicine in itself, [others, That skims the voice o' the top: go to your bolom :

The Power of virtuous Beauty. Ifab. Save your honour! [Exit Ifab. Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue!What's this? What's this? Is this her fault, or

mine?

The tempter, or the tempted, who fins most ? ha!
Not fhe; nor doth fhe tempt; but it is I,
That, lying by the violet, in the fun,
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flow'r,
Corrupt with virtuous feafon. Can it be,
That modefty may more betray our fenfe
Than woman's lightnefs? Having wafte ground
Shall we defire to rate the fanctuary, [enough,
And pitch our evils there? Oh, fic, fie, fie!
What doit thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
Doit thou defire her foully, for thofe things
That make her good Oh, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority,
When judges fiteal themiclves. What! do I love
That I de fire to hear her fpeak again,
And feaft upon her eyes? What is 't I dream on?
[her,
Oh cunning enemy, that, to catch a faint,
With faints doft bait thy hook! Moft dangerous
Is that temptation, that does goad us on
Fo fiu in loving virtue: ne'er could the ftrumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once ftir my temper: but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite.-

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Jul. I do repent me as it is an evil; And take the shame with joy. Duke. There rest.

pray

Love in a grave, fevere Governor.
When I would pray and think, I think and
To fevral fubjects: Heaven hath my empty words;
Whilft my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Ifabel. Heav'n's in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name;
And in my heart the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception: the ftate, whereon I ftudied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume
Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form!
How often doft thou with thy cafe, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wifer fouls
To thy falfe fecming! Blood, thou still art blood!
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn;-
'Tis not the devil's creit.

A Simile on the Prefence of the beloved Object.
-O Heavens !

Why does my blood thus mufter to my heart,
Making both it unable for itself,
And difpoffeffing all my other parts
Of neceffary fitnefs?

So play the foolish throngs with one that fwoons;
Come all to help him, and thus ftop the air
By which he fhould revive and even fo
The gen'ral, fubject to a well-wish'd king,
Quit their own part, and in obfequious fondness
Crowd to his prefence, where their untaught love
Muft needs appear
offence.

Fornication and Murder equalled.

Fie, thefe filthy vices!-It were as good
To pardon him that hath from nature stol'n
A man already made, as to remit

Their faucy fwcetnefs, that do coin Heaven's image
In ftamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy
Falfely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in reftrained means,
To make a falfe one.

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To this fuppofed, or elfe to let him suffer;
What would you do?

Ifab. As much for my poor brother as myself;
That is, were I under the terms of death,
Th' impreffion of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
That longing I have been fick for, ere I'd yield
And strip myself to death as to a bed
My body up to fhame.

Ang. Then muft your brother die. Ifab. And 't were the cheaper way: Better it were a brother died at once, Than that a fifter, by redeeming him, Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the fenThat you have flander'd fo?

[tence Ifab. An ignominious ranfom, and free pardon, Are of two houfes; lawful mercy, fure, Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

Self-intereft palliates Faults. It oft falls out, Iube [we mean : To have what we would have, we speak not what I fomething do excufe the thing I nate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Woman's Frailty.

Ang.

-Nay, women are frail too.

Ijab. Ay, as the glaffes where they view them

felves;

Which are as eafy broke as they make forms.
Women! help Heaven! men their creation mar,
In profiting by them: nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are foft as our complexions are,
And credulous to falfe prints.

Weight of established Reputation.

Ang. Who will believe thee, Ifabel?
My unfoil'd name, th' aufterenefs of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
Will fo your accufation overweigh,

That you shall ftifle in your own report,
And Imell of calumny.

Hope.

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And what thou haft, forgett'st. Thou art not certain;
For thy complexion fhifts to strange effects,
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou 'rt poor;
For, like an afs, whofe back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'ft thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee. Friend thou haft none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee fire,
The mere effufion of thy proper loins,
Do curfe the gout, ferpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no fooner. Thou haft nor youth
But as it were an after-dinner's fleep, [nor age,
Dreaming on both; for all thy bleffed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palfied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou haft neither heat, affection, limb nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleafant. What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes thefe odds all even.

The Terrors of Death moft in Apprehenfion.
Claud. Is there no remedy?

Tab. None but fuch remedy as, to fave a head, Would cleave a heart in twain.

Claud. But is there any?

Ifab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Left thou a fev'rous life fhouldft entertain,
And fix or feven winters more respect
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ?
The fenfe of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle that we tread upon,
In corp'ral fufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

Refolution from a Senfe of Honour.
Claud. Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a refolution fetch
From flow'ry tenderness? If I muft die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in my arms!

Tab. There fpake my brother; there my fa[ther's grave

Did utter forth a voice.

A fainted Hypocrite.

Yes, thou muft die: Thou art too noble to conferve a life In bafe appliances. This outward-fainted deWhofe fettled vifage and delib'rate word [puty, Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth emmew As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil; His filth within being caft, he would appear A pond as deep as hell.

Claud. The princely Angelo?

Ifab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'ft body to invest and cover
In princely guards!

The Terrors of Death.
lab. O, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin!

Claud. Ah, Ifabel!

Jab. What fays my brother?
Claud. -Death's a fearful thing.

Ifab. And fhamed life a hateful.
Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not
To lie in cold obftruction, and to rot; [where;

This fenfible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted fpirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to refide
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprifon'd in the viewlefs winds,
And blown with reftlefs violence round about
The pendant world; or to be worfe than worst
Of thole, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling! 'tis too horrible!
The wearieft and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, imprisonment,
Can lay on nature, is a paradife
To what we fear of death.

Cowardly Apprehenfion of Death reproached.
Ifab. O, faithlefs coward! O, difhoneft wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
Is 't not a kind of inceft, to take life [think?
From thine own fifter's fhame? What should I
Heaven grant my mother play'd my father fair!
For fuch a warped flip of wilderness

Ne'er iffued from his blood-Take my defianceDie, perish! might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceedOh, fie, fie, fie!

Thy fin's not accidental, but a trade; Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd; 'Twere beft thou dieft quickly!

Virtue and Goodness.

Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
A Bard.

Fie, firrah! a bawd-a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou caufeft to be done,

That is thy means to live. Doft thou but think
What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back,
From fuch a filthy vice? Say to thy felf,
From their abominable and beastly touches
drink, I eat, array myfelf, and live.-
Canft thou believe thy living is a life
So ftinkingly depending? Go, mend; go, mend!
Calumny unavoidable.

I

No might nor greatnefs in mortality
Can cenfure 'fcape: back-wounding calumny
The whiteft virtue ftrikes. What king fo ftrong,
Can tie the gall up in the fland'rous tongue ?

Good Example necessary in Rulers.
He, who the fword of Heav'n will bear,
Should be as holy as fevere;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to ftand, and virtue go;
More nor lefs to others paying,
Than by felf-offences weighing:
Shame to him, whose cruel striking
Kills for faults of his own liking!
Twice treble fhame on Angelo,
To weed my vice, and let his grow!
O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward fide i
How may likeness made in crimes,
Mocking practice on the times,

Το

To draw with idle fpiders' ftrings,
Moft pond'rous and fubftantial things!
A beautiful Song.

Take, oh take thofe lips away,
That fo fweetly were forfworn;
And thofe eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kiffes bring again;
Seals of love, but feal'd in vain.
Hide, oh hide thofe hills of fnow,
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whofe tops the pinks that grow
Are of those that April wears;
But my poor heart first fet free,
Bound in thofe icy chains by thee.
Guilty Diligence.

With whispering and moft guilty diligence,
In action all of precept, he did fhew me
The way twice o'er.

Greatness fubje&t to Cenfure.

O place and greatnefs! millions of falfe eyes
Are tuck upon thee; volumes of report
Run with these falfe and moft contrarious quefts
Upon thy doings: thoufand 'fcapes of wit
Make thee the father of their idle dream,
And rack thee in their fancies.

Execution finely expreffed.

By eight to-morrow

Thou must be made immortal!

Sound Sleep.

As faft lock'd up in fleep, as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones. Upright Governor fuppofed.

Prov. It is a bitter deputy.

Duke. Not fo, not fo; his life is parallel'd
Even with the ftroke and line of his great juftice;
He doth with holy abftinence fubdue
That in himself, which he fpurs on his power
To qualify in others: were he meal'd
With that which he corrects, then were he
But this being fo, he 's juít.

Good Failor

This is a gentle prevoft; feldom, when The ftecled jailor is the friend of men. Comfort from Despair.

As Angelo; even fo may Angelo,

In all his dreffings, characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch villain: trust me, royal prince,
If he be lefs, he's nothing, but he's more,
Had I more names for badnefs.

Refpe&t due to Place.

Refpect to your great place!-and let the devil Be fometimes honour'd for his burning throne. Impoffibility of Interceffion.

Against all fenfe you do importune her.
Should the kneel down, in mercy of this fact,
Her brother's ghoft his paved bed would break,
And take her hence in horror!

Reformed Men fometimes beft.
They fay, beft men are moulded out of faults;
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad; fo
may my husband.
Intents more excufable than A&s.
His act did not o'ertake his bad intent;
And must be buried but as an intent,
That perifh'd by the way thoughts are no fub-
Intents, but merely thoughts.
[jects}

§ 6. THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.
SHAKSPEARE.
Natural Prefentiment of Evil finely pointed out;
with the Contraft of a cheerful and melancholy
Man.

Ant. IN footh, I know not why I am so fad;
It wearies me: you fay, it wearies you:
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What ftuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn.

And fuch a want-wit fadnefs makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.

Salar. Your mind is toffing on the ocean,
There where your argofies with portly fail,
Like figniors and ricli burghers on the flood,
Or as it were the pageants of the sea,-
Do over-peer the petty-traffickers,
tyran-That curt fy to them, do them reverence,
[nous; As they fly by them with their woven wings.

But I will keep her ignorant of her good, To make her heavenly comforts of defpair, When it is leaft expected.

Complaining ufelefs.

Salun. Believe me,Sir, had I fuch ventures forth,
The better part of my affections would
Be with my hopes abroad. I fhould be ftill
Plucking the grafs, to know where fits the wind;
Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and roads;
And every object, that might make me fear
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt,
Would make me fad.

Salar. My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.

Ifab. Injurious world! Moft damned Angelo!
Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot:
Forbear it therefore, give your caufe to Heaven!1 fhould not fee the fandy hour-giafs run,

Character of an Arch Hypocrite.

O, I conjure thee, prince, as thou beliey'st
There is another comfort than this world,
That thou neglect me not, with th. t opinion
That I am touch'd with madne fs: mke not im-
poffible

That which but feems unlike: 'tis not impoffible
But one, the wickedeft cairiff on the ground,
May feem as fhy, as grave, as juft, as abfolute,

But I fhould think of fhallows and of flats;
And fce my wealthy Andrew dock'd in fand,
Vailing her high top lower than her ribs,
To ki's her burial. Should I go to church,
And fee the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which, touching but my gentle veffel's fide,
Would featter all her fpices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my filks;

And

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