But yet, poor Claudio! there's no remedy.

Come, Sir.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

VI.

Enter Provoft, and a Servant.

Serv. He's hearing of a caufe; he will come ftraight:

I'll tell him of you.

Prov. Pray you, do; I'll know

His pleasure; 't may be, he'll relent; alas!
He hath but as offended in a dream :

All fects, all ages fmack of this vice; and he
To die for it!

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter, Provost? Prov. Is it your will, Claudio fhall die to morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee, yea? hadft thou not order? Why doft thou ask again?

Prov. Left I might be too rafh. Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom.

Ang. Go to; let that be mine,

Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you fhall well be fpar'd.

Prov. I crave your pardon.

What shall be done, Sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour.

Ang. Difpofe of her

To fome more fitting place, and that with speed.
Serv. Here is the fifter of the man condemn'd,
Defires access to you.

Ang. Hath he a fifter?

Prov. Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid, And to be fhortly of a fifter-hood,

If not already.

Ang.

Ang. Well, let her be admitted.

See you, the fornicatress be remov'd;

[Exit Servant.

Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;
There fhall be order for it.

your will?

Ifab. I am a woful fuitor to your Honour, Please but your Honour hear me.

Ang. Well, what's your fuit?

Ifab. There is a vice that most I do abhor,
And most defire should meet the blow of juftice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I muft not plead, but that I am
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.

Ang. Well, the matter?

Ifab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die; I do beseech you, let it be his fault,

And not my brother.

Prov. Heav'n give thee moving graces!

Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done; Mine were the very cipher of a function,

To find the faults, whofe fine ftands in record,
And let go by the actor.

Ifab. O juft, but severe law!

I had a brother then;-heav'n keep your Honour!
Lucio. Give not o'er fo: to him again, intreat him,
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
You are too cold; if you fhould need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue defire it.
To him, I fay.

Ifab. Muft he needs die?

Ang

Ang. Maiden, no remedy.

Ifab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon

him;

And neither heav'n, nor man, grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do't.

Ifab. But can you, if you would?

Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.
Ifab. But might you do't, and do the world no
wrong,

If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse,
As mine is to him?

Ang. He's fentenc'd; 'tis too late.

Lucio. You are too cold.

Ifab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back again: Well believe this, "No ceremony that to Great ones 'longs, "Not the King's crown, nor the deputed fword, "The marshal'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 so stern. Ang. Pray you, be gone.

Ifab. I wou'd to heav'n I had your potency,
And you were Isabel; should it then be thus?
No;
I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,

And what a prifoner.

Lucio. Ay, touch him; there's the vein.
Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,

And you but waste

Ifab. Alas! alas!

your

words.

"Why, 3 all the fouls that are, were forfeit once: "And he, that might the 'vantage beft have took, "Found out the remedy. How would you

be,

3-all the fouls that WERE,] This is falfe divinity. We Thould read ARE.

"If he, which is the top of judgment, should
"But judge you, as you are? oh, think on that;
"And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
"Like man new made.

Ang. Be you content, fair maid;

It is the law, not I, condemns your brother.
Were he my kinfman, brother, or my fon,
It should be thus with him; he dies to-morrow.
Ifab. To-morrow, Oh! that's fudden. Spare him,
fpare him.

He's not prepar'd for death: Even for our kitchins
We kill the fowl, of feafon; fhall we serve heav'n
With lefs refpect, than we do minifter

[you:

To our grofs felves? good, good my lord, bethink
Who is it, that hath dy'd for this offence?
There's many have committed it.

Lucio. Ay, well faid.

Ang. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath slept: Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,

If the first man that did th' edict infringe,

Had anfwer'd for his deed. Now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass that fhews what future evils,
Or new, or by remifsnefs new-conceiv'd,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,
Are now to have no fucceffive degrees;
(a) But ere they live, to end.

4 And mercy then will breathe within your lips,

Like man new made.] This is a fine thought, and finely expreffed: The meaning is, that mercy will add fuch grace to your perfon, that you will appear as amiable as man come fre out of the hands of his creator.

5

like a prophet,

Looks in a glafs] This alludes to the fopperies of the Berril, much used at that time by cheats and fortune-tellers to predict by.

[(a) But ere they live, Oxford Edit. Vulg. But bere they live.]

Ifab. Yet fhew some pity.

"Ang. I fhew it moft of all, when I fhew juftice; "For then I pity those, I do not know;

"Which a difmifs'd offence would after gaul; And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be fatisfy'd ;

Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Ifab. So you must be the firft, that gives this fen

tence;

And he, that fuffers: oh, 'tis excellent

To have a giant's ftrength; but it is tyrannous,
To use it like a giant.

Lucio. That's well faid.

Ifab. Could great men thunder

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet;
For every pelting, petty, officer

Would ufe his heav'n for thunder;

Nothing but thunder: merciful heav'n!

Thou rather with thy fharp, and fulph'rous, bolt
Split'ft the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the foft myrtle: O, but man! proud 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 fantastick tricks before high heav'n,
"As makes the angels weep; 7 who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lucio.

6 As makes the angels weep; ] The notion of angels weeping

for the fins of men is rabbinical.

gelos inducunt Hebræorum magiftri.

7 = who, with our fpleens,

Ob peccatum fentes an-
Grotius ad Lucam.

Would all themselves laugh mortal.] Mr. Theobald fays the meaning of this is, that if they were endowed with our spleens and perishable organs, they would laugh themselves out of immorgtality: Which amounts to this, that if they were mortal they would not be immortal. Shakespear meant no fuch nonfenfe. By Spleens, he meant that peculiar turn of the human mind, that always violently inclines it to a fpiteful, unfeasonable mirth. Had

VOL. I.

the