Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

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 rash.
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.

[ocr errors]

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 accefs to you.

Ang. Hath he a fifter?

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

If not already.

Ang. Well; let her be admitted.

See you, the fornicatrefs be remov'd;

[Exit Servant.

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

Prov.

[ocr errors]

SCEN
NE VII.

Enter Lucio and Isabella.

AVE your honour.

Avg. Stay yet a while. Y'are welcome; what's your will?

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

Ang.

Ang. Well; what's your fuit?.

Ifab. There is a vice that most I do abhor,
And moft defire fhould meet the blow of juftice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must 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 fevere 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 desire it.
To him, I fay.

Ifab. Muft he needs die?

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, 57

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

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

Lucio. You are too cold.

[merged small][ocr errors]

A

Ifab. Too late? why, no; I, that do fpeak 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 so good a grace, i
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 ftern.
Ang. Pray you, be gone.

Ifab. I wou'd to heav'n I had your potency,"
And you were Ifabel; fhould 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 wafte
your words..

Ifab. Alas! alas!

Why, 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,
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 kinsman, brother, or my fon,"
It fhould be thus with him; he dies to-morrow.

A

14.

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 ferve heav'n

*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 PerJon, that you will appear as amiable as Man come fresh out of the Hands of

his Creator.

With lefs refpect, than we do minister

[you:

To our grofs felves? good, good my lord, bethink Who is it, that hath dy'd for this offence?

There's many hath committed it.

Lucio. Ay, well faid.

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

[flept:

If the first man that did th' edict infringe,
Had answered for his deed. Now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glafs that fhews what future evils,
Or new, or by remiffness new-conceiv'd,
And fo in progrefs to be hatch'd and born,
Are now to have no fucceffive degrees;
But ere they live, to end.

Ifab. Yet fhew some pity..

Ang. I fhew it most 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 assur'd,

[blocks in formation]

His glaffy effence, like an angry ape,

Plays fuch fantastic tricks before high heav'n,
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lucio. Oh, to him, to him, Wench: he will relent; He's coming: I perceive't.

Prov. Pray heav'n, fhe win him!

Ifab. We cannot weigh our brother with yourself : Great men may jeft with Saints; 'tis wit in them ; But, in the lefs, foul prophanation.

Lucio. Thou'rt right, girl; more o' that.
Ifab. That in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy.

Lucio. Art avis'd o'that? more on't.

Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me? Ifab. Becaufe authority, tho' it érr like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That ĺkins the vice o'th'top: go to your bofom ; Knock there, and ask your heart, what it doth know That's like my brother's fault; if it confefs

A natural guiltinefs, fuch as is his,

Let it not found a thought upon your tongue
Against my brother's life.

Ang. She fpeaks, and 'tis such sense,

That my fenfe bleeds with it.. Fare you well.
Ifab. Gentle, my lord, turn back.

Ang. I will bethink me; come again to-morrow. Ifab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back.

Ang. How? bribe me?

Ifab. Ay, with fuch gifts, that heav'n fhall fhare with you.

Lucio. You had marr'd all else.

Ifab. Not with fond fhekles of the tested gold,
Or ftones, whose rate are either rich, or poor,
As fancy values them; but with true prayers,
That shall be up at heav'n, and enter there,
Ere fun-rife: prayers from preferved fouls,

From

« ПредишнаНапред »