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Ang. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your foul,
Were equal poize of fin and charity.

Ifab. That I do beg his life, if it be fin,
Heav'n, let me bear it! you, granting my fuit,
If that be fin, I'll make it my morn-pray'r
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answer.

Ang. Nay, but here me:

Your fenfe purfues not mine: either, you're ignorant; Or feem fo, craftily; and that's not good.

Ifab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus wifdom wishes to appear moft bright, When it doth tax itself: as thefe black masks, Proclaim an en-fhield beauty ten times louder, Than beauty could display'd. But mark me, To be received plain, I'll speak more gross; Your brother is to die.

Ifab. So.

Ang. And his offence is fo, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain. Ifab. True.

Ang. Admit no other way to fave his life. (As I fubfcribe not that, nor any other,

But in the lofs of queftion,) that you his fifter,
Finding yourself defir'd of such a perfon,
Whofe credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-holding law; and that there were
No earthly mean to fave him, but that either.
You muft lay down the treasures of your body
To this fuppos'd, 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,
And ftrip myself to death, as to a bed

That

That longing I've been fick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to fhame.

Ang. Then muft your brother die.
Ifab. And 'twere the cheaper way;
Better it were, a brother dy'd at once;
Than that a fister, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the fentence, That you have flander'd so?

Ifab. As ignominious ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houfes; lawful mercy, fure,

Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

Ang. You feem'd of late to make the law a tyrant, And rather prov'd the fliding of your brother A merriment, than a vice,

Ifab. Oh pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
To have what we would have, we speak not what we
I fomething do excufe the thing I hate,

For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.

Ifab. Elfe let my brother die.
If not a feodary, but only he,
Owe, and fucceed by weakness!
Ang. Nay, women are frail too.

[mean:

Ifab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves; Which are as eafy broke, as they make forms. Women! help heav'n; men their creation mar, In profiting by them: nay, call us ten times frail; 1 Elfe let my brother die.

$6

If not a feodary, but only he, &c.] This is fo obfcure, but the Allufion fo fine, that it deferves to be explain'd. A Feodary was one, that in the Times of Vaffalage held Lands of the chief Lord, under the Tenure of paying Rent and Service: Which Tenures were call'd Feuda amongst the Goths. Now, fays Angelo, "we are all frail; yes, replies Ijabella; if all Mankind were not Feodaries, who owe what they are to this Tenure of Imbecillity, and who fucceed each other "by the fame Tenure, as well as my Brother, I would give him up." The comparing Mankind, lying under the Weight of original Sin, to a Feodary, who owes Suit and Service to his Lord, is, I think, not ill imagined.

..

For

For we are foft as our complexions are, *And credulous to false prints.

Ang. I think it well;

And from this teftimony of your own fex,
(Since I fuppofe we're made to be no stronger,
Than faults may shake our frames) let me be bold;
I do arreft your words: be That you are,
That is, a women; if you're more, you're none.
If you be one, as you are well exprefs'd

By all external warrants, fhew it now,
By putting on the deftin'd livery.

Ijab. I have no tongue but one; gentle, my lord, Let me intreat you, † speak the formal language. Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

Ifab. My brother did love Juliet;

And you tell me, that he fhall die for it.

Ang. He fhall not, Ifabel, if you give me love. Ifab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is,

To pluck on others.

Ang. Believe me, on mine honour, My words exprefs my purpose.

Ifab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, And most pernicious purpose! feeming, feeming!I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:

Sign me a prefent pardon for my brother,

Or, with an out-ftretch'd throat, I'll tell the world Aloud, what man thou art.

Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel?

My unfoil'd name, th' auftereness of my life,

My vouch against you, and my place i'th' state,
Will fo your accufation over-weigh,

That you fhall ftifle in your own report,
And fmell of calumny. I have begun ;
And now I give my fenfual race the rein.

And credulous to falfe prints.] i. e. take any Impreffion.
Speak the former language.] We fhould read formal which

he here ufes for plain, direct.

Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes,
That banish what they fue for; redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will:

Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindnefs fhall his death draw out.
To ling'ring fufferance. Anfwer me to-morrow;
Or by th' affection that now guides me most,
As for you,

I'll

prove a tyrant to him.
Say what you can; my falfe o'erweighs your true. [Ex.
Ifab. To whom should I complain? did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O moft perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-fame tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof;

Bidding the law make curtly to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to th` appetite,
To follow, as it draws. I'll to my brother.
Tho' he hath fall'n by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him fuch a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up;
Before his fifter fhould her body stoop

To fuch abhorr'd pollution.

Then, Isabel, live chafte; and, brother, die;
More than our brother is our chastity.

I'll tell him yet of Angelo's requeft;

And fit his mind to death, for his foul's Reft. [Exit.

ACT

III.

SCENE I.

The PRISON.

Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost.

So, then,

DUKE.

of plave no other medicine,

you hope of pardon from lord Angelo?

But only Hope: I've hope to live, and am prepar'd

to die.

Duke. Be abfolute for death: or death, or life,

Shall thereby be the fweeter. Reafon thus with life; If I do lofe thee, I do lofe a thing,

That none but fools would reck; a breath thou art,
Servile to all the skiey influences,

That do this habitation, where thou keep'st,
Hourly afflict; merely thou art Death's Fool;
For him thou labour'ft by thy flight to shun,
And yet
runn'ft tow'rd him ftill. Thou art not noble;
For all th' accommodations, that thou bear'st,
Are nurs'd by baseness: thou'rt by no means valiant;
For thou doft fear the foft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of Rest is fleep,
And that thou oft provok'ft; yet grofly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou`rt not thyself;
For thou exift'ft on many a thousand grains,
That iffue out of duft. Happy thou art not;
For what thou haft not, ftill thou ftriv'ft to get;
And what thou haft forget'ft. Thou art not certain;
For thy complexion fhifts to ftrange 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 unloadeth thee. Friend thou haft none;
For thy own bowels, which do call thee Sire,
The mere effufion of thy proper loins,
Do curfe the Gout, Serpigo, and the Rheum,

For ending thee no fooner. Thou haft nor youth, nor
But as it were an after-dinner's fleep,

[age; Dreaming on both; for pall'd, thy blazed youth Becomes affuaged, and doth beg the alms

Of palfied Eld; and when thou'rt old and rich, Thou haft neither heat, affection, limb, nor bounty

--heat, affection, limb, nor beauty] But how does Beauty make Riches pleafant? We fhould read Bounty, which completes the Sense, and is this; Thou haft neither the Pleasure of enjoying Riches thyself, for thou wanteft Vigour: Nor of feeing it enjoyed by others, for thou wanteft Bounty. Where the making the Want of Bounty as infeparable from old Age as the Want of Health, is extremely fatirical tho not altogether juft.

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