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And try your penitence, if it be found,
Or hollowly put on.

Juliet. I'll gladly learn.
Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you?
Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.

Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful A&
Was mutually committed.

Juliet. Mutually.
Duke. Then was your fin of heavier kind than his.
Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father.

Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter ; but repent you not,
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame?
Which forrow's always tow'rds ourselves, not heaven;
Shewing, we'd not seek heaven, as we love it,
But as we stand in fear.

Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil;
And take the shame with joy.

Duke. There reft.
Your partner, as I hear, muft die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him ;
So, grace go with you! benedicite.

Juliet. Muft die to-morrow! oh, injurious love,
That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!
Prov. 'Tis pity of him.



SCENE changes to the Palace.

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Ang. WHE

Enter Angelo
WHEN I would pray and think, I think and

To sev'ral subjects: heav'n hath my empty words,
Whilft my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel. Heav'n's in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew its name;
And in my heart the itrong and swelling evil
Of my conception : the state, whereon I studied,
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. Oh place! oh form !
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wifer souls
To thy false seeming? blood, thou art but blood :
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn;
'Tis not the devil's creft.

Enter Servant.
How now, who's there?

Serv. One Isabel, a fifter, desires access to you.

Ang. Teach her the way. Oh heav'ns !
Why does my blood thus mufter to my heart,
Making both That unable for itfelf,
And difpoffeffing all my other parts
Of necessary fitness!
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to help him, and fo stop the air
By which he hould revive : and even so
The gen’ral subjects to a well-wisht King
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Croud to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence. How now, fair maid ;

Enter Isabella.
Isab. I am come to know your pleasure.
Ang. That you might know it, would much better

please me, Than to de d, what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.

Isab. Ev’n so ?-Heav'n keep your Honour ! [Going. Anġ. Yet may he live a while; and, it


be, As long as you or I; yet he must die. Ijab. Under


fentence ifab. When, I beseech you ? that in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he may be fo fitted, That his soul ficken not.

Ang. Ha? fie, these filthy vices ! 'twere as good To pardon him, that hath from nature ftolin

Ang. Yea.

A man

A man already made, as to remit
Their faucy sweetness, that do coin heav'n's image
In Itamps that are forbid : 'tis all as easy,
Falsely to take away a life true made;
As to put metal in reftrained means,
To make a false one.

Ijab. 'Tis set down fo in heav'n, but not in earth.

Ang. And say you so ? then I shall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, that the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
Give up your body to such fweet uncleanness,
As she, that he hath-stain'd?

Isab. Sir, believe this,
I had rather give my body than my soul.

Ang. I talk not of your soul; our compelld fins
Stand more for number than accompt.

Isab. How say you ?

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Against the thing I say. Answer to this:
I, now the voice of the recorded law,
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life;
Might there not be a charity in fin,
To save this brother's life?

Isab. Please you to do't,
I'll take it as a peril to my soul,
It is no fin at all, but charity.

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

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

Ang. Nay, but here me :
Your sense pursues not mine : either, you're ignorant;
Or seem so, Craftly; and that's not good.

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

Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself; as these black maks


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Proclaim an en-shield 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.

Jab. So.
Ang. And his offence is so, as it

appears the law


that pain.
Hab. True.

Aing. Admit no other way to save his life,
(As i subscribe not that, nor any oiher,
But in the loss of question,) that you his sister,
Finding yourself desir’d of such a person,
Whose 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 save him, but that either
You must lay down the treasures of your body
To this suppos’d, or else to let him suffer ;
What would


Jab. As much for my poor brother, as myself;
That is, were I under the terms of death,
Th'impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I've been lick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.

Ang. Then must your brother die.

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

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence,

have slander'd fo?
Isab. An ignominious ransom, and free pardon,
Are of two houses ; lawful mercy, sure,
Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

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

Isab. Oh pardon me, my lord ; it oft falls out,
To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean:

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1 something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love.

Ang. We are all frail.

Ijab. Else let my brother die, (9)
If not a feodary, but only be,
Owe, and fucceed by weakness !

Ang. Nay, women are frail too.
Ifab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke, as they make forms.
Women ! help heav'n; men their creation mar,
In profiting by them : nay, call us ten times frail ;
For we are soft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints.

Ang. I think it well;
And from this testimony of your own sex,
(Since, I suppose, we're made to be no ftronger,
Than faults may shake our frames) let me be bold :
I do arrest your words: be that you are,
That is, a woman ; if you're more, you're none.
If you be one, as you are well express'd
By all external warrants, shew it now,
By putting on the destin'd livery.

isab. I have no tongue but one; gentle, my lord, Let me intreat you, speak the former language.

Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

(9) Else let my Brother die,

If not a Feodary, but only He, &c.] This is so obscure a Passage, but so fine in its Application, that it deserves to be explained. A Feodary was one, that, in the Times of Vassalage, held Lands of the chief Lord, under the Tenure of paying Rent and Service; which Tenures were called Feuda amongst the Gotbs. This being premised, let us come to a Paraphrase of our Author's Words.

“ We are all frail, fays Argelo ; yes, replies Isabella ; if all Mankind were not Feodaries, who owe what they have

to this Tenure of Imbecility, and who succeed each other by “ the same Tenure, as well as my Brother, I would give him

up." And the comparing Mankind, (who, according to some Divines, lie under the Weight of Original Sin) to a Feodary, who owes Suit and Service to his Lord, is, I think, one of the most beautiful Allusions imaginable.

Mr. Warburton.


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