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SCENE, a Grange.
Enter Mariana, and Boy finging.

AKE, oh, take those lips away, (21)

That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,

Lights that do mis-lead the morn;
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain.

Enter Duke.
Mari. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away :
Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice
Hath often stillid my brawling discontent.
I cry you mercy, Sir, and well could with,
You had not found me here so musical :
Let me excuse me, and believe me so,
My mirth it much displeas’d, but pleas'd my woe.

Duke. 'Tis good; tho' music oft hath such a charm To make bad, good; and good provoke to harm.

(21) Take, oh, take those lips away,] This song, which, no doubt, was a great favourite in its time, is inserted in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bloody Brother, with this additional stanza.

Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow,

Which thy frozen besoin bears ;
On whose tops the pinks, t at grow,

Are of those that April wears,
But my poor heart first set free,

Bound in those icy chains by thee. With this addition likewise it is printed in the volume of Shakea Speare's poems. The reason, of this second ftanza being omitted here,, is obvious. Mariana has the song sung, applicable to her love for Ange'o, and his perjury to her: and the addicion cata only sort, when address'd from a lover to his mistress. VOL. I.


I pray

even noi.


pray you, tell me, hath any body enquir'd for me here today? much upon this time, have I promis'd here to meet.

Mari. You have not been enquir'd after: I have sate here all day,

Enter Isabel, Dirke. I do constantly believe you :-the time is come,

I shall crave your forbearance a little ; may be, I will call upon you anon for some advantage to yourself. Mari. I am always bound to you.

[Exit. Duke. Very well met, and well come: What is the news from this good Deputy?

Ifeb. He hath a garden circuinmur'd with brick,
Whose western side is with a vineyard backt;
And to that vineyard is a planched gate,
That makes his opening with this bigger key:
This other doth command a little door,
Which from the vineyard to the garden leads';
There, on the heavy middle of the night,
Have I my promise made to call upon him.

Duke. But all you on your knowledge find this way?

Isab. I've ta’n a due and wary note upon't;
With whisp'ring and most guilty diligence,
In action all of precept, he did show me
The way twice o'er.

Duke. Are there no other tokens
Between you ’greed, concerning her observance ?

Ilab. No: none, but only a repair i'th' dark;
And that I have pofseft him, my most stay
Can be but brief; for I have made him know,
I have a servant comes with me along,
That stays upon me; whose persuasion is,
I come about


brother. Duke. 'Tis well born up. I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this. What, hoa ! within! come forth!

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Enter Mariana.
I pray you, be acquainted with this maid;
She comes to do you good.

Isab. I do defire the like.
Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you?
Mari. Good Friar, I know you do; and I have found it.

Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand,
Who hath a story ready for your ear :
I shall attend your leisure; but make hafte;
The vaporous night approaches.
Mari. Wilt please you walk aside?

[Exeunt Mar, and Isab.
Duke. Oh place and greatness ! millions of false eyes
Are stuck upon thee : volumes of report
Run with these false and most contrarious quests
Upon thy doings: thousand 'scapes of wit
Make thee the father of their idle dreams,
And rack thee in their fancies ! Welcome; how agreed !

Re-enter Mariana, and Isabel.
Ifab. She'll take the enterprize upon her, father,

advise it.
Duke. 'Tis not my consent,
But my intreaty too.

Ijab. Little have you to say, When you depart from him, but soft and low, 66 Remember now my

brother." Mari, Fear me not.

Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all: He is your husband on a pre-contract ; To bring you thus together, 'tis no fin : Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go ; Our corn’s to reap; for yet our tilth’s to fow. (22) (Exe.

(22) - for yet our tythe's to fow.] It must be tiltb; that is, our tillage is yet to be made; our grain is yet to be put in the ground; The project, from which we expect to profit in the issue, is still to be put in hand.


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SCENE changes to the Prison.

Enter Provost and Clown. Prov. . HOME hither, firrah : can you cut off a man's

head? Clorun. If the man be a batchelor, Sir, I can : but if he be a marry'd man, he is his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head.

Prov. Come, Sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine : here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a heiper ; if you will take it on you to affist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves : if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping; for you have been a notorious bawd.

Clown. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, time out of mind, but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman: I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow-partner. Prov. What hoa, Abhorfon! where's Abhorfon, there!

Enter Abhorson.
Abbor. Do you call, Sir?

Prov. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution ; if you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you ; if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him. He cannot plead his eftimation with you, he hath been a bawd.

Abhor. A bawd, Sir ? fy upon him, he will discredit our mystery.

Prov. Go to, Sir, you weigh equally ; a feather will turn the scale.

[Exit. Ciawn. Pray, Sir, by your good favour; (for, furely, Sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look ;) do you call, Sir, your occupation a mystery?

Shhora Abbor. Ay, Sir; a mystery.

Clown. Painting, Sir, I have heard fwy, is a mystery ; and your whores, Sir, being inembers of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery: but what mystery there hould be in hanging, if I should be hang’d, I cannot imagine.

Abbor. Sir, it is a mystery.
Clorun. Proof.

Abhor. (22) Every true man's apparel fits your thief, Clown: if it be too little for your true man, your thief thinks it big enough.

If it be too big for your true man, your thief thinks it litile enough ; so every true man's apparel fits your


Re-enter Provost. Prov. Are you agreed?

Clown, Sir, I will serve him: for I do find, your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftaer ask forgiveness.

Prov. You, firrah, provide your block and your ax to-morrow, four o'clock.

Abhor. Come on, bawd, I will instruct thee in my trade; follow.

Clown. I do desire to learn, Sir; and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you (24)


(23) Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. Clown. If it be too little for your ibief, your true man thinks it

big enough. If it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it liitle

enough: So every true man's apparel fits your thief ] This is a very notable passage, as it stands in all the editions; but, I dare say, is notably corrupted ; and both the speeches, and the words, shuffled and misplaced. What! does the Cicwn ask proof, how the hangman’s irade is a mystery ; and, so soon as ever Abborson advances bis Thesis to prove it, the Clown takes the argument out of his mouth, and perverts the very tenour of it? I am satisfied, the Poe: intended a regular fyllogism; and I submit it to judgment, whether my regularion has not restor'd that wit, and humour which was quite lost in the depravation.

(24) You shall find me yours; I This reading, I believe, was first Mr. Rowe's; and consequently adopted by the last Editor. The old


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