May call it back again: Well believe this, (9)
No ceremony that to great ones long,

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; 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 waste your words.

Ijab. Alas! alas!

Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once;
And he, that might the 'vantage best have took,
Found out the remedy. How would you be,
If he, which is the top of judgment, fhould
But judge you, as you are? oh, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

(9) Well, believe this,] This manner of pointing, which runs thro all the copies, gives an air of addrefs too familiar for an inferior to "ufe to a perfon of diftinction. But taking away the comma after, well, not only removes the objection, but reftores a mode of expreffion, which our Author delights to use. Well believe this ; i, e. Be convinc'd, be thoroughly affured of this.

So, afterwards, in this Play, Angelo fays;

I think it well.

So, Gonzalo in the Tempeft.

I do well believe your Highness,

And fo in King John;

And well fhall you perceive

So one of the Gentlemen in the opening Scene of Cymbeline;

Ido well believe.

And fo Pifanio, in the fame Play;

&c. &c.

---You fhall be mifs'd at Court;
And that will well confirm it..

Ang.

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,
spare him.

He's not prepar'd for death: Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl, of feafon; fhall we ferve heav'n
With less respect, than we do minister

To our grofs felves? good, good, my Lord, bethink you:
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: Thofe 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 fo in progrefs to be hatch'd and born,
Are now to have no fucceffive degrees;
But here they live to end.

Ifab. Yet fhew fome pity.

Ang. I fhew it most of all, when I fhew justice; For then I pity thofe, I do not know;

Which a difmifs'd offence would after gaul;

And do him right, that, anfwering one foul wrong,

Lives not to act another. Be satisfy'd;

Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

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

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 use his heav'n for thunder;

Nothing but thunder: merciful heav'n!

Thou

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 fantaftick tricks before high heav'n,

As makes the angels weep; who with our fpleens, (10) 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: (11)
Great men may jeft with faints; '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 cholerick word
Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy.

Lucio. Art advis'd o' that? more on't.
Ang. Why do you put these fayings upon me?
Ifab. Becaufe authority, tho' it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That kins 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,

(10) As makes the angels weep; who, with our fpleens,

Would all themselves laugh mortal.] Men play fuch fantastick tricks, and appear fo ridiculous, as to make the angels weep in compaffion of our extravagance: who, if they were endued with our fpleens and perishable organs, would laugh themselves out of immor tality; or, as we fay in common life, laugh themselves dead. This notion of the Angels weeping for the fins of men is purely rabbinical. -Ob peccatum frentes angelos inducunt Hebræorum Magiftri.-Grotius ad S. Lucam, c. 15. v. 7.

(11) We cannot weigh our brother with ourself.] Why not? Tho' this should be the reading of all the copies, 'tis as plain as light, it is not the Author's meaning. Ifabella would fay, there is fo great a difproportion in quality betwixt Lord Angelo and her brother, that their actions can bear no comparison, or equality, together; but her brother's crimes would be aggravated, Angelo's frailties extenuated, from the difference of their degrees and ftate of life. Mr. Warburton.

Let

Let it not found a thought upon your tongue
Against my brother's life.
Ang. She fpeaks, and 'tis fuch fenfe,
That my fenfe breeds 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 share with you.

Lucio. You had marr'd all elfe.

Ifab. Not with fond shekels 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 preferv'd fouls,
From fafting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Ang. Well; come to-morrow.

Lucio. Go to; 'tis well; away.

Ifab. Heav'n keep your honour fafe!

Ang. Amen:

For I am that way going to temptation,

Where prayers crofs.

Ifab. At what hour to-morrow

Shall I attend your Lordship?

Ang. At any time 'fore-noon.

Ifab. Save your honour! [Exe. Lucio and Ifabella,
Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue.

What's this? what's this? is this her fault or mine?
The tempter, or the tempted, who fins moft?

Not the; nor doth fhe tempt; but it is I,

That, lying by the violet in the fun,
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous feafon. Can it be,
That modefty may more betray our fenfe,

Than woman's lightness? having wafte ground enough,
Shall we defire to raze the fanctuary,

And pitch our evils there? oh, fy, fy, fy!
What doft thou? or what art thou, Angelo?

Doft thou defire her foully, for those things
That make her good? Oh, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority,

When judges fteal themselves. What? do I love her,
That I defire to hear her speak again,

And feaft upon her eyes? what is't I dream on?
Oh, cunning enemy, that to catch a faint,
With faints doft bait thy hook! moft dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on
To fin in loving virtue: ne'er could the ftrumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once ftir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite: Ever 'till this very now,
When men were fond, I fmil'd and wonder'd how.

Duke.

SCENE changes to a Prifon.

[Exit.

Enter Duke habited like a Friar, and Provoft.
AIL to you, Provoft; fo, I think, you are.
Prov. I am the Provoft; what's your will,
good Friar?

H

Duke. Bound by my charity, and my blest order,
I come to visit the afflicted spirits

Here in the prifon; do me the common right
To let me fee them, and to make me know
The nature of their crimes; that I may minifter

To them accordingly.

Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful.

Enter Juliet.

Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flaws of her own youth, (12)

(12) Who falling in the flaws of her own youth,

Hath

Hath blifter'd her report.] As, blifter'd, follows in the fecond line, Mr. Warburton ingenioufly advifes to read flames in the firft. And it is the metaphor our Author elsewhere chooses to ufe. So Polonius in Hamlet.

I do know,

When the blood burns, how prodigal the foul

Lends the tongue vows. Thefe blaxes, oh, my daughter, &c.