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But yet, poor Claudio!there's no remedy.

Come, Sir.

SCENE

VI.

[Exeunt.

Serv.

H

Changes to Angleo's Houfe.

Enter Provoft, and a Servant.

E's hearing of a caufe; he will come straight:
I'll tell him of you.

Prov. Pray you do; I'll know

His pleafure; 't may be, he'll relent.
He hath but as offended in a dream :

Alas!

All fects, all ages fmack of this vice; and he
To die for it!

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 rafh.

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.

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 access 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.

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Ang. Well, let her be admitted.

See you, the fornicatrels be remov'd;

[Exit Servant.

Let her have needful, but not lavifh, means;

There fhall be order for it.

SCENE E VII.

Enter Lucio and Ifabella.

Prov. 'Save your honour.

Ang. Stay yet a while. *[To Ifab.] Y'are welcome; what's your will?

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

Ang. Well, what's your fuit?

Ifab. There is a vice that most I do abhor,
And most defire should meet the blow of justice;
For which I would not plead, but that I muft:
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.

Ang. Well, the matter?

Ifcb. I have a brother is condemn'd to die: I do befeech you, let it be his fault,

And not my brother.

Prov. Heav'n give thee moving graces!

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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 the record,
And let go by the actor,

Ifab. O juft, but fevere law!

I had a brother then;-heav'n keep your Honour!

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Yet and that are almost undistinguishable in a manufcript.

Lucio. [To Ifab.] 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 defire 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,

If fo your heart were touch'd with that remorse,

As mine is to him?

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

Lucio. You are too cold.

[To Ifabel.

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 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 ftern.
Ang. Pray you, be gone.

Ifab. I would 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. [afide.] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,

And you but waste your words.

Ifab. Alas! alas!

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Why, all the fouls that were, 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, fhould
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 kinfman, brother, or my fon,

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It fhould be thus with him - he dies to-morrow. 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 With lefs refpect than we do minifter

To our grofs feives? good, good my lord, bethink

you:

Who is it, that hath dy'd for this offence?

There's many have committed it.

Lucic. "Ay, well faid.

[Afide.

Ang. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath flept:

Tho'e many had not dar'd to do that evil,

If the first man, that did th'

Had antwer'd for his deed.

edict infringe,

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,

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-

8

all the fouls that WERE.] that you will appear as amiable as man come fresh out of the hands of WARBURTON.

This is tarfe divinity. We should read. ARE. WARBURTIN. 7 And mercy then will breathe

within your lips,

Like man now made] This is a fine thought, and finely exprefed: The meaning is, that mercy will add fuch grace to your perfons

his creator.

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Like a prophet,

Looks in a glass.] This allunes to the fopperies of the Berril, much ufed at that time by cheats and fortune-tellers to predict by.

WARBURTON.

And

And fo in progress to be hatch'd and born,
Are now to have no fucceffive degrees;
But ere they live to end.

Ifab. Yet fhew fome pity. '

Ang. I fhew it most of all, when I fhew juftice; 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 fatisfy'd;

Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Ifab. So you must be the first, 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

[Afide.

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 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,

Molt ignorant of what he's most affur'd,
His glaffy effence, like an angry ape,

Plays fuch fantastick tricks before high heav'n,
As makes the angels weep;

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who, with our fpleens,

myself fwayed to mercy, let me remember, that there is a mercy likewife due to the Country.

As makes the angels weep ;] The notion of angels weeping for the fins of men is rabbinical. Ob peccatum flentes angelos inducunt Hebræorum magiftri.Grotius ad Lucam.

WARBURTON.

Would

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