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: Prov. Pray you do; I'll know His pleafure; 't may be, he'll relent. Alas! All fects, all ages fmack of this vice; and he 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, Ang. Go to; let that be mine. Do you your office, or give up your place, 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. 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. 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, 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! 5 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, Ifab. O juft, but fevere law! I had a brother then;-heav'n keep your Honour! 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, 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. 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, Ifab. I would to heav'n I had your potency, 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! Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once; Ang. Be you content, fair maid. It is the law, not I, condemns your brother. 6 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, 6 - 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. 8 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, 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; 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, Lucio. That's well faid. Ifab. Could great men thunder [Afide. As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet; Would use his heav'n for thunder; Nothing but thunder. --Merciful heav'n! Thou rather with thy fharp, and fulph'rous, bolt Than the foft myrtle: O, but man, proud man, Molt ignorant of what he's most affur'd, Plays fuch fantastick tricks before high heav'n, 2 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 |