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

Enter Provost, and a Servant.

[Exeunt

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

Prov. Pray you, do; I'll know

His pleasure; 't may be, he'll relent; alas!

He hath but as offended in a dream:

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

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter, Provoft?

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 spar'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 accefs to you.

Ang. Hath he a fifter?

Prov. Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid,

And to be fhortly of a fifter-hood,

If not already.

See

Ang. Well; let her be admitted.

you, the fornicatrefs be remov'd;

[Exit Servant,

Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;

There fhall be order for it.

Enter Lucio and Ifabella.

Prov. 'Save

your honour.

Ang. Stay yet a while.

your will?

Y'are welcome; what's

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 juftice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I muft not plead, but that I am
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.

Ang. Well; the matter?

Ifab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die ;
I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.

Prov. Heav'n give thee moving graces!

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 record,
And let go by the actor.

Ifab. O juft, but fevere law!

I had a brother then ;-heav'n keep your Honour!
Lucio. Give not o'er fo: to him again, intreat him,
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
You are too cold; if you should need a pin,

You could not with more tame a tongue defire it.
To him, I fay.

Jab. 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.

Ifab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,
May call it back again: Well believe this, (7)
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 stern.
Ang. Pray you, be gone.

Ifab. I wou'd 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. 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 cnc?;
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, should
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,
It should be thus with him; he dies to-morrow.

(7) Well, believe this,] This manner of Pointing, which runs thro' all the Copies, gives an Air of Address too familiar for an Inferior to use to a Perfon of Diftin&tion. But taking away the Comma after, Well, not only removes the Objection, but reftores a Mode of Expreffion, which our Author delights to ufe. Well believe this; i, e. Be convinc'd, be throughly affur'd of this,

P 5

Ijab

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 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 said.

Ang. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath flept: Thole many had not dar'd to do that evil,

If the firft man, that did th' edi& infringe,
Had answer'd for his deed. Now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass that shews 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 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

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet;
For every pelting, petty, officer

Would ufe 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,

Dre

Dreft in a little brief authority,

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

Plays fuch fantastick tricks before high heav'n,
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
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, she win him!

Ifab. We cannot weigh our brother with yourfelf: (8) Great men may jeft with Saints; '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 avis'd o' that? more on't.

Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me? Ifab. Becaufe authority, tho' it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That fkins the vice o' th' top: go to your

bofom ;

Knock there, and afk you heart, what it doth know
'That's like my brother's fault; if it confess
A natural guiltiness, such as is his,

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.

(8) We cannot weigh our Brother with ourself.] Why not? Tho' this fhould 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 Comparifon, or Equality, together: but her Brother's Crimes would be aggravated, Angelo's Frailties extenuated, from the Difference of their Degrees and State of Life, Mr, Warburton.

Ang