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The gen’ral subjects to a well-wisht King
Quit their own part, and in obfequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence. How now, fair maid?

Enter Isabella
Isab. I am come to know your pleasure.
Ang. That you might know it,' would much better

pleafe me, Than to demand, what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.

Isab. Ev'n fo!-Heav'n keep your Honour! [Going

Ang. Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be,
As long as you or I; yet he must die.

Isab. Under your sentence?
Ang. Yea.

I ab. When, I beseech you?', that in his reprieve,
Longer or horter, he may be so fitted,
That his soul ficken not.

Aing. Hai ly, these filthy vices ! 'twere as good
To pardon him, that hath from nature stoi'n
A man already made, as to remit
Their fawcy (weetness, that do coin heav'n's image
In itamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy,
Falsely to take away a life true made ;
As to pat metal in restrained means,
To inake a false one.

llab. 'Tis set down fo in heav'n, but not in earth.

Ang. And say you so ? then I Thall poze vou quickly, Which had you rather, that the noit juft law No:v took your brother's life; or, 10 redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanneis, As me, that he hath ftain'd?

llab. Sir, believe this,' I had rather give my body than my soul.

Ang. I talk not of your soul; cur compellid fins Stand more for number than accompt.

Ijab. How fay you?

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that ; for I can speak Against the thing I say. 'Answer to this:

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I, now the voice of the recorded law,
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:
Mighe there not be a charity in fin,
Tu tave this brother's life

lieb. Please you to do't,
I'll take it as a peril to my soul,
It is no sin at all, but charity.

Ing. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your soul,
Were equal poize of fin and charity.

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be fin,
Heav'n, let me bear it! you, granting my fuit,
If that be fin, l'll make it my morn-pray'r
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your anfwer.' .1,

Ang. Nay, but hear me ;
Your sense pursues not mine : either, you're ignorantz
Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good.

Ijab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus wisdom withes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself: as thefe black masques Proclaim an en-fhield beauty ten times louder, Than beauty could display'd. Bat mark me, To be received plain, I'll speak more grofs ;' Your brother is to die.

Tab. Son

Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain,

Ijab. True.

Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
But in the loss of question) that you his fifter,
Finding yourself defir'd of such a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch


brother from the manacles Of the all-holding law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You muft lay down the treasures of your body To this suppos’d, or else to let him suffer; What would you do?



chief Lord, under the tenure of paying rent and reminds of the

Peb. As much for' my poor brother, as myself;
That is, were I under the terms of death,
Th'impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I've been fick for, ere. I'd yield:
My body up to shame.

Ang. Then must your brother die..

Ijab. And 'twere the cheaper way; Better it were, a broiber dy'd at once ; Than that a fifter, by redeeming him, Should die for evera

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
That you have slander'd lo

Isab. An ignominious ransom, and free pardon,
Are of two houses; lawful mercy, fure,
Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law, a tyrant,
And rather prov'd the fliding of your brother
A merriment, than a vice.

Isab. Oh pardon me, my Lord ; it oft falls out,
To have what we would have, we speak not what we means
I something do excuse the thing I hate, ...
For his advantage that I dearly love.

Ang. We are all frail.
Isab. Elle let my brother die, (13)
If not a feodary, but only he,
Owe, and succeed by weakness!
(13) Eye let my brother d'e,

'If not a feodary, but only be, &c.) This is fo- obfcure a pale farge, but so fine in its application, that it deserves to be explan'da A feodary was one, that in the times of vafalage, held

which tenures were callid ferda amongst the Gorbs. This being premised, let us come to a paraphrare of our Author's words. We are all frail, says Argelo; yeś, réplies Isabella; if all mankind were not feod.iries, who owe what they have to this tenure of imbecillitys 65 and who succeed each other by the faine tenure, as well as my u brother, I would give him up.' And the comparing mankind, (who, according to some Divines, lie under the weight of origin it fin.) to a feudary, who owrs fuit and ferrvice to his Lords is, I think, que of the most beautiful allufions imaginable,

Mr. Warburtor...


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Ang. Nay, women are frail too.

Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke, as they make forms,
Women! help heav'n ; men their creation mar,
In profiting by them : nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are foft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints.

Ang. I think it well;
And from this testimony of your own sex,
(Since, I suppose, we're made to be no stronger,
Than faults may shake our frames) let me be bold':
I do arrest your words : be that you aré,
That is, a woman; if you're more, you're none.

you be one, as you are well exprefs'd By all external warrants, shew it now, By putting on the destin'd livery.

Ijab. I have no tongue but one; gentle my Lord, Let me intreat you, speak the former language.

Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

Ijab. My brother did love Juliet ; And you

toll me, that lie Mall die for it,
Aing. He shall not, Ijubel, if you give me love.

Ifab. I know, your virtue hach a licence in't,
Which feems a little fouler than it is,
To pluck on others.

Ang. Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my parpore,

Tjab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And moit pernicious purpose ! seeming, seeming!
I will proclaim thee, Angrlo ; look for't :
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an out-strech'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unfoil'd name, th'austereness of my life,
My vouch againit you, and my place i'th' State,
Will fo your accusation over-weigh,
That you shall fife in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun;
And now I give my sensual race the rein.


Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes,
That banith what they sue for: redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will:
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness thall his death draw out
To ling’ring sufferance. Answer me to-morrow;
Or by th’affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
Say what you can; my false o’erweighs your true.

Isab. To whom should I complain? did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O most perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-fame tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof;
Bidding the law make curtsy to their will ;
Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite,
To follow, as it draws. I'll to my brother.
Tho' he hath fall’n by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up;
Before his fifter Mould her body stoop
To fuch abhorr'd pollution.
Then, Isabel, live, chaste; and, brother, die;
More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request;
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. (Exit


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