The gen'ral fubjects to a well-wifht King

Quit their own part, and in obfequious fondness Crowd to his prefence, where their untaught love Muft needs appear offence. How now, fair maid? Enter Ifabella.

Ifab. I am come to know your pleasure.

Ang. That you might know it, would much better
please me,

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

Ifab. Under your fentence?

Ang. Yea.

Lab. When, I beseech you?. that in his reprieve,
Longer or fhorter, he may be fo fitted,
That his foul ficken not.

Ang. Ha fy, thefe filthy vices! 'twere as good
To pardon him, that hath from nature stol'n
A man already made, as to remit

Their fawcy fweetnefs, that do coin heav'n's image
In ftamps that are forbid: 'tis all as eafy,
Falfely to take away a life true made;

As to put metal in reftrained means,

To make a falfe one.

Ilab. 'Tis fet down fo in heav'n, but not in earth. Ang. And fay you fo? then I fhall poze you quickly Which had you rather, that the moit" juft law Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to fuch fweet uncleannels, As fhe, that he hath ftain'd ?

Ilab. Sir, believe this,

I had rather give my body than my foul.

Ang. I talk not of your foul; our compell'd fins Stand more for number than accompt.

Ijab. How fay you?

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak

Anfwer to this:

Against the thing I fay.

I, now the voice of the recorded law,

Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life::
Might there not be a charity in fin,
Totave this brother's life t

tab. Please you to do't,

I'll take it as a peril to my foul,
It is no fin at all, but charity.

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

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

Ang. Nay, but hear me;

།།

Your fenfe purfues not mine: either, you're ignorantz Or feem fo, craftily; and that's not good.

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

Ang. Thus wifdom wishes to appear moft bright, When it doth tax itself: as thefe black masques Proclaim an en-fhield beauty ten times louder, Than beauty could difplay'd. But mark me, and To be received plain, I'll speak more grofs ;

Your brother is to die.

Ifab. So

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

Ang. Admit no other way to fave his life,
As I fubfcribe not that, nor any other,
But in the lofs of queflion,) that you his fifter,
Finding yourself defir'd of fuch a person,
Whofe credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-holding law; and that there were
No earthly mean to fave him, but that either
You must lay down the treafures of your body
To this fuppos'd, or elfe to let him fuffer;
What would you do?

Ijab.

fab. As much for my poor brother, as myself;
That is, were I under the terms of death,
Th' impreffion of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And ftrip myself to death, as to a bed

That longing I've been fick før, ere I'd yield"
My body up to fhame.

r

Ang. Then must your brother die. Ijab. And 'twere the cheaper way; Better it were, a brother dy'd at once; Than that a fifter, by redeeming him, Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the fentence That you have flander'd fo A

Ifab. An ignominious ranfom, and free pardon, Are of two houfes; lawful mercy, fure,

Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

Ang. You feem'd of late to make the law a tyrant, 1 And rather prov'd the fliding of your brother

A merriment, than a vice.

Ifab. Oh pardon me, my Lord; it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean I fomething do excufe the thing I hate,

For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.

Ifab. Elfe let my brother die, (13)

If not a feodary, but only he,
Owe, and fucceed by weakness!

(13) Elfe let my brother d'e,

4 150.

If not a feodary, but only be, &c.] This is fo obfcure a paffage, but fo fine in its application, that it deferves to be explain'd. A feodary was one, that, in the times of vaffalage, held lands of the chief Lord, under the tenure of paying rent and fervice: which tenures were call'd feuda amongst the Gorbs. This being premised, let us come to a paraphrafe of our Author's words. We are all "frail, fays Argelo, yes, replies Ifabella; if all mankind were not feudaries, who owe what they have to this tenure of imbecillity and who fucceed each other by the fame tenure, as well as my brother, I would give him up." And the comparing mankind, (who, according to fome Divines, lie under the weight of origin fin.) to a feudary, who owes fuit and ferenice to his Lord, is, I think, que of the most beautiful allufions imaginable..

Q3.

Mr. Warburtors.
Ang

Ang. Nay, women are frail too.

Ijab. Ay, as the glaffes where they view themfelves; Which are as eafy 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 falfe prints.

Ang. I think it well;

And from this teftimony of your own fex,
(Since, I fuppofe, we're made to be no ftronger,
Than faults may fhake our frames) let me be bold:
I do arreft your words: be that you are,

That is, a woman; if you're more, you're none.
If you be one, as you are well exprefs'd
By all external warrants, fhew it now,
By putting on the deftin'd livery.

Ifab. I have no tongue but one; gentle my Lord,
Let me intreat you, fpeak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

Ifab. My brother did love Juliet;

And you tell me, that he fhall die for it,

Ag. He fhall not, Ijabel, if you give me love. Ifab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in't, Which feems a little fouler than it is,

To pluck on others.

Ang. Believe me, on mine honour,
My words exprefs my parpofe.

Ijab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And most pernicious purpofe! feeming, feeming !
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a prefent pardon for my brother,

Or, with an out-ftrech'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

Ang. Who will believe thee, Ifabel?
My unfoil'd name, th' aufterenefs of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' th' State,
Will fo your accufation over-weigh,
That you fhall ftifle in your own report,
And fmell of calumny. I have begun ;
And now I give my fenfual race the rein.

Fit thy confent to my fharp appetite,

Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes,

That banish what they fue for: redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will:

Or elfe he must not only die the death,

But thy unkindness fhall his death draw out
To ling'ring fufferance. Anfwer me to-morrow;
Or by th' affection that now guides me moft,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,

Say what you can; my falfe o'erweighs your true.

[Exit Ifab. To whom should I complain? did I tell this, Who would believe me? O moft perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the felf-fame tongue, Either of condemnation or approof;

Bidding the law make curtfy 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 fuch a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up;
Before his fifter fhould her body stoop
To fuch abhorr'd pollution.

Then, Ijabel, live, chafte; 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 foul's reft.

[Exit