The nature of their crimes, that I may
To them accordingly.

minister

Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful. Enter JULIET.

Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flames of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: She is with child
And he that got it, sentenc'd: a young man
More fit to do another such offence,
Than die for this.

Duke. When must he die ?

Prov. As I do think, to-morrow.

I have provided for you; stay a while,
And you shall be conducted.

[To JULIET.

Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?
Juliet. I do; and bear the shame most patiently.

Duke. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience,

And try your penitence, if it be sound,

Or hollowly put on.

Juliet. I'll gladly learn.

Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you?

Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him. Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act Was mutually committed?

Juliet. Mutually.

Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.
Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father.

Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter: But lest you do repent,
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,—
Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven;
Showing, we'd not spare heaven, as we love it,

But as we stand in fear,—

Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil;

And take the shame with joy.

Duke. There rest.

Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,

And I am going with instruction to him.

Grace go with you ! Benedicite!

Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love,

That respites me a life, whose very comfort

Is still a dying horror!

Prov 'Tis pity of him.

[Exit.

[Exeunt

SCENE IV.

A Room in ANGELO's House. Enter ANGELO.

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words;
Whilst my intention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name ;

And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception: The state, whereon I studied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form!
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood :
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,
'Tis not the devil's crest.

Enter Servant.

How now, who's there?

Serv. One Isabel, a sister,

Desires access to you.

Ang. Teach her the way.

O heavens !

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart;
Making both it unable for itself,

And dispossessing all the other parts

Of necessary fitness?

[Ex. Serv.

So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air

By which he should revive and even so

:

The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.'

[1] Here Shakespeare judiciously distinguishes the different operations of high place upon different minds. Fools are frighted, and wise men are allured. Those who cannot judge but by the eye, are easily awed by splendour; those who consider men as well as conditions, are easily persuaded to love the appearance of virtue dignified with power. JOHNSON.

[2] So the Duke had before (act i. sc. 2.) expressed his dislike to popular ap plause. I cannot help thinking that Shakespeare, in these two passages, intended to flatter that unkingly weakness of James I. which made him so impatient of the crowds that flocked to see him, especially upon his first coming, that, as some of our historians say, he restrained them by proclamation. TYRWHIT.

How now, fair maid?

Enter ISABElla.

Isab. 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.
Isab. Even so?-Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring.
Ang. Yet
he live a while; and, it may be,

may

As long as you, or I: Yet he must die.

Isab. Under your sentence?

Ang. Yea.

Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted,

That his soul sicken not.

Ang. Ha! Fye, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen

A man already made, as to remit

Their sawcy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image,
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy

Falsely to take away a life true made,

As to put mettle in restrained means,

To make a false one.

Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
Ang. Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, That the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness,
As she that he hath stain'd?

Isab. Sir, believe this,

I had rather give my body than my soul.

Ang. I talk not of your soul; Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than accompt.

Isab. How say you?

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Against the thing I say. Answer to this ;-
I, now the voice of the recorded law,
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:
Might there not be a charity in sin,
To save this brother's life?

Isab. Please you to do't,

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

Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul,

Were equal poize of sin and charity.

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer

To have it added to the faults of mine,

And nothing of your, answer.

Ang. Nay, but hear me :

Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant ; Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good.

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

Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright,
When it doth tax itself: as these black masks
Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder
Than beauty could displayed.-But mark me ;
To be received plain, I'll speak more gross:
Your brother is to die.

Isab. So.

Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears
Accountant to the law. upon that pain.
Isab. 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 sister,
Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-binding law; and that there were
No earthly mean to save him, but that either
You must lay down the treasures of your body
To this supposed, or else let him suffer;
What would you do ?

Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself:
That is, Were I under the terms of death,

The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed

That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.

Ang. Then must your brother die.
Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way;

[3] The reasoning is thus: Angelo asks, Whether there might not be a charity in sin to save this brother? Isabella answers, That if Angelo will save him, she will stake her soul that it were charity, not sin. Angelo replies, That if Isabella would save him at the hazard of her soul, it would be not indeed no sin, but a sin to which the charity would be equivalent. JOHNS.

Better it were, a brother died at once,
Than that a sister, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.

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

Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses: lawful mercy is

Nothing akin to foul redemption.

Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant ; And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother

A merriment than a vice.

Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean 1 something do excuse the thing I hate,

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

Isab. Else let my brother die,
If not a feodary," but only he,
Owe, and succeed by weakness."

*

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 heaven! men their creation mar

In profiting by them."

Nay, call us ten times frail,

For we are as soft 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 are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames) let me be bold ;

I do arrest your words: Be that you are,

That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none :
If you be one, (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants,) show it now,

Ignomy-So the word ignominy was formerly written. REED.

This is so obscure, but the allusion so fine, that it deserves to be explained. A feodary was one that in the times of vassalage held lands of the chief lord, under the tenure of paying rent and service: which tenures were called feuda amongst the Goths. Now,' says Angelo, we are all frail;' Yes,' replies Isabella, if all mankind were not feodaries, who owe what they are to this tenure of imbecility, and who succeed each other by the same tenure, as well as my brother, I would give him up.' The comparing mankind, lying under the weight of original sin, to a feodary, who owes suit and service to his lord, is, I think, not ill imagined. JOHNSON. [6] To owe is, in this place, to own, to hold, to have possession. JOHNSON [7] Her meaning is, that men debase their nature by taking advantage of such weak pitiful creatures."-Edin. Mag. Nov. 1806. STEEVENS.