Isab. Which is the least? Clau. If it were damnable, he, being so wise, Why, would he for a momentary trick Be perdurably fin'd ?-O Isabel !3 Isab. What says my brother? Clau. Death is a fearful thing. Clau. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; This sensible warm motion to become The weariest and most loathed worldly life, To what we fear of death.* Isab. Alas! alas! Clau. Sweet sister, let me live: Isab. O, you beast! 1 Covetousness, Gluttony, and Lechery. To recapitulate the punishments hereafter for these sins, might have too powerful an effect upon the weak nerves of the present generation; but whoever is desirous of being particularly acquainted with them, may find information in some of the old monkish systems of divinity, and especially in a curious book entitled Le Kalendrier des Bergiers, 1500, folio, of which there is an English translation. DOUCE. [2] Perdurably is lastingly. STEEVENS. [3] Shakespeare shows his knowledge of human nature in the conduct of Claudio. When Isabella first tells him of Angelo's proposal, he answers, with honest indigna tion, agreeably to his settled principles, Thou shalt not do't. But the love of life being permitted to operate, soon furnishes him with sophistical arguments; he be lieves it cannot be very dangerous to the soul, since Angelo, who is so wise, will venture it. JOHNSON. [4] Most certainly the idea of the "spirit bathing in fiery floods," or of residing "in thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice," is not original to our poes; but I am not sure that they came from the Platonic hell of Virgil. The monks also had their hot and cold hell; "the fyrste is fyre that ever brenneth, and never gyveth lighte," says an old homily:-"The seconde is passying cold, that yf a greate hylle of fyre were cast therin, it shold torne to yce." One of their legends, well remembered in the time of Shakespeare, gives us a dialogue between a bishop and a soul tormented in a piece of ice, which was brought to cure a brenning heate in his foot; take eare, that you do not interpret this the gout, for I remember Menage quotes a ca non upon us : "Si quis dixerit episcopum podagra laborare, anathema sit." FARMER. O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch! From thine own sister's shame? What should I think? Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance : Clau. Nay, hear me, Isabel. Isab. O, fye, fye, fye! Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade : Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: 'Tis best that thou diest quickly. Clau. O hear me, Isabella. Re-enter Duke. [Going Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. Isab. What is your will? Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own benefit. Isab. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay, must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you a while. Duke. [To CLAUDIO, aside.] Son, I have overheard what hath past between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practice his judgment with the disposition of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive: I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death; Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: to-morrow you must die; go to your knees, and make ready. Clau. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it. Duke. Hold you there: Farewell. Re-enter Provost. Provost, a word with you. Prov. What's your will, father? [Exit CLAV [5] Wilderness is here used for wildness, the state of being disorderly. STE. Duke That now you are come, you will be gone :Leave me a while with the maid; my mind promises with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my company. Prov. In good time. : [Exit Prov. Duke. The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good the goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body of it ever fair. The assault, that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How would you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother? Isab. I am now going to resolve him : I had rather my brother die by the law, than my son should be unlawfully born. But O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. Duke. That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made trial of you only.-Therefore, fasten your ear on my advisings; to the love I have in doing good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe, that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person; and much please the absent duke, if, peradventure, he shall ever return to have hearing of this business. do Isab. Let me hear you speak further; I have spirit to any thing that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea? Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. Duke. Her should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his sister. But : mark, how heavily this befel to the poor gentlewoman there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry ; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. Isab. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? Duke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending, in her, discoveries of dishonour in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not. Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live!-But how out of this can she avail ? Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. Isab. Show me how, good father. Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point: only refer yourself to this advantage,-first that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience: this being granted in course, now follows all. We shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it? Isab. The image of it gives me content already; and, I. trust, it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. Duke. It lies much in your holding up: Haste you speedily to Angelo; if for this night he entreat you to [6] To scale the deputy, may be, to reach him notwithstanding the elevation of his place; or, it may be, to strip him and discover his nakedness, though armed and concealed by the investment of authority. JOHNSON. his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to St. Luke's; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana: at that place call upon me; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. Isab. I thank you for this comfort: Fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally. SCENE II. The Street before the Prison. Enter Duke, as a friar ; to him ELBOW, Clown, and Officers. Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard. Duke. O, heavens! what stuff is here? Clown. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. Elb. Come your way, sir :-Bless you, good father friar. Duke. And you, good brother father: What offence hath this man made you, sir? Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we have sent to the deputy. Duke. Fye, sirrah; a bawd, a wicked bawd! That is thy means to live: Do thou but think So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend. Clown. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove Duke. Nay, if the devil hath given thee proofs for sin, Thou wilt prove his.-Take him to prison, officer; [7] A grange, in its original signification, meant a farm-house of a monastery (from grana gerendo) from which it was always at some little distance. In Lincolnshire they at this day call every lone house that is unconnected with others, a grange. MALONE. do. [8] Bastard, a kind of sweet wine, then much in vogue, from the Italian bastar WARBURTON. |