Doft thou defire her foully, for thofe things What do I love her, That I defire to hear her speak again, And feaft upon her eyes? what is't I dream on? SCENE changes to a Prison. [Exit. Enter Duke habited like a Friar, and Provft. Duke. H Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bleft order, I come to vifit the afflicted fpirits Here in the prifon; do me the common right To let me fee them, and to make me know Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful. Enter Juliet. Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of m`ne, (12) Who falling in the flaws of her own youth, Hath Hath blifter'd ber report.] As, blifier d, follows in the second line, Mr. Warburton ingeniously advifes to read fames in the firft. And it is the metaphor our Author elsewhere choves to use. So Polenius in Hamlet. I do know, When the blood burns, how prodigal the foul And Hath blifter'd her report: he is with child; Than die for this. Duke. When 'must he die?. Prov. As I do think, to-morrow, I have provided for you; stay a while, [Fo Juliet. Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the fin you carry? Juliet. I do; and bear the fhame most patiently. Duke. I'll teach you, how you fall arraign your conscience, And try your penitence, if it be found, '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 fin of heavier kind than his. Fuliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father. Duke. 'Tis meet fo, daughter; but repent you not, As that the fin hath brought you to this fhame? Which forrow's always tow'rds ourselves, not heav'ns Showing we'd not feek heaven, as we love it, But as we ftand in fear. Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil; And take the fhame with joy. Duke. There reft. Your partner, as I hear, muft die to-morrow, And fo the Countefs, in All's Well that ends Well. Nat'ral rebellion, done i'th' blaze of youth, And fo Profpero, in The Tempeft; do not give dalliance Too much the rein; the ftrongest oaths are ftraw VOL. I. e So grace go with you; benedicite. Juliet. Muft die to-morrow! oh, injurious love, Prov. 'Tis pity of him. [Exit. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Palace. Ang. W 'Hen I would pray and think, I think and pray To fev'ral fubjects: heav'n hath my empty words, Whilft my invention, hearing not my tongue, And in my heart the ftrong and fwelling evil Enter Servant. How now, who's there? Serv. One Ifabel, a fifter, defires access to you. Oh heav'ns! Why does my blood thus mufter to my heart, And difpoffeffing all my other parts Of neceffary fitness? So play the foolish throngs with one that fwoons; By which he should revive: and even fo The The gen'ral subjects 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 Than to demand, what 'tis. Your brother cannot live. Ifab. Under your fentence? Ang. Yea. Lab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Ang. Ha? fy, thefe filthy vices! 'twere as good Their fawcy fweetness, that do coin heav'n's image As to put metal in restrained 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 moft juft law Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness, As fhe, that he hath ftain'd? Ijab. 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. Ifab. How fay you? Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing I fay. Anfwer to this: I, now the voice of the recorded law, Ifab. Please you to do't, Ang. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your foul, Ifab. That I do beg his life, if it be fin, Ang. Nay, but hear me: Your fenfe purfues not mine: either, you're ignorantz Or feem fo, 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 wifdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself: as these black mafques Proclaim an en-fhield beauty ten times louder, Than beauty could difplay'd. But mark me, 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 Ang. Admit no other way to fave his life, Ifab. |