תמונות בעמוד

Exter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.
Isab. I do, my Lord.

Duke. For this new-marry'd man, approaching here,
Whose falt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well-defended honour, you must pardon
For Mariana's fake: but as he adjudg'd your brother,
Being criminal, in double violation
Of facred chastity, and of promise-breach,
Thereon dependant for your brother's life,
The very mercy of the law cries out
Moft audible, even from his proper tonguè,
An Angelo for Claudio; death for death.
Hafte ftill pays hatte, and leisure answers, leisure ;
Like doth quit like, and Mealure ftill for Meafure.
Then, Angelo, thy faults are manifefted;
Which tho thou would'f deny, denies thee vantage
We do condemn thee to the very block,
Where Claudio stoop'd to death; and with like hafte;
Away with him.

Mari. Oh, my most gracious Lord,
I hope, you will not mock me with a huband ?

Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a huband.
Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,
1 thought your marriage fit; elle imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproach your life,
And choak your good to come for his pofíe ilions,
Altho' by confiscation they are ours,
We do ep state and widow you withal,
To buy you a better husband.

Mari. Oh, my dear Lord,
1 crave no other, nor no better man.

Duke. Never crave him ;, we are definitive.
Mari, Gentle, my Liege
Duke. You do but lofe


labour :
Away with him to death. Now, Sir, to you.

Mari. Oh, my good Lord. Sweet Isabel, take my part;
kend me your knees, and all my life to come
I'll lend you all my life, to do you service,


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Duke. Against all sense you do importune her;
Should the kneel. down, in mercy of this fact,
Her brother's ghort his paved bed would break,
And take her hence in horror,

Mari. Isabel,
Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me,
Hold up your hands, say nothing ; I'll speak alli
They say, beft men are moulded out of faults ;
And, for the moít, become much more the better
For being a little bad: fo may my husband.
Oh, Jabel! will you not lend a knee?.

Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.
I/ab. Moft bounteous Sir,

Look, if it please you, on this man condemnd,
As if my brother liv'd: I partly think,
A due fincerity governd his deeds,
"Till he did look on me;. fince it is fog
Let him not die. My brother had but justice,
In that he did the thing for which he dy'd;
For Angelo, his act did not o'ertake his bad intent;
And must be bury'd but as an intent,
That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects ::
Intents, but merely thoughts.

Mari. Merely, my Lord.

Duke. Your fuit's unprofitable ; stand up, I say:
I have bethought me of another fault,
Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded
At an unusual hour?

Prov. It was commanded fo.
Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed ?
Pirov. No, my good Lord; it was by private message..

Duke. For which I do discharge you of your office : Give up your keys.

Prov. Pardon me, noble Lord.
I thought, it was a fault, but knew it not;
Yet did repent me, after more advice :
For testimony whereof, one in th' prison,
That should by private order elle have dy'd,,
I have resery'd alive.


Duke. What's he?
Prov. His name is Barnardine.

Duke. I would, thou had'ft done fo by Claudio :
Go, fétch him hither; let me look upon him. (30)

Escal. I'm sorry, one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Should Nip fo grossly both in heat of blood, And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.

Ang. I'm sorry, that such sorrow I procuré ;
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy:
'Tis my deserving, and I do intreat it.

Enter Provoft, Barnardine, Claudio, and Julietta,
Duke. Which is that Barnardine ??
Prov. This, my Lord.

Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man:
Şirrah, thou’rt faid to have a stubborn foul,
That apprehends no further than this world';
And squar't thy life accordingly : thou’rt condemn'd;
But for those earthly faults, I quit them all:
I pray thee, take this mercy to provide
For better times to come: Friar, advise him ;
I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's that?

Prov. This is another prisoner, that I fav’d
Who should have dy'd when, Claudio lost his head;
As like almost to Claudio, as himself.

Duke. If he be like your brother, for his fake
Is he pardon'd ; and for your lovely fake,
Give me your hand, and say, you will be mine,
He is my brother too,; but fitter time for that.

(30) Go, fetch bim bither:] The introducing Barnardive here, is, feemingly a matter of no consequence;, as he is no person con: cern'd in the action of the Play, nor directly aiding to the Denguee ment, as the Frencb call it, of the plot: but, to our Poet's praise, let me observe, that it is not done without double art; ie gives a handle for the discovery of Claudio being alive, and so heightens the furprize; and, at the same time, by the pardon of Barnardine, gives a fine opportunity of making the Duke's character more amiable, both, før mercy, and virtue.


By this, Lord Angelo perceives he's safe ;
Methinks, I see a quickning in his eye.
Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well ;
Look, that you love your wife; her worth, worth yours.
I find an apt remiflion in myself,
And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon.
You, firrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward,

[TO Lucio
One of all luxury, an afs, a mad-man;
Wherein have I deserved fo. of you,
That you extol me thus i

Lucio. 'Faith, my Lord, I spoke it but according to the trick; if you will hang me for it, you may: but b had rather it would please you, I might be whipt.

Duke. Whipt first, Sir, and hang'd after.
Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city;
If any woman, wrong'd by this lewd fellow,
(As I have heard him swear himself, there's one
Whom he begot with child) let her appear,
And he shall marry her; the nuptial finish'd,
Let him be whipt and hang'd.

Lucio. I beseech your Highness, do not marry me to a whore : your Highness said even now, I made you a Duke; good my Lord, do not recompence me, ir making me a cuckold,

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her : Thy flanders I forgive, and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits ; take him to prison : And see our pleasure herein executed.

Lucio. Marrying a punk, my Lord, is pressing to. death, whipping and hanging.

Duke. Sland'ring a Prince deserves it.
She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look, you restore.
Joy to you, Mariana : love her, Angelo : (31)

I (31) Joy to you, Mariana; love ber Angelo :) I cannot help taking notice, with how much judgment Shakespeare has given turns to this story, from what he found it in Cintbio Giraldi's novel. In the first place, the brother, whom our Poet calls Claudio is there actually executed : And the ungrateful Governor sends his head in a


I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue,
Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness :
There's more behind, that is more gratulate.
Thanks, Provost, for thy care and fecresy;
We Tall employ thee in a worthier place:
Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's;
Th'offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel,
I have a motion much imports your good,
Whereto if you'll a willing car incline,
What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine :
So bring us to our palace, where we'll New
What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know.

[Exeunt. bravado, to his sister; after he had debauch'd her, on promise of marriage. A circumstance of too much horror, and villainy, for the stage. And in the next place, this fifter afterwards is, to solder up her disgrace, marry'd to the Governor, and begs his life of the Emperor, tho' he had so unjustly been the death of her brother, Both which absurdities our Poet has avoided by the episode of Mariana, a creature purely of his own invention. The Duke's remaining incognito at home, to supervise the conduct of his Deputy, is also entirely our Author's fiction. -- This Aory was attempted for the scene by one George W berstone (before our Author was four. teen years old,) in two Comical Discourses (as they are call’d) containing, the right, excellent and famous history of Promos and Casandra: and printed in the old black letter, in 1578. Neither of these discourses, I believe, were ever acted. The author left them with his friends, to publish; for he, that very year, accompanied Sir Humphry Gilbert, Sir Walter Raleigh's brother, in his voyage to Norimbega in the Weft-Indies. I could prove to demonkration, that Shakespeare had perus’d these pieces; but whoever has seen, and knows what exccrable mean stuff they are; I am sure, will acquit him from all suspicion of plagiarism.

The End of the FIRST Volume.

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