The stealth of our 4 moft mutual entertainment,
With character too grofs, is writ on Juliet.
Lucio. With child, perhaps?

Claud. Unhappily, even fo.

And the new deputy now for the Duke,

(Whether it be the fault, and glimpfe, of newness;
Or whether that the body publick be

A horse whereon the Governor doth ride,
Who, newly in the feat, that it may know
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
Whether the tyranny be in his Place,

Or in his eminence that fills it up,

I ftagger in: ) but this new Governor
Awakes me all th' enrolled penalties,

Which have, like unfcour'd armour, hung by th' wall
So long, that nineteen Zodiacks have gone round,
And none of them been worn; and, for a name,
Now puts the drowfie and neglected Act
Freshly in me; 'tis furely, for a name.

Lucio. I warrant, it is; and thy head ftands fo tickle on thy fhoulders, that a milk-maid, if fhe be in love, may figh it off. Send after the Duke, and appeal to him.

Claud. I have done fo, but he's not to be found.
I pr'ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service:
This day my Sister should the Cloister enter,
And there receive her Approbation.
Acquaint her with the danger of my state,
Implore her, in my voice, that fhe make friends
To the ftrict Deputy; bid her felf affay him;
I have great hope in that; for in her youth
There is a prone and fpeechlefs dialect,

Such as moves men! befide, fhe hath profp❜rous art

4 most mutual-] i. e. moft intimate. The phrafe is extremely elegant on this occafion; yet difliked by the Oxford Editor, who trikes out most.

When

When she will play with reason and discourse,
And well fhe can perfuade.

Lucio. I pray, the may; as well for the encourage ment of the like, which elfe would ftand under grievous impofition; as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be forry fhould be thus foolishly loft at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her.

Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio,
Lucio. Within two hours,-

Claud. Come, officer, away.

Duke.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

VII.

A MONASTER Y.

Enter Duke, and Friar Thomas.

Believe not, that the dribbling dart of love

O; holy father, throw away that thought;

Can pierce a compleat bofom: why I defire thee
To give me fecret harbour, hath a purpose

More grave, and wrinkled, than the aims and ends
Of burning youth.

Fri. May your Grace speak of it?

Duke. My holy Sir, none better knows than you, How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd;

And held in idle price to haunt Affemblies,
Where youth, and coft, and witless bravery keeps.
I have deliver'd to lord Angelo

5 (A man of ftrict ure and firm abftinence)
My abfolute Pow'r and Place here in Vienna ;
And he fuppofes me travell'd to Poland;
For fo I've ftrew'd it in the common ear,

5 A man of STRICTURE and firm abftinence] ftri&ture makes no fenfe in this place. We fhould read,

A man of STRICT URE and firm abftinence.

¿. e. a man of the exacteft conduct, and practifed in the fubdual of his paffions. Ure an old word for ufe, practice, so enur'd, habituated to.

And

And fo it is receiv'd: now, pious Sir,
You will demand of me, why I do this?
Fri. Gladly, my lord.

Duke. We have strict Statutes and most biting Laws, ❝ (The needful bits and curbs for head-strong Steeds,) Which for these nineteen years 7 we have let fleep; Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave,

That goes not out to prey: now, as fond fathers
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch,
Only to stick it in their children's fight,
For terror, not to use; in time the rod
Becomes more mock'd, than fear'd: fo our Decrees,
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
And Liberty plucks Juftice by the nose;
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum.

Fri. It refted in your Grace

T'unloofe this ty'd up juftice, when you pleas'd:
And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd,
Than in lord Angelo.

Duke. I do fear, too dreadful.

Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope,
'Twould be my tyranny to ftrike, and gall them,
For what I bid them do. For we bid this be done,
When evil deeds have their permiffive pass,

And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father,
I have on Angelo impos'd the office :

Who may in th' ambush of my name ftrike home,
And yet, my nature never in the fight

To do in flander: And to behold his fway,

6 The needful bits and curbs for headstrong WEEDS,] Common fenfe, and the integrity of the metaphor, fhews that Shakespear wrote headstrong STEEDS.

7

We have let SLIP;

Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave,] The fimilitude fhews that Shakespear wrote, - we have let SLEEP.

I will,

I will, as 'twere a Brother of your Order,
Vifit both prince and people; therefore, pr'ythee,
Supply me with the habit, and inftruct me
How I may formally in perfon bear,

Like a true Friar. More reasons for this action
At our more leifure fhall I render you;

Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precife;

"Stands at a guard with envy; fcarce confeffes "That his blood flows, or that his appetite

"Is more to bread than stone: hence fhall we fee, If pow'r change purpose, what our feemers be. [Exe.

Ifab. AND have you Nuns no further privileges?

Nun. Are not these large enough?

Ifab Yes, truly; I fpeak not as defiring more;
But rather wishing a more ftrict restraint

Upon the fifter-hood, the votarifts of Saint Clare.
Lucio. [within.] Hoa! Peace be in this place!
Ifab. Who's that, which calls?

Nun. It is a man's voice: gentle Isabella,
Turn you the key, and know his bufinefs of him
You may; I may not; you are yet unfworn:

* When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men, But in the prefence of the Priorefs;

Then, if you fpeak, you must not fhew your face; Or, if you fhew your face, you must not speak.

اد

8 When you bave vow'd you must not speak with men
But in the prefence of the Priorefs;

Then, if you speak, you must not fhew your face

He

Or, if you hear your face, you must not speak This is a very artful preparation for the effects that Ifabel's folicitation had on Angelo in the following Scene, as it fhews the mischiefs of

beauty

He calls again, I pray you, anfwer him. [Exit Franc. Ifab. Peace and profperity! who is't that calls? Enter Lucio.

Lucio. Hail, virgin, (if you be) as thofe check-rofes
Proclaim you are no lefs; can you fo ftead me,
As bring me to the fight of Isabella,

A novice of this place, and the fair sister
To her unhappy brother Claudio?

Ifab. Why her unhappy brother? let me ask
The rather, for I now muft make you know
I am that Isabella, and his fifter.

[you;

Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. Ifab. Wo me! for what?

Lucia. For that, which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks; He hath got his friend with child.

Ifab. Sir, make me not your ftory.

[liar fin Lucio. 'Tis true:-I would not (tho' 'tis my famiWith maids to feem the lapwing, and to jeft, Tongue far from heart) play with all virgins fo. I hold you as a thing en-sky'd, and fainted;

beauty to be fo great, that the Religious had laid down rules and regulations to prevent its inordinate influence, which leffens our furprise at Angelo's weakness.

9

'tis my familiar fin

With maids to feem the lapwing,-] The Oxford Editor's note, on this paffage, is in these words. The Lapwings fly with feeming fright and anxiety far from their nets, to deceive those who feek their young. And do not all other birds do the fame? But what has this to do with the infidelity of a general lover, to whom this bird is compared. It is another quality of the lapwing, that is here alluded to, viz. its perpetually flying fo low and fo near the paffenger, that he thinks he has it, and then is fuddenly gone again. This made it a proverbial expreffion to fignify a lover's falfhood and it feems to be a very old one; for Chaucer, in his Plowman's Tale, fays And lapwings that well conith lie. VOL. I.

Bb

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