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Duke. Why fhould he die, Sir?

Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-difh: I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again; this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency. Sparrows must not build in his houseeaves, because they are leacherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light; would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untruffing. Farewel, good Friar; I pry'thee, pray for me: the duke, I fay to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's not paft it yet; and I fay to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, tho' fhe smelt of brown bread and garlick: fay, that I faid fo, farewel.

[Exit.

Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality
Can cenfure scape: back-wounding calumny
The whiteft virtue ftrikes. What king so strong,
Can tie the gall up in the fland'rous tongue?
But who comes here?

S C E NE VII.

Enter Efcalus, Provoft, Bawd, and Officers.
Efcal. Go, away with her to prison.

Bawd. Good my lord, be good to me; your Honour is accounted a merciful man: good my lord.

Efcal. Double and treble admonition, and ftill forfeit in the fame kind? this would make mercy fwerve, and play the tyrant.

Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may it please your Honour.

Bawd. My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me: miftrefs Kate Keep-down was with child by him in the duke's time; he promis'd her marriage;

I mercy SWEAR.] We fhould read SWERVE, i. e. deviate from her nature. The common reading gives us the idea of a ranting whore.

his child is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself, and fee, how he goes about to abufe me.

; let

Efcal. This fellow is a fellow of much licence him be call'd before us. Away with her to prifon : go to; no more words. [Exeunt with the Bawd.] Provaft, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd; Claudio muft die to-morrow: let him be furnish'd with divines, and have all charitable preparation. If my brother wrought by my pity, it fhould not be fo with him.

Pro. So please you, this Friar has been with him, and advis'd him for the entertainment of death. Efcal. Good even, good father.

Duke. Blifs and goodnefs on you!
Efcal. Of whence are you?

Duke. Not of this country, tho' my chance is now To ufe it for my time: I am a brother

Of gracious order, late come from the See
In fpecial business from his holiness.

Efcal. What news abroad i'th' world?

No

Duke. None, but that there is fo great a fever on goodness, that the diffolution of it muft cure it. velty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be conftant in any undertaking. There is fcarce truth enough alive, to make focieties fecure; but fecurity enough, to make fellowships accurft. Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world; this news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, Sir, of what difpofition was the duke?

Efcal. One, that, above all other strifes, Contended fpecially to know himself.

Duke. What pleasure was he giv'n to?

Efcal. Rather rejoicing to fee another merry, than merry at any thing which profeft to make him rejoice. A gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove profperous;

and

and let me defire to know, how you find Claudio prepar'd? I am made to understand, that you have lent him vifitation.

Duke. He profeffes to have received no finifter measure from his judge, but moft willingly humbles himself to the determination of juftice; yet had he fram'd to himself, by the inftruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I by my good leifure have difcredited to him, and now is he refolv'd to die.

Efcal. You have paid the heav'ns your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor gentleman, to the extremest fhore of my modefty; but my brother Juftice have I found fo fevere, that he hath forc'd me to tell him, he is indeed juftice.

Duke. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it fhall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenc'd himself.

Efcal. I am going to vifit the prisoner; fare you

well.

S CE

[Exit.

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Duke. Peace be with you!

He, who the fword of heav'n will bear,

Should be as holy as fevere:

Pattern in himself to know,

Grace to ftand, and virtue go;
More nor lefs to others paying,
Than by felf-offences weighing.
Shame to him, whofe cruel ftriking
Kills for faults of his own liking!
Twice treble shame on Angelo,
To weed my vice, and let his grow!
Oh, what may man within him hide,
Tho' angel on the outward fide!
E e

VOL. I.

? How

2

* How may that likenefs, made in crimes,
Making practice on the times,
Draw with idle fpiders' ftrings
Most pond'rous and fubftantial things!
Craft against vice I must apply.
With Angelo to night shall lye
His old betrothed, but defpis'd;
So difguife fhall by th' disguis'd
Pay with falfhood false exacting;
And perform an old contracting.

[Exit.

2 How may likeness made in crimes,
Making practice on the times,

To draw with idle spiders' firings

Moft pondrous and fubftantial things Thus all the Edisions read corruptly and fo have made an obfcure paffage in itself, quite unintelligible. Shakespear wrote it thus,

How may THAT likeness, made in crimes,
Making practice of the times,

Draw

em

The fenfe is this, How much wickedness may a man hide within, tho' he appear an angel without. How may that likenes nad in crimes, i. e. by Hypocrify; [a pretty paradoxical expreffion, an angel made in crimes] by impofing upon the world [thus phatically expreffed, making practice on the times] draw with its falfe and feeble pretences [finely called spiders firings] the mot pondrous and substantial matters of the world, as Riches, Honour, Power, Reputation, &c.

ACT

IV. SCENÉ I.

ACT IV.

A GRANGE.

Enter Mariana, and Boy finging.

"T"

SONG.

AKE, ob, take thofe lips away,
• That fo fweetly were forfworn;
And thofe eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mif-lead the morn;
But my kifles bring again,

6

• Seals of love, but feal'd in vain.

Enter Duke.

Mari. Break off thy fong, and hafte thee quick

away:

Here comes a man of comfort, whofe advice
Hath often still'd my brawling difcontent.
I cry you mercy, Sir, and well could with,
You had not found me here fo mufical:
Let me excufe me, and believe me fo,
My mirth is much difpleas'd, but pleas'd my woe.
Duke. 'Tis good; tho' mufick oft hath fuch a charm
To make bad, good; and good provoke to harm.
pray you, tell me, hath any body enquir'd for me

1 Take, oh, take, &c.] This is part of a little fonnet of ShakeSpear's own writing, confifting of two Stanzas, and fo extremely iweet, that the reader won't be displeased to have the other.

Hide, ob, hide thofe hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bofom bears,
On whofe tops, the pinks, that grow,
Are of thofe that April wears.
But my poor heart first fet free,
Bound in thofe icy chains by thee.

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