Bawd. I am too fure of it; and it is for getting madam Julietta with child. Lucio. Believe me, this may be. He promifed to meet me two hours fince, and he was ever precife in promife-keeping. 2 Gent. Befides, you know, it draws fomething near to the fpeech we had to fuch a purpose. 1 Gent. But most of all agreeing with the proclama tion. Lucio. Away, let's go learn the truth of it. [Exe. Manet Bawd. Bawd. Thus, what with the war, what with the fweat, (2) what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom shrunk. How now, what's the news with you? SCENE V. Enter Clown. Clown. Yonder man is carry'd to prifon. Clown. A woman. Bawd. But what's his offence? Clown. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. Bawd. What? is there a maid with child by him? Clown. No; but there's a woman with maid by him. You have not heard of the proclamation, have you? Bawd. What proclamation, man? Clown. All houses in the fuburbs of Vienna muft be pluck'd down. Bawd. And what fhall become of thofe in the city? Clown. They shall ftand for feed; they had gone down too, but that a wife burgher put in for them. Bazud. But fhall all our houfes of refort in the suburbs be pull'd down? Clown. To the ground, mistress. (2) What with the fweat.] This may allude to the Sweatingfickness, of which the memory was very fresh in the time of Shakefpear: but more probably to the method of cure then ufed for the difeafes contracted in Brothels. Bawd Bawd. Why here's a change, indeed, in the common wealth. What shall become of me? Clown. Come, fear not you? good counsellors lack no clients; though you change your place, you need not change your trade: I'll be your tapfter ftill. Courage, there will be pity taken on you; you that have worn your eyes almoft out in the fervice, you will be confidered. Bard. What's to do here, Thomas Tapfter? let's withdraw. Clown. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provok to prifon; and there's Madam Juliet. [Exit Bawd and Clown. SCENE VL Enter Provoft, Claudio, Juliet, and Officers. Lucio. and two Gentlemen, Claud. Fellow, why doft thou show me thus to th❜ world? Bear me to prifon, where I am committed. Claud. Thus can the Demi-god, Authority,(3) (3) Thus can the Demi-god, Authority, Make us pay down, for our offence, by weight The words of heaven, on whom it will, it will; On whim it will not, fo; yet ftill 'tis juft.] The wrong pointing of the fecond line hath made the paffage unintelligible. There ought to be a full stop at weight. And the fenfe of the whole is this: The Demi-god, Authority, makes us pay the full penalty of our offence, and its decrees are as little to be queftioned as the words of heaven, which fronounces its pleasure thus, I punish and remit punishment according to my own uncontrolable will, and yet who can fay what. deft the Make us pay down, for our offence, by weight, is a fine expreffion, to fignify paying the full penalty. The metaphor is taken from paying money by weight, which is always exact; not fo by tale, on account of the practice of diminishing the fpecies. I fufpect that a line is loft. WARBURT. Lucio. Why, how now, Claudio? whence comes this reftraint? Claud. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty; As furfeit is the father of much faft, So ev'ry scope by the immoderate ufe Turns to reftraint: our natures do purfue; Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, A thirsty evil; and when we drink, we die. Lucio. If I could fpeak fo wifely under an arreft, I would fend for certain of my creditors; and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom, as the morality of imprifonment: what's thy offence, Claudio ? Claud. What, but to speak of, would offend again.. Claud. No. Lucio. Letchery ? Claud. Call it fo. Prov. Away, Sir, you must go. Claud. One word, good friend :— Lucio, a word: with you. Lucio. A hundred; if they'll do you any good. Is letchery fo look'd after? I Claud. Thus ftands it with me; upon a true contract got poffeffion of Julietta's bed, (You know the lady) fhe is faft my wife; Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order. This we came not to, Only for propagation of a dower Remaining in the coffer of her friends; From whom we thought it meet to hide our love,, "Till time had made them for us. But it chances,, The ftealth of our 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; (4)) Or whether that the body public be (4) -the fault and glimpse of newness.] Fault and glimpse have fo little relation to each other, that both can fcarcely be right; we may read flafb for fault, A horfe A horfe whereon the Governor doth ride, I ftagger in :) but this new Governor Which have, like unfcour'd armour, hung by th’wall Freshly on 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 she 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. Acquaint her with the danger of my state, (5) So long that nineteen Zodiacks have gone round.] The Duke is the Scene immediately following, fays, Which for these fourteen Years we have let slip. The Authour could not fo difagree with himself. 'Tis neceffary to make the two Accounts correfpond. THEOBALD. (6) pr.ne and Speechless dialect.] I can scarcely tell what fignification to give to the word prone. Its primitive and tranflated fenfes are well known. The author may, by a prone dialect, mean a dialect which men are prone to regard, or a dialect natural and unforced, as thofe actions feem to which we are prone. Either of these interpretations is fufficiently ftrained; but fuch diftortion of words is not uncommon in our authour. For the fake of an eaker fense we may read, In her youth There is a pow'r, and speechless dialect Such as moves men. Or thus, There is a prompt and speechlefs dialect, When When she will play with reafon and discourse, Lucio. I pray, the may; as well for the encouragement of the like, which elfe would ftand under grievous impofition;(7) 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. Claud. Come, officer, away. Duke. SCENE VII. A MONASTERY. Enter Duke, and Friar Thomas. NRB [Exeunt. TO; holy father--Throw away that thought-- More grave, and wrinkled, than the aims and ends. 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. A man of stricture and firm abftinence (9) (7)-under grievous impofion.] I once thought it fhould be inquifition, but the prefent reading is probably right. The crime would be under grievous penalties impofed. (8) Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a compleat befom] Think not that a breaft compleatly armed can be pierced by the dart of love that comes fluttering without force. (9) Aman of STRICTURE and firm abstinence.] Stricture makes no fenfe in this place. We fhould read, A man of STRICT URE and firm abftinence. i. e, a man of the exacteft conduct, and practifed in the fubdual of his paffions. Ure an old word for ufe, practice, fo enur'd, habituated WARBURTON. to. Stri&ure may eafily be used for ftrictness; ure is indeed an old word, but, I think, always applied to things, never to perfons. My |