Ang. Stay yet a while.-Y'are welcome; what's your will? fab, I am a weeful fuitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me, Ang. Well; what's your fuit ? Lab. There is a vice that most I do abhor, Ang. Well; the matter? Ijab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die; Prov. Heav'n give thee moving graces! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it To find the faults, whofe fine stands in record, Ifab. O juft, but fevere law! I ad a brother then ;-heav'n keep your honour! Ifab. Muft he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no remedy. Ifab. Yes; I do think, that you might pardon him And neither heav'n, nor man, grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do't. Ifab. But can you if you would ? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. Ijab. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong,, If fo your heart were touch'd with that remorse, Ang. He's fentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. jab. Too late? why, no; I, that do fpeak a word, May May call it back again: Well believe this, (9) Not the King's crown, nor the deputed fword, Ifab. I wou'd to heav'n I had your potency, Lucio. Ay, touch him; there's the vein. Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words. Ifab. Alas! alas! Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once; (9) Well, believe this,] This manner of pointing, which runs thro all the copies, gives an air of addrefs too familiar for an inferior to ufe to a perfon of distinction. But taking away the comma after, well, not only removes the objection, but reftores a mode of expreffion, which our Author delig ts to ufe, Well believe this; i e. Be convinc'd, be throughly aftur'd of this. So, afterwards, in this Play, Angelo says ; So, Gonzalo, in the Tempeft. I do well believe your Highnefs, And fo, in King John; And well fhall you perceive. So one of the Gentlemen in the opening Scene of Cymbeline; Ang. Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother. It fhould be thus with him; he dies to-morrow. Ifab. To-morrow? oh! that's fudden. Spare him, He's not prepar'd for death: Even for our kitchins To our grofs felves? good, good my Lord, bethink you: There's many have committed it. Lucio. Ay, well faid. Ang. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath flept: Thofe many had not dar'd to do that evil, If the first man, that did th' ecict infringe, Had answer'd for his deed. Now, 'tis awake; And fo in progrefs to be hatch'd and born, Ifab. Yet thew fome pity. Ang.. I fhew it moft of all, when I fhew juftice; For then I pity thofe, I do not know; Which a difmifs'd offence would after gaul; And do him right, that, anfwering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be fatisfy'd; Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. Ifab. So you must be the fift, that gives this fentence; And he, that fuffers : oh, 'tis excellent To have a giant's ftrength; but it is tyrannous, Lucio. That's well faid. Ifab. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet; Would ufe his heav'n for thunder; Nothing but thunder: merciful heav'n! Thou Thou rather with thy fharp, and fulph'rous, bolt Moft ignorant of what he's most affur'd, Plays fuch fantastick tricks before high heav'n, As makes the angels weep; who, with our fpleens, (10) Would all themselves laugh mortal. Lucio. Oh, to him, to him, wench; he will relent He's coming: I perceive't. Prov. Pray heav'n, the win him! Ifab. We cannot weigh our brother with yourself: (11) Great men may jeft with faints; 'tis wit in them; But, in the lefs, foul prophanation. Lucio. Thou'rt right, girl; more o' that. fab. That in the captain's but a cholerick word, Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy. Lucio. Art avis'd o' that? more on't. bofom; Ang. Why do you put these fayings upon me? fab. Becaufe authority, tho' it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That fkins the vice, o' th' top: go to your Knock there, and ask your heart, what it doth know That's like my brother's fault; if it confefs A natural guiltinefs, fuch as is his, (10) As makes the angels weep; who, with our fpteens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.] Men play fuch fantastick tricks, and appear fo ridiculous, as to make the angels weep in compaffion of our extravagance: who, if they were endued with our pleens and perishable organs, would laugh themselves out of immortality; or, as we fay in common life, laugh themselves dead. This notion of the Angels weeping for the fins of men is purely rabbinical. -Ob peccatum flentes angelos inducunt Hebræorum Magiftri.-Grotius ad S. Lucam, c. 15. v. 7. (11) We cannot weigh our brother with ourself.] Why not? Tho' this fhould be the reading of all the copies, 'tis as plain as light, it is not the Author's meaning. Ifabella would fay, there is fo great a ditpropotion in quality betwixt Lord Angelo and her brother, that their actions can bear no comparison, or equality, together: but her brother's crimes would be aggravated, Angelo's frailties extenuated, from the difference of their degrees and state of life. Mr. Warburton. Let Let it not found a thought upon your tongue - Ang. She fpeaks, and 'tis fuch sense, That my fenfe breeds with it. Fare you well. Ang. I will bethink me: come again to-morrow. Ifab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: good my Lord, turn back. Ang. How? bribe me? fab. Ay, with fuch gifts, that heav'n fhall fhare with you. Lucio. You had marr'd all else. Ifab. Not with fond fhekels of the tested gold, Ang. Well; come to-morrow. Ijab. Heav'n keep your honour fafe! For I am that way going to temptation, Ifab. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your Lordship? [Exe. Lucio and Ifabella. Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue. What's this? what's this? is this her fault, or mine ? The tempter, or the tempted, who fins moft? Not the; nor doth the tempt; but it is I, That, lying by the violet in the fun, Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, Than woman's lightnefs? having wafte ground enough, Dot |