ACT IV.

SCENE, a Grange.

Enter Mariana, and Boy finging.

SONG.

TAKE, oh, take thofe lips away, (21)

That fo fweetly were forfworn ;

And thofe eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn;
But my kiffes bring again,

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 fill'd my brawling difcontent. I cry you mercy, Sir, and well could wish, You had not found me here fo mufical: Let me excufe me, and believe me fo, My mirth it much difpleas'd, but pleas'd my woe. Duke. 'Tis good; tho' music oft hath fuch a charm To make bad, good; and good provoke to harm.

(21) Take, oh, take those lips away,] This fong, which, no doubt, was a great favourite in its time, is inferted in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bloody Brother, with this additional stanza.

Hide, ob, hide thofe hills of snow,

Which thy frozen bofom bears;
On whofe tops the pinks, t at grow,
Are of those that April wears.
But my poor heart first fet free,

Bound in thofe icy chains by thee.

With this addition likewife it is printed in the volume of ShakeSpeare's poems. The reafon, of this fecond ftanza being omitted here, is obvious. Mariana has the fong fung, applicable to her love for Angelo, and his perjury to her: and the addition can only fort, when address'd from a lover to his mistress.

VOL. I.

R

I pray

I

pray you, tell me, hath any body enquir'd for me here to-day much upon this time, have I promis'd here to meet.

Mari. You have not been enquir'd after: I have fate here all day.

even now.

Enter Ifabel.

Duke. I do conftantly believe you: the time is come, I fhall crave your forbearance a little ; may be, I will call upon you anon for fome advantage to yourself.

Mari. I am always bound to you.

Duke. Very well met, and well come: What is the news from this good Deputy?

[Exit.

Ifab. He hath a garden circummur'd with brick,
Whofe western fide is with a vineyard backt;
And to that vineyard is a planched gate,
That makes his opening with this bigger key:
This other doth command a little door,
Which from the vineyard to the garden leads;
There, on the heavy middle of the night,
Have I my promife made to call upon him.

Duke. But fhall you on your knowledge find this way?
Ifab. I've ta'n a due and wary note upon't;
With whifp'ring and moft guilty diligence,
In action all of precept, he did show me
The way twice o'er.

Duke. Are there no other tokens

Between you 'greed, concerning her obfervance?
Ifab. No: none, but only a repair i'th' dark;
And that I have poffeft him, my most stay
Can be but brief; for I have made him know,
I have a fervant comes with me along,
That ftays upon me; whofe perfuafion is,
I come about my brother.

Duke. 'Tis well born up.

I have not yet made known to Mariana

A word of this. What, hoa! within! come forth!

Enter

Enter Mariana.

I pray you, be acquainted with this maid;
She comes to do you good.

Ifab. I do defire the like.

Duke. Do you perfuade yourself that I refpect you? Mari. Good Friar, I know you do; and I have found it. Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear:

I shall attend your leifure; but make hafte;
The vaporous night approaches.

Mari. Wilt please you walk afide?

[Exeunt Mar. and Ifab. Duke. Oh place and greatnefs! millions of falfe eyes

Are ftuck upon thee: volumes of report

Run with thefe falfe and most contrarious quefts
Upon thy doings: thoufand 'fcapes of wit

Make thee the father of their idle dreams,

And rack thee in their fancies! Welcome; how agreed ? Re-enter Mariana, and Ifabel.

Ifab. She'll take the enterprize upon her, father,

If you advise it.

Duke. 'Tis not my confent,

But my intreaty too.

Ifab. Little have you

to fay,

When you depart from him, but foft and low,

"Remember now my brother."

Mari. Fear me not.

Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all:

He is your husband on a pre-contract;

To bring you thus together, 'tis no fin:

Sith that the juftice of your title to him

Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go;

Our corn's to reap; for yet our tilth's to fow. (22) [Exe.

(22) for yet our tythe's to fow.] It must be tilth; that is, our tillage is yet to be made; our grain is yet to be put in the ground; the project, from which we expect to profit in the iffue, is ftill to be put in hand.

- SCENE changes to the Prison.

Enter Provoft and Clown.

HOME hither, firrah: can you cut off a man's

Prov. head?
COM

Clorun. If the man be a batchelor, Sir, I can: but if he be a marry'd man, he is his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head.

Prev. Come, Sir, leave me your fnatches, and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine: here is in our prifon a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper; if you will take it on you to affift him, it fhall redeem you from your gyves: if not, you fhall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping; for you have been a notorious

bawd.

Clown. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, time out of mind, but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman: I would be glad to receive fome inftruction from my fellow-partner.

Prov. What hoa, Abhorfon! where's Abhorfon, there?

Enter Abhorfon.

Abhor. Do you call, Sir?

Prov. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution; if you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, ufe him for the prefent, and difmifs him. He cannot plead his eftimation with you, he hath been a bawd.

Abhor. A bawd, Sir fy upon him, he will difcredit our mystery.

Prov. Go to, Sir, you weigh equally; a feather will turn the fcale.

[Exit. Clown. Pray, Sir, by your good favour; (for, furely, Sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look ;) do you call, Sir, your occupation a mystery ?

Abber

Abhor. Ay, Sir; a mystery.

Clown. Painting, Sir, I have heard fay, is a mystery; and your whores, Sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a myftery but what mystery there fhould be in hanging, if I fhould be hang'd, I cannot imagine.

Abbor. Sir, it is a mystery.

Clerun. Proof.

Abbor. (23) Every true man's apparel fits your thief, Clown: if it be too little for your true man, your thief thinks it big enough. If it be too big for your true man, your thief thinks it little enough; fo every true man's apparel fits your thief.

Re-enter Provoft.

Prov. Are you agreed ?

Cloren. Sir, I will ferve him: for I do find, your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftner afk forgiveness.

Prov. You, firrah, provide your block and your ax to-morrow, four o'clock.

Abbor. Come on, bawd, I will inftruct thee in my trade; follow.

Clown. I do defire to learn, Sir; and I hope, if you have occafion to ufe me for your own turn, you (24)

:

fhall

(23) Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. Clown. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough. If it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough fo every true man's apparel fits your thief] This is a very notable paffage, as it ftands in all the editions; but, I dare fay, is notably corrupted; and both the fpeeches, and the words, fhuffled and misplaced. What! does the Clown afk proof, how the hangman's trade is a mystery; and, fo foon as ever Abborfon advances his Thefis to prove it, the Clown takes the argument out of his mouth, and perverts the very tenour of it? I am fatisfied, the Poet intended a regular fyllogifm; and I fubmit it to judgment, whether my regulation has not reftor'd that wit, and humour which was quite loft in the depravation.

(24) You shall find me yours ;] This reading, I believe, was firft Mr. Rowe's; and confequently adopted by the laft Editor. The old books

R 3.