Ifab. My brother did love Juliet ; And you tell me, that he shall die for it. Ang. He fhall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Ifab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in't, Which feems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Ang. Believe me, on mine honour, Ifab. Ha little honour to be much believ'd, Or, with an out-ftretch'd throat, I'll tell the world - Ang. Who will believe' thee, Isabel? Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindness fhall his death draw out [Exit. Yet Yet hath he in him fuch a mind of honour, Then, Ijabel, live chatte; and, brother, die; And fit his mind to death, for his foul's reft. [Exit. АСТ III. SCENE, the Prifon. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost: DUKE. then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo? Claud. The miferable have no other medicine, But only Hope I've hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. Duke. Be abfolute for death: or death, or life, Shall thereby be the fweeter. Reason thus with life; (10) (10) Reafon thus with Life; If I do lofe thee, I do lofe a Thing That none but Fools would keep.] But this Reading is not only contrary to all Senfe and Reafon; but to the Drift of this moral Difcourfe. The Duke, in his affumed Character of a Friar, is endeavouring to inftil into the condemned Prisoner a Refignation of Mind to his Sentence; but the Senfe of the Lines, in this Reading, is a direct Perfuafive to Suicide: I make no doubt, but the Poet wrote, That none but Fools would reck. i. e. care for, be anxious about, regret the Lofs of. Mr. Warburton: If I do lose thee, I do lofe a thing, That none but fools would reck; a breath thou art, That doft this habitation, where thou keep'ft, Are nurs'd by bafenefs: thou'rt by no means valiant ; Of a poor worm. Thy beft of reft is fleep, And death unloadeth thee. Friend thou haft none; Do curfe the Gout, Serpigo, and the Rheum, For ending thee no fooner. Thou haft nor youth, nor age; Dreaming on both; for all thy bleffed youth Of paled Eld; and when thou'rt old and rich, Claud. I humbly thank you. To fue to live, I find, I feek to die; And, feeking death, find life: let it come on. Enter Enter Ifabella. Ifab. What, ho peace here, grace and good company! Prov. Who's there? come in the wifh deferves a welcome. Duke. Dear Sir, ere long I'll vifit you again, Claud. Moft holy Sir, I thank you. Ifab. My bufinefs is a word, or two, with Claudio. Prov. And very welcome. your fifter. Look, Signior, here's Duke. Provoft, a word with you. Prov. As many as you please. Duke. Bring them to speak where I may be conceal'd, Yet hear them. [Exeunt Duke and Provost. Claud. Now, fifter, what's the comfort? Ifab. Why, as all comforts are; most good in deed: Lord Angelo, having affairs to heav'n, Intends you for his fwift ambaffador; Where you shall be an everlasting leiger. Therefore your best appointment make with speed, Claud. Is there no remedy? Ifab. None, but fuch remedy, as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain. Claud. But is there any? Ifab. Yes, brother, you may live: There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you'll implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you 'till death. Claud. Perpetual durance ? Ijab. Ay, juft; perpetual durance; a refraint, Tho' all the world's vaftidity you had, To a determin'd fcope. Claud. But in what nature? Ijab. In fuch a one, as you, confenting to't, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked. Claud. Let me know the point. Ifab. Oh, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Than a perpetual honour. Dar'ft thou die? Claud. Why give you me this fhame ? Ifab. There spake my brother; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou muft die : Thou art too noble to conferve a life In bafe appliances. This outward-fainted Deputy, Nips youth i'th' head; and follies doth emmew, Claud. The princely Angelo? Ifab. Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, In princely guards. Doft thou think, Claudio, Thou might't be freed? Claud. Oh, heav'ns! it cannot be. Ifab. Yes, he would give't thee; from this rank offence This night's the time So to offend him still. That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou dy't to-morrow. Ifab. Oh, were it but my life, I'd throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin. Claud. Thanks, dearest Ifabel. Ijab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-n orrow. Claud. |