Measure for Measure. OR BEAUTY THE Best Advocate.  
As it is ACTED At the THEATRE in Lincolns-Inn-Fields.  
Written Originally by Mr. Shakespeare: And now very much Altered; With Additions of several Entertainments of MUSIC.  
LONDON: Printed for D. Brown, at the Black Swan without Temple-Bar; and R. Parker at the Unicorn Under the Royal-Exchange in Cornhill. 1700.   

The Persons NAMES.  

MEN.  
THe Duke of Savoy——— Mr. Arnold.  
Angelo his Deputy Privately Married to Mariana. Mr. Betterton.  
Escalus. Chief Minister under Angelo—— Mr. Berry.  
Claudio, A Young Nobleman, of an Ancient Family, but Decayed Fortune; one that Behaved himself well in the War, privately Married to Julietta. Mr. Verbrugen.  
Lucio, Two Courtiers. Mr. Bail.  
Balthaza, Two Courtiers. Mr. Pack.  
Friar Thomas.  
Provost,————— Mr. Freeman.   

WOMEN.  
Isabel, Sister to Claudio, a Young Votary, the signed, for want of Fortune, to a Nunnery. Mrs. Bracegirdle.  
Julietta, A Lady of Considerable Fortune; but left in the hands of a Covetous Uncle, who is a Hypocrite, and will give Consent to none, that he may not part with it, Mrs. Bowman.  
Mariana A Lady of no Fortune, secretly Married to Angelo, Mrs. Prince.   
SCENE Turin.   

To Nicholas Battersby, of the Inner-Temple, Esq  
SIR,  
I Will not so far Rail at my own Practice, as to Exclaim against Epistles of this Nature, to People of the First Quality, from Persons below 'em: However, I think, 'tis much more Reasonable, to Express our Gratitude to a private Friend in the best manner we can; than Court one, to be so, who values neither the Man, nor his Dedication, farther, than it Flatters his Vanity. The Author is not always Guiltless of this Weakness; To show that he is Acquainted with a Man of Note and Dignity, he shall Confess Favours he never Received; and, more often Petition for 'em, than he shall ever Succeed. 'Tis Pity, indeed, Men of Generous Education and Sentiments, should be Exposed to such Mean Things, as to have an Occasion to Complain, that there are in England (the Noblest Nation of Europe) a People, Wearing all the Marks of Grandeur and Magnificence, whose Souls would, much better, Agree with the Good Husbandry of Amsterdam and Geneva. A People, Professing a Value for the Muses, and such as Belong to 'em; while, in the Little Care they take, to Encourage their Studies, we Discover their Concern for the Sisters and their Sons Consists in nothing more, than Promoting their Interest, and Humouring their own Conceit of Inspiration. Praise is ever Welcome when it Costs Nothing: and if a Good Word, or a Fair Promise, will Engage a Writer to Speak Well of one that wants it, the Bargain is Cheap enough, when it can be so easily Purchased. Tho' a Little Warmer Assistance, would, sometimes be necessary: Yet this is the Entertainment we have Generally found. And since the Patrons are of such Miserable Dispositions, I see no reason why we should not Prefer the Friends we Converse with, and who are fond of Serving us, before such as Treat us, like their Domestics, in every thing but Promoting us.  
Experience tells me, there are many, whose Names are not so often repeated, nor their Liveries so much seen, who Deserve as well to be Remembered, as those who Affect to be Popular, only by having it in their Power to do Good, tho' it is never in their Natures. A Free, Easy Conversation, a Pleasant Temper, and a Readiness to Oblige a Friend, in Every Thing that a Man is able; are Qualities, which will Eternally Render such a one Happy Himself, and all those Happy who know him.  
That you Possess these, every body, of your Acquaintance, must Confess; tho' no Man has had more Temptation than you to Accuse his Stars, and consequently to be always out of Humour, and Help to make your Friends as uneasy as Himself; as I have known some Persons, with whom the World, being with Justice disgusted, endeavour to make those they Converse with, as wretched as themselves, in their perpetual Spleen and Vexation. The Persecution of a Father is sufficient to give a Man an Ill Opinion of Mankind in General; but, as yours is no more your Relation, than the Law of Nations has made him, you have Learned to Treat him with the same Indifference his Ill Practices have acquired from the rest of the World: A Man must have a great deal of Good Nature, that can stand out against the Injustice and Oppression of those, who, in Duty, are bound to Protect him. But there are some Men, so Awkard in their Wicked Actions, that they make themselves Ridiculous, when they aim at being Dreadful; and, like the Person you deal with, provoke Pity rather than Terror. Folly being generally its own punishment: and those that aim at Ruining another, seldom fail of destroying themselves. I would not say so much of this in so open a place, but that I believe there are many Labouring under the same Inconvenience, who have not heart to Disengage themselves so well as you, from the Troubles of a Married Life and a Family; and, to appear as Gay, in the midst of Disappointments, as if you were the Master of your Vows and Fortune. I beg you to accept this Present, as a Hearty Return for the many Civilities I have Received from you: and, since 'tis much more Shakespears than Mine, to make it a part of your Diversion, in the Long Retirement of a Vacation.  
I am, Sir, Your Humble Servant.   

THE PROLOGUE,  By Mr. OLDMIXON. Spoken by Mr. Betterton. 
TO please this Winter, we all Means have used;  
Old Plays have been Revived, and New Produced.  
But you, it seems, by Us, would not be Served;  
And others Thrive, while we were almost Starved.  
Our House you daily shunned, yet Theirs you Crammed,  
And Flocked to see the very Plays you Damned.  
In vain you Praised our Action, and our Wit;  
The best Applause is in a Crowded Pit.  
In vain you said, you did their Farce despise;  
Wit won the Bays, but Farce the Golden Prize.  
But that next Year, we may with them, be even,  
We these Instructions to our Bards have given.  
First bid Defiance to all Sense and Rules;  
We Live not by the Critics, but the Fools.  
Let Noise for Wit, and Whim for Humour pass,  
And rise an Actor from some New Grimace.  
No more let Laboured Scenes, with Pain, be Wrought,  
What least is wanting in a Play, is Thought.  
Let neither Dance, nor Music be forgot,  
Nor Scenes, no matter for the Sense, or Plot.  
Such things we own in Shakespears days might do;  
But then his Audience did not Judge like you.  
Good Sense was well received from Honest Ben;  
While none would suffer Flecknoes' Irish Pen.  
Yet, in his Son, Sleeping Monarch Reigns,  
And dreadful War, with Wit and Sense, Maintains.  
Study the Smithfield-Bards, and him, with care;  
Like those write Nonsense, and, like these, you'll fare.  
By this you may, the Towns Resentment sooth;  
Or, you must Starve, and we shut up our Booth. [Going, Comes Back:  
Hold; I forgot the Business of the Day;  
No more than this, We, for ourselves, need Say,  
'Tis Purcels Music, and 'tis Shakespears Play.   

The Epilogue. Shakespeare's GHOST, Spoken by Mr. Verbruggen,  By the Same. 
ENough ' your Cruelty Alive I knew;  
And must I Dead be Persecuted too?  
Injured so much of late upon the Stage,  
My Ghost can bear no more; but comes to Rage.  
My Plays, by Scribblers, Mangled I have seen;  
By Lifeless Actors Murdered on the Scene.  
Fat Falstaff here, with Pleasure, I beheld,  
Toss off his Bottle, and his Truncheon wield:  
Such as I meant him, such the Knight appeared;  
He Bragged like Falstaff, and, like Falstaff, feared.  
But when, on yonder Stage, the Knave was shown  
Even by myself, the Picture scarce was known.  
Themselves, and not the Man I drew, they Played;  
And Five Dull Sots, of One poor Coxcomb, made.  
Hell! that on you such Tricks as these should pass,  
Or I be made the Burden of an Ass!  
Oh! if Machbeth, or Hamlet ever pleased,  
Or Desdemona e'er your Passions raised;  
If Brutus, or the Bleeding Caesar e'er  
Inspired your Pity, or provoked your Fear,  
Let me no more endure such Mighty Wrongs,  
By Scribblers Folly, or by Actors Lungs.  
So, late may Betterton for sake the Stage,  
And long may Barry Live to Charm the Age.  
May a New Otway Rise, and Learn to Move  
The Men with Terror, and the Fair with Love!  
Again, may Congreve, try the Commic Strain;  
And Wycherly Revive his Ancient Vein:  
Else may your Pleasure prove your greatest Curse;  
And those who now Write dully, still Write worse.   

Measure for Measure, etc.  

ACT. I.  

SCENE I. A Large HALL. in the Palace.  On one Side Enter Lucio. On the other Balthazar. Lucio. 
WHat, Balthasar Returned from the Wars?  Bal. 
Even as you see, Friend Lucio, spite of Bullets  
Now Mars is gone to take a Nap till Spring;  
I, that hate Idleness, seek other Warfare:  
Love, Love, my Lucio, Love; this Winter Season  
Will find me Work; and, if there are, in Turin,  
But Eyes, of any Colour, Blue, Grace, Black,  
My Courage will Attack 'em.  Luc. 
Hold! my Friend:  
You that go a Volunteering to the Wars,  
And rather than not Fight, seek Foreign Quarrels,  
When your own Prince has none, must go seek Love  
In other Countries too, if you'd be safe.  Balth. 
Safe? sure there are yet some Sound in Turin.  Luc. 
Oh! you mistake me, Sir; but were there none,  
You might Compound that Mischief for some Pain:  
At worst, but pay a Limb: but, as things go,  
Your Neck, or nothing, Signior, now will do.  Balth. 
Prithee be plain.  Luc. 
Why thus it is then, mind me;  
Our Duke is gone, Incognito, to Travel.  Bal. 
That I have heard: And that Lord Angelo  
Is left his Deputy.  Luc. 
Right, Sir; And whether  
The Novelty of Power thus turns his Brain:  
Or, that the Body-Politic's a Horse,  
Rid by the Governor; who, newly seated,  
Lets it straight feel the Spur, that it may know  
He can Command; I'll not decide; but he  
Awakes those Drowsy and Neglected Laws,  
Whose Grinding Penaltys has made 'em Sleep  
These Nineteen years, to get himself a Name.  Balth. 
What's that to Love, Friend Lucio?  Luc. 
Be Patient:  
And know, Lord Angelo's a Man; whose Blood  
Is very Snow-Broth: one, who never feels  
The wanton Stings, and Motions of the Senses,  
He, from those Laws, has now picked out an Act  
That Dooms Unlicensed Love t'immediate Death.  Bal. 
Death! there's a Law, sure 'twas made by Eunuchs▪  Luc. 
No, no by Old State-Cuckolds, formal Hypocrites,  
And Unperforming Husbands.  Bal. 
Sure 'tis for Terror,  
And empty Threats alone that he has roused it.  
He has made no New Examples, has he yet?  Duc. 
I cannot say there yet is one dispatched;  
But every Prison in the Town is full  
Of Bawds, Pimps, and Whoring Soldiers, like yourself, Sir.  
And Claudio, so famed for every Noble Virtue,  
That proves him worthy his Illustrious Race;  
Young, Brave, and Learned, tho' he is a Noble Man.  
This Claudio, I say, stands now Condemned  
Upon this Act, and must to Morrow Dye.  Balth. 
You sure but Rally; Pray be Serious.  Luc. 
Why this is known to all the City,  
How could it miss your Ears?  Balth. 
I just Alighted, and came to Pay my Court to the Deputy.  Luc. 
This is a certain Truth, and all his Friends  
Have been Repulsed; nay, the Lord Escalus,  
The next in Dignity to himself, has Sued,  
In vain, for Claudio's Pardon.  Bal. 
If 'tis so,  
How can this Sour Governor be pleased?  
With Music, Show, and Operas; those  
Seldom please, where Cruelty presides:  
And yet, since I have come into the Palace,  
I've heard the Tuning of various Instruments,  
And the trolling of soft Melodious Voices.  Luc. 
Those the Good Escalus prepared,  
In hopes to Melt, and sweeten his Sour Temper;  
That when the Power of Harmony prevails,  
His Soul may relish Mercy, more than Justice,  
For so he calls th' Extremes of this Wild Law.  
But that he may not tire him with this Music,  
He divides the Entertainment into Four.  
But see they come.  Enter Angelo, Escalus and Attendants. Ang. 
We must not make a Scarecrow of the Law,  
Setting it up to Fright the Birds of Prey,  
Till Custom make it their Perch, and not their Terror.  Esca. 
Let it be Keen, and rather Cut a little,  
Than fall, and bruise to death: Alas, this Gentleman,  
Whom I would Save, had a most Noble Father;  
And has, himself, performed most Noble Deeds  
To serve his Country, and declares he's Married.  Ang. 
He that contemns his Countries Laws, Sir, loses  
His fairest best Pretence of serving her:  
For Passions more, than Virtue, oft Inspire  
Hot Youth to signalise themselves in War.  
Then for his vain Pretence of Marriage, 'tis  
An Old, a Common Trick, t'evade the Laws:  
Or, if 'twere true, it was so Clandestine,  
That it deserves the Fate He now shall meet.  
What shall I say to Julietta's Friends?  
Whose Injured Honour calls upon my Justice.  Esca. 
Whose base Hypocrisy conceals their Malice,  
Under that Name: They would not press you thus,  
Did they not hope, by Claudio's Death, to save  
Julietta's Wealthy Fortune for themselves.  
Since the same Law, that Dooms the Man to Death,  
Condemns the Woman, after Public Penance,  
To end her Life within a Monastery.  Ang. 
No more, good Escalus; nor let your Friendship  
Betray you to abuse the Pious Pedro.  Esca. 
Set but yourself then in Claudio's Place;  
Love, Opportunity, Consent, and Boiling Youth,  
Have they not, in your Time, at least Alarmed you?  
If not Compelled you to the like Transgression?  Ang. 
'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,  
Another thing to fall: 'tis no Excuse  
For his Transgression, that I have my Failings;  
Yet, when I fail so, so let me be Sentenced.  
Ha! Belthazar! I saw you not, How long Arrived?  Bal. 
But just alighted, Sir; for my Duty,  
To kiss your Hands, forbid Delays of Dress.  Ang. 
'Tis well; no Flattery.  Enter Servant. Seru. 
My Lord, here is  
Count Claudio's Sister, designs Access.  Ang. 
Admit her— his Sister Escalus, if  
I mistake not, left without a Fortune;  
Tho' Beautiful, and Young; designs to spend  
Her Life in the Blessed Refuge of a Cloister.  Esca. 
She does my Lord; but e'er she go, I hope  
She may do this Good Deed, to save her Brother.  Ang. 
Do you then think my Purposes, like womens',  
To be dissolved by Whining Prayers and Tears?  Enter Isabel. 
She's Beautiful indeed. Your Will, fair Maid?  Isa. 
I am a Mournful Suitor to your Grace,  
If you'll vouchsafe to hear me.  Ang. 
Well; Your Suit?  Isa. 
I have a Brother that's Condemned to Die.  
I do beseech you, let it be his Fault,  
And not Himself.  Esca. 
Heaven give thee moving Graces.  Ang. 
Condemn the Fault, and yet the Actor spare;  
Why every Fault's condemned e'er it be done.  
Mine were the very cipher of a Function,  
To fine the Faults, whose Fines stand on Record;  
And set the Actor Free.  Isa. 
But, Sir, my Brother  
Is by Misfortune, more than Guilt, betrayed  
To the hard Censure of the Law. He's Married,  
But wanting Witness of the Holy Contract,  
The Blind Dead Letter claims him as a Forfeit.  Ang. 
Be not deceived with vain pretence of Virtue;  
How easy 'tis for Criminals to escape,  
If we Believe but what they dare Assert.  Isa. 
Allow us Time then but to send to France,  
For the Good Father that he Names.  Ang. 
Delays,  
Are what he seeks to avoid the Stroke,  
By some Sinister means. No; he must Die.  Isa. 
Must he needs die?  Ang. 
There is no Remedy.  Isa. 
Yes; I believe that you might Pardon him,  
And neither Heaven nor Man Grieve at the Mercy.  Ang. 
I will not do't.  Isa. 
You can then if you would.  Ang. 
That which I should not do, I cannot do.  Isa. 
You may, Sir, do it, and not wrong the World.  
Oh! that the softness of my Heart were yours.  Ang. 
He's sentenced, 'tis too late.  Esca. 
You are too cold.  Isa. 
Too late! I who have spoke a Word may call  
The meaning back; no Ceremony,  
No Ornament, that to the great belongs;  
Not the King's Crown, nor the deputed Sword:  
The Marshal's Truncheon, or the Judge's Robe,  
Becomes them with so beautiful a Grace,  
As Mercy does. If he had been as you,  
And you as he, you might have erred like him,  
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.  Ang. 
Ha! my Soul! how near she strikes on Truth. [aside.  
I pray begone.  Isa. 
Oh! that you were Isabel Suing,  
And I invested with your Power, you soon  
Should see the Sorrow of a Sister's Tears  
Should cleanse the foulness of a Brother's fault.  Esca. 
That's the Vein, touch it boldly, Madam.  Ang. 
He's forfeit to the Law, you lose your time.  Isa. 
Alas! alas! all Souls were forfeit once,  
And he that might the vantage best have took,  
Found out the Remedy. What would you do,  
If he, who on the utmost top of Heights,  
On Judges sits, should judge you as you are.  Ang. 
Be you content, fair Maid, it is the Law,  
Not I, condemns him, if he were my Son  
He died to morrow.  Isa. 
To morrow! he's not prepared, spare, oh! spare him▪  
Let Mercy speak, Oh! give him time, the Guilty  
In this are Numerous, yet none have died.  
And if he must, Oh! let him die Prepared.  Ang. 
That none have died, has made the Law contemned▪  
The Number of Offenders had been less  
Had the first suffered.  Isa. 
My Brother has some Plea,  
For he is Married; not like others Guilty,  
Save in Appearance.  Ang. 
The Law only Judges  
Of things as they appear, and then he's guilty.  Isa. 
You should instruct the Law: Oh! show some Pity.  Ang. 
I show it most of all when I show Justice,  
For than I pity those I do not know,  
When Pardoned Crimes, might teach 'em to offend,  
Be satisfied your Brother dies to morrow.  Isa. 
So you must be the first that gives this Sentence,  
And he the first that suffers.  Esca. 
That's well urged.  Isa. 
If Men could Thunder  
As great Jove does, we ne'er should be at quiet,  
For every Cholerik petty Officer  
Would use the Magazeen of Heaven for Thunder;  
Nothing but Thunder: Oh! Merciful Heaven!  
Thou rather with thy sharp and Sulphurous Bolt,  
Dost split the Knotty and Obdurate Oak,  
Than the soft Myrtle. Oh! but Man, Proud Man,  
(Dressed in a little Brief Authority,  
Most ignorant of what he thinks himself  
Assured) In his frail Glasly Essence, like  
An Angry Ape, plays such Fantastic Tricks,  
Before High Heaven, as would make Angels laugh,  
If they were Mortal, and had Spleens like us.  Esca. 
To him, he will relent, I find him coming.  Ang. 
Why show you all this Passion before me?  Isa. 
Authority, tho' it may err like others,  
Yet has a kind of Medicine in its self  
That skin's the top of Vice; knock at your Bosom,  
And ask your Heart, Sir, if it knows no Crime  
That's like my Brothers, if it does, then let it  
Ne'er give Sentence from your Tongue against his Life.  Ang. 
Ha! She speaks such pointed Truths, that wounds  
My guilty Soul,— farewell.  [going. Isa. 
Ha, my Lord turn back.  Ang. 
I will consider— come again anon.  Esca. 
Away, enough.  Isa. 
All Blessings on your Excellence.  
At what hour shall I attend you, Sir?  Ang. 
Soon as the Opera is over.  [Exit. Isa. 
Angels Preserve you.  Ang. 
From thee— even from thy Virtue.  
What's this I feel? Is it her fault or mine?  
The Tempter, or the Tempted? Who sins most? Ha! [Aside.  
Not She; nor does She Tempt, but it is I,  
That lying by the Vlolet, in the Sun,  
Corrupt, like Carrion, by his friendly Beams,  
But Ripen not like the Flower into Sweets.  Esca. 
He's grown Thoughtful, I hope he's won.  Ang. 
Can Virtue win us more to Vicè, than Vice?  
Oh! fie! fie! fie! What dost thou Angelo?  
Is it her Virtue, that thou lov'st? oh! no!  
Thou false and deluding Guide, who in Disguise  
Of Virtue's shape, lead'st us through Heaven to Hell!  
No Vicious Beauty could with Practised Art, [aside.  
Subdue my Heart like Virgin Innocence.  
I'll think no more on't, but with Music chase  
Away the Guilty Image.  
Music they say can Calm the ruffled Soul,  
I'm sure a mighty Tempest ruffles mine.  
My Lord, if your Diversions now are ready  
I am disposed to see 'em.  Esc. 
Please you to sit, they wait but your Command.  Luc. 
Begin the Opera, the Deputy attends.  They all sit The LOVES of Dido and AEneas, a MASK, in Four MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENTS. 
The First Entertainment.  
Enter QUEEN DIDO, Belinda, and Train.  
Belinda SINGS.  Bel. 
SHake the Cloud from off your Brow,  
Fate your Wishes does Allow;  
Empire Growing,  
Pleasures Flowing;  
Fortune Smiles, and so should you,  
Shake the Cloud from off your Brow.  Cho. 
Banish Sorrow, Banish Care,  
Grief should ne'er approach the Fair.  Dido. 
Ah! Belinda I am pressed,  
With Torment not to be Confessed:  
Peace and I are strangers grown,  
I languish till my Grief is known,  
Yet would not have it Guest.  Bel. 
Grief Increasing, by Concealing.  Dido. 
Mine admits of no Revealing.  Bel. 
Then let me speak, the Trojan guest,  
Into your Tender Thoughts has pressed.  2 Woman. 
The greatest Blessing Fate can give,  
Our Carthage to secure, and Troy revive.  Cho. 
When Monarchs unite, how happy their State.  
They Triumph at once o'er their Foes and their Fate.  Dido. 
Whence could so much Virtue Spring,  
What Storms, what Battles did he Sing,  
Anchises Valour mixed with Venus' Charms,  
How soft in Peace, and yet how fierce in Arms.  Bel. 
A Tale so strong and full of Woe,  
Might melt the Rocks as well as you.  2 Woman. 
What stubborn Heart unmoved could see,  
Such Distress, without Pity,  Dido. 
Mine with Storms of Care oppressed,  
Is Taught to wtihout the Distress.  
Mean Wretch's grief can Touch,  
So soft so sensible my Breast.  
But ah! I fear, I pity his too Much.  Bel. and then the Cho. 
Fear no Danger to ensue,  
The Hero Loves as well as you;  
Ever Gentle, ever Smiling,  
And the Cares of Life beguiling.  
Cupid's strew your path with Flowers,  
Gathered from Elysian Bowers,  Dance to this Cho. Enter AEneas with his Train. Bel. 
See your Royal Guest appears,  
How Godlike is the form he bears,  AEn. 
When Royal fair shall I be blessed,  
With cares of Love, and state Distressed.  Dido. 
Fate forbids what you Pursue,  AEn. 
AEneas has no Fate but you,  
Let Dido Smile, and I'll defy,  
The feeble stroke of Destiny.  Cho. 
Cupid only Throws the Dart,  
That's Dreadful to a warrior's Heart;  
And she that wounds can only cure the Smart,  AEn. 
If not for mine, for Empire's Sake,  
Some pity on your Lover take.  
Ah! make not, in a hopeless Fire,  
A Hero fall, and Troy once more Expire,  Bel. 
Pursue thy Conquest, Love— her Eyes,  
Confess the Flame her Tongue denies,  Cho. 
To the Hills and the Vales, to the Rocks and the Mountains,  
To the Musical Groves, and the cool shady Fountains,  
Let the Triumph of Love and of Beauty be shown,  
Go Revel ye Cupid's the Day is your own.  The Triumphing Dance. Ang. 
This Music is no Cure for my Distemper;  
For, every Note, to my Enchanted Ears,  
Seemed to Sing only. Isabella's Beauty,  
Her Youth, her Beauty, and her Tender Pity  
Combine to ruin me! Ha! Dost thou then  
Desire her foully? Let her Brother Live.  
Thiefs, for their Robbery, have Authority,  
When Judges steal themselves. Then I do Love her,  
That I desire to hear her Speak again:  
Her Tongue, alas! will but Increase my Pain:  
Strange Witchery of Love.  
We are uneasy with its raging Fire;  
Yet seek the Object to increase Desire,  
Whose Fury else, would, of itself, Expire.  
The End of the First ACT.    

ACT II.  

SCENE I. A ROOM in the Palace.  Enter Angelo Alone. Ang. 
WHen I would Pray, and Think; I Think, and Pray  
To several Objects! Heaven has my empty Words,  
But Isabel Engrosses all my Thoughts.  
Affairs of State, of late my Darling Study,  
Are, like a Good Thing often Read, grown Tedious:  
And, my Vain Gravity, I've been so proud of,  
I now could change for idle Plumes that Wanton  
In the Air; and like Gay Youthful Dress.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
The Sister, Sir, of Claudio, desires Access.  Ang. 
Show her the way. O! Heaven! Why does my Blood  
Thus muster to my Heart, making it unable  
To execute its Office, and robbing other parts  
Of what, in lesser streams, thèy would make useful.  
So deal officious Throngs, with him that Swoons;  
They Flock to help him, but stop up the Air,  
With which he should Revive: And so,  
The Numerous Subjects of a King Beloved,  
Quit their own Home, and, with Rude Fondness, Press me  
Into his Presence; where their Untaught Love  
Must needs appear Offensive.  Enter Isabel. Ang. 
Well Isabel.  Isa. 
I'm come to know your Pleasure.  Ang. 
That you did know it, would much better Please me,  
Than to Demand what 'tis. Your Brother Dies.  Isa. 
If he must Die, then I've no more to say.  Ang. 
Yet he may live awhile, nay, as long as  
You or I, yet must he die.  Isa. 
Under your Sentence?  Ang. 
Yes.  Isa. 
When I Beseech you? that in his Reprieve,  
(Longer or Shorter) he may be so fitted,  
That his Soul may not Suffer with his Body.  Ang. 
And yet it were as good to Pardon him,  
That has, from Nature, Stolen a Man already  
Made, as to permit their Saucy Sweetness;  
Who Coin Heaven's Image in a Stamp forbidden.  Isa. 
That is set down in Heaven but not on Earth.  Ang. 
How? say you so? then I shall quickly Pose you.  
Which had you rather, that your Brother die,  
By this Just Law? or else, to save his Life,  
Give up yourself to the same Blemish,  
That she now suffers, whom your Brother Stained.  Isa. 
I'd rather give my Body then my Soul.  Ang. 
I Talk not of your Soul; our compelled sins  
Stand more for Number, than Account.  Isa. 
How, Sir?  Ang. 
Nay, I'll not warrant that; but Answer me.  
I (now the Voice of the Recorded Law)  
Pronounce the Sentence on your Brother's Life.  
Might there not be a Charity in Sin  
To save that Life?  Isa. 
If to Pardon him be Sin,  
Heaven, let me bear it! It shall be my Prayer,  
To have it added to my Fanlts, not yours.  Ang. 
Nay, but mind me; your Sense pursues not mine;  
` Or you're Ignorant, or Craftily would seem so;  
And that's not good. Then mark me, Isabel;  
I'll speak more plain— Your Brother is to Die.  Isa. 
True.  Ang. 
Admit no other way to save his Life,  
(Nor subscribe I that, but by way of Question)  
But the Surrender of your Youth and Beauty  
To the Embraces of a Man, whose power  
With me his Judge, could free him from this Danger▪  
What would you do?  Isa. 
For him, as for myself:  
Th' Impressions of sharp Whips, I'd wear as Rubys,  
And ship myself to Death, as to a Bed,  
E'er I would yield my Honour up to Shame.  Ang. 
Then must your Brother die.  Isa. 
And better 'twere that he should Die a while▪  
Then, for his Ransom, I should Die for ever.  Ang. 
Then are not you as Cruel as the Law,  
That you have Slandered so?  Isa. 
Lawful Mercy, Sir,  
Is not at all Akin to Foul Redemption.  Ang. 
We all are frail.  Isa. 
Else let my Brother die.  Ang. 
Nay— Women are frail too.  Isa. 
Yes, as the Glasses, where they View themselves.  
Women are soft, as their Complexions; easy  
To take a false Impression on their Credulous Minds.  Ang. 
I do Arrest your Words— Be what you are—  
That is, a Woman— If you're more, you're none.  
If you are one, as your Bright Form assures,  
Then show it now.  Isa. 
I understand you not.  Ang. 
Know then, I Love you.  Isa. 
My Brother Loved Julietta,  
And you've just told me he must die for it.  Ang. 
No: he shall live, if you'll reward my Love.  Isa. 
Securely from your Power you take a Licence,  
To seem what you are not, to fathom others.  Ang. 
Believe me, on my Honour, I do Love thee;  
Nor can I Live, unless thou make me happy.  Isa. 
My Lord, This is too Palpable.  Ang. 
By Heaven!  
By what I most Desire, thy Charming Self,  
Thy Words express my Purpose.  Isa. 
If, my Lord (you Love with Honour,) you will not deny  
That, I with Honour Ask.  Ang. 
Our Contest is  
On Empty Names, Grim Justice, and Stern Honour.  
Drive thou that Fantome from thy Downy Breast,  
And give a loose to more Substantial Joys.  
And I will Shackle up Destroying Justice,  
And give thy Brother his Requested Life.  Isa. 
I am Amazed.  Ang. 
How canst thou doubt thy Eyes,  
Whose warmth can melt Proud Virtue into Lust.  
Fire Ages Icy Winter, with Desires  
As Fierce, and Uncontoulable, as Youth.  
Behold me, Maid! ' Spite of my Rigid Nature,  
And the Acquiled Severity of Custom  
Befo e thy Eyes, grow soft, as Luxury;  
Intemperate, as thoughtless Libertines;  
And Rash, and Unadvised, as Youthful Love:  
Yes, Isabel, I that have Condemned thy Brother.  
ay, whom Law binds, to see him Suffer Death,  
Sell, for a Smile, my Fame, my Honour, Justice.  Isa. 
I will Proclaim thee, Angelo, look for't:  
Sign me a present Pardon for my Brother,  
Or, I will tell the World Aloud, what Man  
Thou art.  Ang. 
Who will believe you, Isabel?  
My Name Unsullied, and my Life Austere;  
My Word against you, and my Place i'th' State,  
Will stifle all your single Voice can Publish.  
And thus, secure, I give Desire the Reins;  
Yield to my Passion, or, your Brother shall  
Not only Die, but die in Burning Toments.  Isa. 
To whom shall I Complain? If I tell this,  
Who will believe me?  Ang. 
You have Considered right.  
This is a Day of Joy, our Good Duke's Birthday;  
And, in Compliance with Lord Escalus,  
I have Devoted it to Mirth and Pastime:  
And Love has given a taste of Harmony,  
Till now I knew not; If you will partake,  
Go with me to the Hall, where now they wait me  
It may disarm you of your froward Virtue,  
And make you relish Pleasure.  Isa. 
How ill Men  
Pervert most Heavenly things! No; I'll away,  
And bid my Brother for his Death Prepare.  Ang. 
Consider on it, and at Ten this Evening;  
If you'll comply, you'll meet me at the Opera.  [Exit Isa. 
Oh! let me fly from this deceitful World,  
To Virgin Cloisters, the Retreat of Truth,  
Where Arts of Men are banished from our Ears;  
Removed from all the Anxious Roads of Fears.  
But to m'expecting Brother first I'll go,  
And end his hopes on this false Angelo.  [Exit.  

SCENE II. Changes to the great Hall.  Enter Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, etc. Esc. 
MY Lord, I hope your Fair Petitioner  
At length prevails.  Ang. 
What, am I so ill known,  
To think I'd barter Justice for weak Prayers,  
Or sell the Laws for a fond Woman's Tears?  
I fear, my Lord, because I thus comply,  
To wear the Gaiety this day requires;  
Attend your Sports, and listen to your Music.  
You think my Soul Enervate! without force!  
That I am grown a Boy.  Esc. 
No, my good Lord,  
I have no cause to Censure what I seek,  
These shows, my Loyal Love prepared, and that  
You please to share 'em gives me double Joy,  
The Pleasure's Noble, as 'tis Innocent.  Ang. 
I do allow it— come let 'em begin.  The Second Entertainment. Belinda SINGS. Bel. 
THanks to these Lovesome Vales,  
These Desert Hills and Dales.  
Repeat this  Cho. 
So Fair the Game, so Rich the Sport,  
Diana's self might to these woods resort.  2 Wom. 
Oft she visits this loved Mountain,  
Oft she baths her in this Fountain.  
Here Actaeon met his Fate,  
Pursued by his own Hounds,  
And after Mortal Wounds,  
Discovered, Discovered, too too late.  AEn. 
Behold upon my bending Spear,  
A Monster's Head stands Bleeding,  
With Tusks far exceeding,  
Those did Venus' Huntsmen Tear.  Dido. 
The Skies are Clouded, hark, how Thunder [Thunder.  
Rends the Mountain Oaks asunder;  
Hast, hast to Town, this open Field,  
No shelter from the Storm can yield.  [Exit. The Spirit of the Sorceress descends to AEneas in likeness of Mercury. Spir. 
Stay Prince and hear great Jove's Command.  
He Summons thee this Night away.  AEn. 
To Night?  Spir. 
To Night thou must forsake this Land,  
The Angry God will brook no longer stay.  
Jove Commands thee, waste no more  
In Love's delights those Precious Hours,  
Allowed by the Almighty Powers,  
To gain the Hesperian shore,  
And Ruined Troy restore.  AEn. 
Jove's Commands shall be Obeyed,  
To Night our Anchors shall be weighed;  
But ha! What Language can I try,  
My injured Queen to pacify?  
No sooner she resigns her Heart,  
But from her Arms I'm forced to part.  
How can so hard a Fate be took,  
One Night Enjoyed, the next for sook?  
Yours be the Blame, ye Gods, for I,  
Obey your will— but with more ease could die.  
" Direct me, friends, what Choice to make,  
" Since Love and Fame together press me,  
" And with equal Force distress me.  
" Say what Party I shall take.  1 Fr. 
Resistless Jove Commands—  2 Fr. 
But Love  
More Resistless than Jove's.  AEn. 
But Fame Alcander.  2 Fr. 
Fame's a Bubble,  
Honour but a Glorious Trouble,  
A vain Pride of Destroying,  
Alarming and Arming,  
And Toiling and Moiling,  
And never Enjoying.  1 Fr. 
'Twas that gave Hector,  2 Fr. 
What?  1 Fr. 
Renown and Fame.  2 Fr. 
An empty Name,  
And Lunentable Fate.  1 Fr. 
'Twas Noble and Brave.  2 Fr. 
'Twas a Death for a Slave.  1 Fr. 
His Valour and Glory,  
Shall flourish in Story.  2 Fr. 
While he rots in his Grave.  AEn. 
Ye Sacred Powers instruct me how to choose,  
When Love or Empire I must lose.  AEn. & Cho. 
Love without Empire Trifling is and Vain,  
And Empire without Love a Pompous Pain,  Exeunt. Enter Sorceress and Witches. Cho. 
Then since our Charms have sped,  
A Merry Dance be led,  
By the Nymphs of Carthage to please us,  
They shall all Dance to ease us.  
A Dance that shall make the Spheres to Wonder,  
Rending those Fair Groves asunder.  The Grove Dance. The SCENE the Cave Rises. The Witches appear. Enter Sorceress. She SINGS. Sorc. 
WEyward Sisters, you that fright,  
The Lonely Traveller by Night;  
Who like Dismal Ravens Crying,  
Beat the Windows of the Dying.  
Appear at my Call▪ and share in the Fame,  
Of a Mischief shall make all Carthage Flame.  Enter Witch's. Witch. 
Say, Beldame, what's thy will?  Cho. 
Harms our Delight, and Mischief all our Skill.  Sorc. 
The Queen of Carthage, whom we hate,  
As we do all in Prosperous State,  
ere Sun set shall most Wretched prove,  
Deprived of Fame, of Life, and Love.  Cho. 
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, etc.  Witch. 
Ruined ere the set of Sun,  
Tell us how shall this be done?  Sorc. 
The Trojan Prince you know is bound,  
By Fate to seek Italian Ground;  
The Queen and he are now in Chase,  
Hark, the Cry comes on apace.  
But when they've done, my Trusty Elf,  
In Form of Mercury himself,  
As sent from Jove, shall Chide his stay,  
And charge him Sail to night with all his Fleet away.  Cho. 
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, etc.  Sorc. and Witch. 
But e'er we this perform,  
We'll Conjure for a Storm.  
To Mar their Hunting Sport,  
And drive 'em back to Court.  Echo. 
In our deep vaulted Cell the Charm we'll prepare,  
Too Dreadful a Practice for this open Air.  Echo Dance of Furies. At the end of the Dance Six Furies Sinks. The four open the Cave fly up. Ang. 
All will not do: All won't devert my Pain,  
The Wound enlarges by these Medicines,  
'Tis She alone can yield the Healing Balm.  
This Scene just hits my case; her Brother's danger,  
Is here the storm must furnish Blessed Occasion;  
And when, my Dido, I've Possessed thy Charms,  
I then will throw thee from my glutted Arms,  
And think no more on all thy soothing Harms.  Exit. SCENE Changes to the Prison. Enter Duke, dressed like a Friar, and with him Friar Thomas. Duk. 
THink not I've changed my Ducal Robes for these,  
Because I Love— no 'tis a cause more wrinkled  
Has made me assume this Habit, tho' your Duke.  
We have strict Statutes, and sharp Penal Laws,  
Which I have suffered Nineteen years to sleep,  
Even like an overgrown Lion, in a Cave,  
That goes not out to Prey. But as fond Fathers  
So long stick up the Rod for Terror, that  
The bold Child contemns it, so our Decrees,  
Dead to Infliction, to themselves are dead,  
And forward Liberty does Justice strike  
As Infants do the Nurse: Wherefore I have  
Fixed all my Power in Angelo, that he  
May wake these drowsy Laws to Execution.  Friar. 
Tied up Justice, Sir, you soon might lose;  
And 'twould more dreadful seem in you than Angelo.  Duke. 
Too dreadful, Sir, in me:— for since it was  
My fault to give the People so much Hope,  
It may seem Tyranny to punish them  
For what my own Permission bid them act:  
For Power that hinders not ill Deeds, commands them.  Friar. 
I am convinced.  Duke. 
I have on Angelo imposed  
Th' unpleasant Power of punishing; while I  
In this Disguise may visit Prince and People:  
And hear how both approve this means I've taken.  Friar. 
You find already how you've been mistaken  
In Angelo, you so long thought a Saint:  
And I am glad I've found this way to help  
The injured Mariana.  Duke. 
But that she told it  
In her Confession, I should yet doubt the Truth  
That Angelo is her true married Husband  
While he has made his false severity  
Bawd to his Fame, and Broker to his Vice  
Of Avarice. This makes me, Father,  
By your Assistance try to speak with Claudio,  
To sift, and know if what Report has spread,  
Be true, of his being married to Julietta.  Friar. 
'Twill not be difficult; because we always  
Go forth in Pairs, even to these Deeds of Goodness:  
But see the Provost.  Enter Provost. Duke. 
Hail to thee, Provost, so I think you are.  Prov. 
I am the Provost: What's your Will, good Fathers?  Friar. 
Bound by our Charity and holy Orders,  
We come to visit the afflicted Minds▪  
In Prison here; Do us the common Right  
To let us see 'em, and to tell their Crimes,  
That we may minister according to their nature.  Prov. 
I would do more than that if more were needful.  
This, Sir, is Claudio,  Enter Claudio. 
Who dies to morrow for uncertain Crimes,  
For Innocence that wants a Proof, is Guilt.  Duke. 
Must he then die?  Prov. 
I think to morrow.  
I'llleave him to your pious Exhortations.  Exit. Claud. 
There is no Rack so painful in this Prison,  
As that which stretches me 'twixt Hope and Doubt.  Duke. 
Blessings on you, Son, I've heard your Fortune:  
And as the Duty of my Orders bid me,  
I would exhort you to a true Repentance.  Claud. 
O Fathers, I rejoice at your Arrival:  
For it will ease me of my greatest Pain.  Duke. 
This pious Disposition's a good Sign  
That you repent the Sin that brought you hither.  Claud. 
'Twas not my Sin, but Folly brought me hither:  
And yet it was a Sin to wish for aught  
Beyond Possession of so pure a Virtue.  
You say yovare no Stranger to my Story:  
You than have heard too of a Lady's Sufferings,  
Which I through Avarice, alas, have caused.  
That, that, my Fathers, is the Sin that racks me;  
That haunts my Conscience; and that only you  
Can e'er appease: For oh! a Lady's Honour  
And lost for me, is a more cruel Murder,  
Than if I'd ta'en her Life.  Duke. 
Have Comfort, Son; for Heaven,  
Indulgent to our Frailty, is content  
To take our Penitence, if it be true,  
For our Transgressions.  Claud. 
Oh! Heaven is merciful;  
Because 'tis wise and just, and knows our Sorrows:  
But Man by Ignorance, jealous of our Hearts,  
Or else by his own Passions, led from Goodness,  
Still deviates from the beauteous Paths of Mercy,  
And seldom keeps the noble Tracks of Justice.  
Oh, hear me then: I look on you as Heaven:— [Kneels.  
(For we are taught you represent high Heaven  
By Delegation too possess its Power of Mercy)  
My Birth was Noble, tho' my Fortune small,  
Which is a Clog upon a generous Soul,  
That might excuse the Caution that I used,  
When to secure the mighty Dower of Julut  
I married her in private.  Duke. 
Then are you married?  Claud. 
I call all Heaven to witness that we are▪  
A Father of your Order joined our Hands.  Friar. 
His Name, my Son.  Claud. 
'Twas Father Pierre, not long  
Returned to France to his own Monastery,  
I've writ to him; but the too cruel Deputy,  
Pressed by the barbarous Avarice of Pedro,  
Will not expect his Answer.  Duke. 
Rise up, my Son.  Claud. 
No, my good Father, till I have your Promise  
To justify immediately Julietta's Honour.  Duke. 
We promise our Endeavour, Sir, to do it.  Claud. 
Avouch it as my dying Oath, by all  
My Hopes of Happiness hereafter, [Rises.  
She is my Wife. There being a doubtful Clause  
In her Father's Will in favour of this Pedro,  
Her Guardian, we concealed our Wedding,  
Till being out of his Wardship, and possessed  
Of all her Fortune, she might own it  
Without so great a Hazard. But oh! that  
He had taken all, had she but escaped  
This hateful Scandal, that I'm sure must torture  
Her nice and virtuous Soul.  Duke. 
Who is this Pedro?  Claud. 
The Deputy's Privado, his Right-hand;  
One that by well-acted Piety has gained  
Trusts from believing Friends that think him honest  
To ruin their Children, and enrich himself.  
And thus he hopes by pushing on my Death,  
To have her too on the same Law confined  
Within a Cloyster's Walls during her Life,  
And so secure himself her wealthy Dower.  Duke. 
Son, Put your trust in Heaven, that can relieve  
When least you hope it, I'll do my endeavour  
To help your Fortune; but if my power's too small  
T' assist in that, I will still help your Soul.  Claud. 
I thank you, Fathers, and desire your Prayers.  [Exit. Duke. 
I am confirmed he's innocent of this,  
Tho' his most watchful Foe has taken this time  
To make him suffer: Enter Provost and Julietta.  
But who is this?  Prov. 
The Lady, Sir, with Child by Claudio,  
But by strict Order of the Deputy confined  
From farther Commerce with him; Your Advice  
May steed her much, good Fathers.  Duke. 
Repent, you Fair One, of the Sin you carry.  jul. 
I do repent me of my Sins, good Father:  
But sure the Blessings of the Marriage-bed  
Can be no Sin.  Duke. 
You may amuse yourself▪  
With the firm Vows of him you call your Husband,  
His secret Contracts and his plighted Faith:  
But these, my Daughter, will not salve the Sin:  
They're oft the giddy Rashness of hot Youth,  
Which it repents, and breaks without a Pang.  jul. 
'Tis true, I am a Woman frail and ignorant▪  
But yet my Honour and Religion joined,  
Have taught me the full Knowledge of this Point;  
And we are married with all those holy Rites  
The Church ordains: The pious Father Pierre  
Of your good Order, joined our Hands in private:  
'Tis true, for worldly Cause, and for that Fault  
I take this Shame most patiently.  Duke. 
Can you forgive the Cause of this your Infamy?  
Can you love still the Man that seems t'o've wronged you?  jul. 
Yes, as I love the Woman that wronged him,  
That has undone him, taken away his Life.  
O Heaven! prevent his Fate, or take me too.  Duke. 
Resign yourself to Heaven: If you're Innocent,  
Be sure of Help. We'll to your Partner.  [Benedicite. [Exit with the Friar. jul. 
Must die to morrow! Oh, injurious Love!  
That dost the Life of my sad Life remove,  
Yet doom'st me still to agonizing Breath,  
And barrest me from the sweet Retreat of Death!  
O, Heaven! my Claudio to these Arms restore;  
Or, when he dies, O let me be no more!  
The End of the Second Act.    

ACT III.  

SCENE I. The Prison.  Enter Duke, Friar, and Claudio. Duke. 
THAN you still hope a Pardon from Lord Angelo?  Claud. 
The Miserable have no Ease but Hope.  
I hope to live; but am prepared to die.  Duke. 
Be absolute for Death, for Death or Life  
Will so the sweeter be— if you lose Life,  
You lose a thing, that none but fools would keep:  
A Breath that's subject to a thousand chances,  
That hourly pains even us that would preserve it.  
We are deaths Fools, whom while we strive to shun  
We hasten to; Cowards, we fear the tender fork  
Of a poor Worm; the best of Rest is Sleep;  
That we provoke, though grossly fear our Death,  
Which is no more.  Fry. 
Happy we're not,  
For what we've not we vainly strive to gain,  
And what we have, forget; tho' rich we're poor,  
For like an Ass, whose Back with Ingots bows,  
We bear our heavy Riches but a Journey,  
And Death unlades us.  Duke. 
Friends we've none:  
Our very Offspring cursing our Distempers  
For ending us no sooner. We have not Youth nor Age,  
But as it were an after Dinners sleep  
Dreaming upon both; Youth has no thought,  
And Age no heat or taste to relish Life.  
Yet Life we cherish that's thus filled with woe;  
But fear kind Death that makes these odds all even.  Clau. 
To sue to live, I find I seek to die,  
And seeking Death find Life.  Enter Isabel. Isa. 
Peace here, and Grace.  Duke. 
That wish deserves a Welcome.  Clau. 
My Sister.  Duke. 
E'er long, my Son, again I'll see you.  Clau. 
Most holy Sir, I thank you.  Duke. 
Father Thomas,  
Let us retire, I would concealed orehear 'em.  Clau. 
Well Sister, what's the Comfort?  [Exit with Friar. Isa. 
Why as all worldly Comforts use to be  
Lord Angelo having Affairs to heaven,  
Intends you for his swift Ambassador;  
Therefore your best appointment make with speed,  
To morrow you set out.  Claud. 
Is there no Remedy?  Isa. 
Yes, Brother, you may live.  
There is a devilish mercy in the Judge,  
That will if you'll implore it, free your Life.  
But fetter you till Death.  Claud. 
Perpetual durance?  Isa. 
'tis worse, more painful too, than Racks and Tortures,  
For 'tis a rack of Mind.  Clau. 
But of what Nature?  Isa. 
'Tis such, as should you give it your consent,  
Would leave you stripped of all your wreaths of War,  
And show you naked to the scornful World.  Clau. 
Let me know my Doom.  Isa. 
If I could fear thee Claudio, I should weep,  
Lest thou a shameful life shouldst now prefer,  
And six or seven short Winters more respect,  
Than a perpetual Honour. Dar'st thou die?  
The sense of Death is most in Apprehension,  
And the small Beetle when we tread on it  
In corporal Sufferance, finds a pang as great,  
As when a Giant dies.  Clau. 
Why give you me this shame?  
Think you I can Resolution fetch  
From flowing tenderness? If I must die,  
I'll welcome Darkness as a shining Bride,  
And hug it in my Arms.  Isa. 
There spoke my Brother, there my Father's Grave  
Sent forth a cheerful Voice, yes, you must die;  
Thou art too Noble, to preserve thy Life  
By such base means. This outward rigid Saint,  
Does in his gracious Looks disguise the Devil.  
His filth within being cast, he would appear  
A pond as foul as Hell.  Clau. 
What Angelo?  Isa. 
Oh! he is uglier, than a Fiend confessed:  
Speak Claudio, could you think it, you may live  
If to his Lust I'd Sacrifice my Honour.  Clau. 
Impossible! it cannot be!— Hypocrite.  Isa. 
Yes, he that would not hear your Innocence,  
Would quit you now of the most horrid Guilt,  
Give you a Licence to Sin on securely,  
Would I consent to be more black than he is.  
This Night's the time that he would have me do,  
What I abhor to name, or else you die  
To Morrow.  Clau. 
By Heaven thou shalt not do it.  Isa. 
Oh! were it but my Life, dear Claudio,  
I'd throw it down for your Deliverance,  
Without the least delay.  Clau. 
Thanks my Dear Sister.  Isa. 
Since nothing but my Honour can Redeem you,  
Prepare to die to Morrow.  Clau. 
Ha!— to Morrow?  
But Isabel!  Isa. 
What says my Brother?  Clau. 
Death is a fearful thing!  Isa. 
But Infamy more hateful.  
Sure you have studied what it is to die.  Clau. 
Oh! Sister, 'tis to go we know not whither;  
To lie a kneaded Clod in the dark Grave,  
And have this sensible warm motion end.  
Or rotting get another of crawling Worms;  
That springs from every part of our Corruption.  
The Spirit perhaps must bathe in fiery Floods,  
Or shiver in shrilling Regions of ribbed Ice:  
Or be imprisoned in the viewless Winds;  
And blown with restless Violence round about  
This pendant World, or if condemned like those  
Whom our uncertain Thoughts imagine howling.  
Oh! 'tis too horrible, and the most loathed Life,  
That Age or Ache, or Want, or Imprisonment  
Can lay on Nature is a Paradise,  
To what we fear of Death.  Isa. 
Alas! alas!  Clau. 
Ah! My Dear Sister, I would live!  Isa. 
Ha! Live d'ye say? O you base one!  
O! faithless Coward, O dishonest Wretch,  
Wilt thou be made a Man out of my Vice?  
Is't not a kind of Incest to take Life  
From thy own Sister's shame? But sure thou art not  
My Brother! die, Perish, if but my word  
Would save thy loathsome Life, I would not speak it.  
I'll pay a thousand Prayers for thy Deaths,  
But not a word to save thee.  Clau. 
But hear me.  Isa. 
Oh! Fie! fie! fie! how can I think thou art Innocent?  Clau. 
Your over-nicety of Honour feeds  
Your fancy with strange ugly forms,  
That have no real Existence;  
But by excess of Virtue you offend.  
I said indeed, that I would Live, what then?  
Is't not the Voice of Nature that abhors  
The fatal Separation? Then where's the Crime?  Isa. 
None but in living by a Crime.  Claud. 
You're right; but eagerly you cut off halfmy Words,  
Which had employed that Truth: No,— my Sister,—  
I have no thoughts of living on your Ruin.  
My Honour's not so shrunk with my low Fortune;  
And what I had to add, was for my juliet,  
That if you e'er did love your hapless, Brother,  
Have any share in our dead Mother's Pity;  
You'd take the tender Mourner to your Bosom,  
And comfort her sad Soul for my Misfortunes.  Isa. 
First, I must ask your Pardon, injured Claudio,  
For this Offence of Jealousy of Honour.  
And now I do most solemnly assure thee,  
I will invite her to my Breast within  
A Cloistered Shade, where we with mutual Grief,  
Will mourn in sad Remembrance your Loss.  Claud. 
O! rather teach her to forget that Loss.  
Remembrance will keep her Griefs still waking,  
Bear her this fatal Pledge of our first Vows. [Gives a Ring.  
Tell her how hard I think the Tyrant's Will,  
That will not let us take our last Farewell:  
Tell her, I have no Pang to leave this World,  
But that of leaving her: That fond Desire  
Of her, so heavy sits upon my Soul  
It clogs its Pinions, and retards its Flight.  
Tell her;— But oh! I never should have done,  
Should I pursue the Dictates of my Heart;  
Which, oh! is full of tender faithful Love.  
Farewell— to happy Cloisters, both retire;  
And there— O, may you ever live above  
The Rage of Power and Injuries of Love.  [Exit. Enter Duke and Friar. Isa. 
Farewell, my Brother; noble Youth, farewell!  
And with thee all my Cares of earthly Things.  [is going. Duke. 
Vouchsafe a▪ Word with you, good Sister, but one Word.  Isa. 
What is your Will?  Duke. 
What I hope will be yours too.  Isa. 
My Sorrows, Father, hasten me from hence.  
I beg you would be brief.  Duke. 
The Hand that made you fair, has made you good.  
Th' Assault that Angelo has given your Virtue  
Chance to my Knowledge brings. I have overheard you,  
And am amazed at Angelo's Hypocrisy.  Isa. 
How is the noble Duke deceived in him?  
If he return, my Injuries shall speak:  
To him I will discover the Impostor.  Duke. 
That may do well; but he'll evade the Charge,  
By vouching it a Trial, or denying all:  
But harken to me, will propose a way  
Shall save your Brother and not injure you,  
And get a Proof that will confound his Cunning,  
If you will join and do what I propose.  Isa. 
O, let me hear you speak, I will do all  
That Virtue will permit. Good Father, speak.  Duke. 
Virtue is bold, and Goodness never fearful.  
You've heard of Mariana, Frederick's Sister,  
Who, with her Brother, lost her Hopes and Fortune.  Isa. 
Both sunk at Sea, or I mistake.  Duke. 
Even so.— This Angelo, then but low in Fortune,  
In Frederick's Absence won this Maid to love him.  
And fearing Frederick's Aversion to the Match  
Should hinder him from doing what he'd promised,  
Married her in private, none being by  
But his own Creatures: but that same Day  
News came of Frederick's Ship being cast away,  
And with it, him, and all her Hopes of Wealth.  Isa. 
Thus far how like my Brother's State!  Duke. 
But no farther. This sordid Man conveyed  
Away all proof of what was done,  
And thus has left her a poor mournful Widow,  
Maid and Wife.  Isa. 
O, base ungrateful Villain!  Duke. 
She loves him still, ungrateful as he is:  
Go you again then to Lord Angelo:  
Seem as if won, and make the dark Appointment.  
She shall supply your Place: the Act is just  
And innocent, and must save your Brother.  Isa. 
But is she married?  Friar. 
We both assure you that: You sure may trust us.  Isa. 
I dare not doubt you. It grows near the time,  
That he appointed me to come again.  Duke. 
Hasts you to him; and from him to us:  
You'll find us at St. Luke's at th' Moated Grange,  
With poor dejected Mariana.  Isa. 
Your Blessings, and I'm gone.  [Exit. Duke. 
I have not patience of Concealment longer:  
Yet I must stay to see the black Event:  
But I have sent him Letters of my coming,  
And that at Noon to morrow I reach Turin.  
Now, my Good Father, let us haste to Mariana.  [Exeunt ambo. Scene changes to the Hall in the Palace. Enter Angelo, Escalus, and Attendants. Ease. 
All the Duke's Letters are contradictory.  Ang. 
In most unev'n and distracted manner:  
His Letters show much like to Madness.  
Pray Heaven my Fears prove vain.  Esc. 
To morrow Noon will show it.  
My Lord, if we have not tired you to day  
With our harmonious and officious Love,  
I hope you will partake this last Effort,  
That may compose your Thoughts for pleasing Slumbers.  Ang. 
I am not so unjust, Lord Escalus,  
To slight my Friends Endeavours to delight me.  
Besides, it is my Royal Master's Birthday;  
And that excuses this gay Loose of Pleasure.  
Let them begin:— No Isabel yet?  [They all sit, and the Third Music. Before 'tis quite done, Isabel enters▪ The Third Entertainment. SCENE, The Ships. Enter Sorceress and Witches. Enter Saylors. Sorc. 
COme away Fellow-Saylors, your Anchors be weighing,  
Time and Tide will admit no delaying.  
Take a Bouse short; leave your Nymphs on the Shore,  
And silence their Mourning  
With Vows of returning,  
But never intending to visit them more.  The Sailor's dance. Sorc. 
See the Flags and the Streamers curling,  
Anchors weighing, Sails unfurling,  
Phoebus' pale deluding Beams  
Gild more deceitful Streams.  
Our Plot has took,  
The Queen forsook: Ho, ho, ho.  
Elisa's ruined; ho, ho, ho. Next Motion  
Must be to storm her Lover on the Ocean,  
From the Ruins of others our Pleasure we borrow:  
Elisa bleeds to Night, and Carthage flames to morrow.  Chor. 
Destruction's our Delight, Delight our greatest Sorrow:  
Elisa dies to Night, and Carthage flames to morrow.  [A Dance of Wizards and Witches. [Exeunt. Enter Queen Dido, Belinda and Train. Dido. 
Your Council all is urged in vain.  
To Earth and Heaven I will complain.  
To Earth and Heaven why do I call?  
Earth and Heaven conspire my Fall.  
To Fate I sue, of other means bereft,  
The only Refuge for the Wretched left.  Enter AEneas. Bel. 
See, Madam, where the Prince appears,  
Such Sorrow in his Looks he bears  
As would convince you still he's true.  AEn. 
What shall lost AEneas do?  
How, Royal Fair, shall I impart?  
The God's decree, and tell you we must part.  Dido. 
Thus on the Fatal Bank of Nile  
Weeps the deceitful Crocodile.  
Thus Hypocrites that Murder act,  
Make Heaven and Gods the Authors of the Fact.  AEn. 
By all that's Good,  Dido. 
By all that's Good no more:  
All that's Good you have forswore.  
To your promised Empire fly,  
And let forsaken Dido die.  AEn. 
In spite of Jove's Command I stay,  
Offend the Gods, and Love obey.  Dido. 
No, faithless Man, thy Course pursue;  
I'm now resolved as well as you:  
No Repentance shall reclaim  
The injured Dido's slighted Flame:  
For 'tis enough, whate'er you now decree,  
That you had once a Thought of leaving me.  AEn. 
Let Jove say what he will, I'll stay.  [Exit AEn. Dido. 
Away.  
To Death I'll fly, if longer you delay;  
But Death, alas, I cannot shun,  
Death must come when he is gone.  Cho. 
Great minds against themselves Conspire,  
And shun the Cure they most desire.  Dido. 
Thy Hand Belinda, Darkness shades me;  
On thy Bosom let me Rest,  
More I would, but Death invades me,  
Death is now a welcome Guest,  
When I am laid in Earth, may wrongs create  
No Trouble in thy Breast  
Remember me, but ah! forget my Fate,  Cho. 
With drooping Wings you Cupids come,  
Soft and Gentle as her Heart,  
Keep here your Watch and never part.  Ange. 
I see my Evening Star of Love appear,  
This is no place to try my last Effort;  
I so desire, that Force, if fair means fail,  
Must give me ease. Would you ought with me?  Isa. 
I come my Lord on the same humble Suit.  Ange. 
This is no place to hear you; follow me.  
Now my kind Stars assist my fierce Desires  
I ask no other Influence from your fires  
O! Love! how much thy borrowed shapes disguise,  
Even to themselves, the Valiant and the Wise.  [Exeunt Omnes. 
The End of the Third ACT.    

ACT IU.  

SCENE I. A Room in Angelo's Apartment.  Enter Angelo and Isabel. Ange. 
HAd you not feared your Brother's fate, I had  
Not seen you now, fair Isabel, which shows,  
That you can pity him tho' you slight me.  
He may that pity thank, but I your fear.  Isa. 
My Lord, I hardly can myself forgive,  
That I still sue to you to save my Brother.  
But that I hope to wake your Virtue  
To spare his Life, and to Reform your own.  Ang. 
How desperate all your hopeful Visits are?  
You bring me Counsel still instead of Love,  
And would in storms of Passion make me Wise;  
Pilots as well may preach to stormy Winds.  Isa. 
And yet as Tempests are allayed by showrs,  
So may your Anger by my Tears be calmed.  Ang. 
You must by yielding teach me to Relent,  
Make haste, Night's fleeting progress will be done,  
And then your Brother's gloomy Race begins.  Isa. 
Then he'll convey your unjust doom on high,  
Before that Judge whose power you use so ill,  
As if 'twere subject to your Will like Love;  
Where you will tremble to approach, My Lord.  
The cruel here shall wish they just had been,  
And that their seeming Love, had not been Lust.  Ang. 
These useless Sayings you from Cloisters bring,  
But cannot teach so soon as you were taught:  
You must example to my Mercy give,  
Claudio shall live if you first save my Life.  Isa. 
Have you no words but what are good alone,  
Because their ill is quickly understood?  
Let Claudio die, while cruel you seem dead,  
By being deaf to all that ask your pity  
Till by long custom of forgiving none,  
To all forgiveness you are grown Averse,  
That in your own behalf, you shall refuse  
To hear of Absolution when you die.  Ang. 
How can you rise to such outrageous Storms?  
From such a modest calm of Bashfulness,  
That suppliant Saints to Heaven did emulate.  
Sure you have other Passions which provoked  
You can as ill repel. Oh! for the power,  
The Charms of Youth, and of a graceful Person,  
To stir your Blood, and rouse up your Desires.  Isa. 
This my Lord, is from our purpose.  [Going. Ang. 
Stay.  [He takes a Cabinet off the Table. 
Here take in this what still supplies Defects:  
The Wealth of many Parents heaped this Treasure.  
In these behold Natures Reserves of Light,  
Bright, as the starry Spangles of the Sky,  
When Night dressed finest in her frost appears.  Isa. 
They areindeed most rich and most surprising.  [Looking at 'em. Ang. 
Be in this World like other People, Wise,  
And take this Treasure as your Beauty's due.  
Wealth draws a Curtain o'er the face of shame,  
Restores lost Beauty, and recovers Fame.  Isa. Aside. To him. 
These I will take as Mariana's due,  
And as a proof he cannot sure deny.  
These sparkling Diamonds do please me strangely!  Ang. 
Why take 'em, Madam, they are freely yours.  Isa. 
But what can I return for such a Gift?  Ang. 
What will not make thee poorer, yet me rich.  
I will not tell thee more to save thy blushes.  
I'll be as cautious of thy Fame as thou.  
Here take this Key, and two hours hence return,  
For now thou art known to be here with me.  
This will convey thee to the Royal Grotto,  
Where we in welcome darkness will discover,  
What I require for this Noble Present.  Isa. 
But my Brother, shall he too live?  Ang. 
He shall— No more of Doubts, he shall.  Isa. 
Oh ' Heaven Sir, here take your Gifts again,  
There's Poison in 'em sure that they infect me.  Ang. 
No, no, away my Love, and when you come  
I will convince you, that they bear no Poison.  Isa. 
Well, I will come if only to restore them;  
For Oh! I fear the Guilt will like a Murder,  
Haunt my sick Mind till I restore 'em to you.  Ang. 
Never fear it, go.  Isa. 
But let there be no Light,  
For if there be, I swear by all that's good!  
Ha! how dare I name or think of what is Good,  
With such a purpose?  Ang. 
Forget these Scruples.  Isa. 
I shall do much to keep these glorious Jewels.  
But let there be no Light.  Ang. 
I swear there shall not.  Isa. 
Two hours hence Sir?  Ang. 
And in the Royal Grotto.  Isa. Aside. 
I will not fail you— Oh! deluded Man,  
To think my Virtue can be bought by Trifles  
That Fancy only values— thy Wife shall have 'em,  
And thou shalt havethy Wife.  [Exit. Ang. 
O! Danae! Danae! comprehensive Image  
Of all thy Sex, all spread their laps for Gold,  
Yes the whole Venal Sex is bought and sold.  
And she that with severest Virtue flies,  
Youth, Form, and Merit obstinately denies,  
Will yield to worthless Age, if Age will give her Price.   

SCENE II. A Garden.  Enter Mariana and a Maid. Mar. 
O! Mariana! Sleep has fled thy Eyes,  
And broken slumbers scarce refresh thy Spirits  
Since Angelo is false. I wonder what Affairs  
My holy Confessor can have with me  
Thus late at Night! yet I with ease may wait him.  
To amuse my Sorrows let me hear that Song.  The Maid Sings. 

SONG.  
Take Oh! take those Lips away,  
That so sweetly were forsworn;  
And those Eyes, the break of day,  
Lights that do misled the Morn;  
But my kisses bring again, bring again,  
Seals of Love, but sealed in vain.   Enter Duke and Friar. Mar. 
Break off thy Song, and hast thee quick away;  
Here comes a Man of Comfort, whose Advice  
Has often stilled my brawling discontents.  
I cry you Mercy, and could wish you had not  
Found me here so Musical, it soothed my Griefs,  
But bred no Mirth.  Duke. 
Music, my good Daughter,  
Has power to soften Woe, refresh the Mind,  
And make it fit for its more strenuous Duties.  
Has any yet since Night enquired for us?  Mar. 
None, my holy Father.  Enter Isabel. Duke. 
Oh, here she comes!  
This Virtuous Maid fair Mariana brings,  
Such wholesome means to cure your wounded Mind  
That will secure your sickle Angelo.  Mar. 
What happy Sounds are these?  [they Embrace. Duke. 
Inform her Isabel of the Matter.  They seem to Whisper. 
O! Place and Greatness! Millions of false Eyes  
Are stuck upon thee; Volumes of Report,  
Run with their false and most contrarious Censures  
Upon thy Actions; thousand games of Wit,  
Make thee the Father of their idle Dreams,  
And rack thee in their Fancies.  Friar. 
True, my Lord,  
But seldom reach or ought affect this Greatness;  
Men bark at Grandeur, but 'tis at a distance,  
As Dogs do at the Moon— she hears it not;  
Goes on her Round and peaceful Race of Glory,  
Untouched by all their little Malice.  Duke. 
Well!  
Mariana, how do you taste these means?  Mar. 
With Joy if you advise it.  Duke. 
'Tis not only  
My Counsel, but Entreaty; but kind Isabel,  
What have you here within this Cabinet?  Isa. 
This Cabinet, with all it holds is yours. [To Mariana.  
For you are his, and tho'he gave it me  
With foul intent; yet, I as yours, received it.  
And as a proof most certain of his Guilt  Duke. 
But as to time and place?  Isa. 
Within this Hour, and in the Royal Grotto.  
This Key conducts you Madam, 'twill be dark,  
Let not your stay be long; but say your Maid  
Waits for you at the Gate, who does believe  
You come about your Brother; remember that.  Mar. 
I shall— fear not your Brother.—  Duke. 
And gentle Daughter, be not you afraid,  
He is your Husband, and it is no Sin  
To bring you thus together; the deceit  
In that is Justified, then quickly go  
And reap the Harvest that your Friends have sowed.  [Exeunt Omnes.  

SCENE III. The Prison.  Enter Provost and Claudio. Pro. 
HEre is the Warrant Claudio for thy Death.  
'Tis now past four, and before eight this Morning,  
You must be made Immortal; I pity you.  Clau. 
Art thou then so capable of pity,  
For that small pang of Death I then must feel?  
Sure thou canst never just Compassion want,  
For the extremest Torture of the Mind.  
'Tis true, I know the Brutal Deputy,  
Forbids my sight of my unhappy Wife.  
But sure thou hast more soft humanity,  
Than not to let me see her e'er I die.  Pro. 
I have the Will, but dare not disobey,  
Or break my Oath, which does oblige obedience.  Clau. 
Such blind implicit Oaths suppose a Justice,  
In what shall be commanded, else thou must  
If he command, destroy thy Father, break  
All the Laws, both Humane and Divine.  Pro. 
But in obeying here I shall break none.  Clau. 
Thou break'st the Laws of pity and compassion.  Pro. 
So does the Judge that sits upon the Criminal,  
If with his Prayers unmoved, he gives his Sentence.  Clau. 
That's with the Law, but sure no Law denies  
Us liberty to take a parting look,  
Before we separate for ever. Oh! by thy hopes  
By all that thou hold'st dear! by Heaven I beg thee  
Grant me this last request! thou shalt be by,  
Hear all that's said, see all that we shall do.  Pro. 
Well, let me think a while!  Enter Duke and Friar. Duke. 
The best and wholsom`st spirits of the night  
Surround thee Provost.  Pro. 
Thanks, my holy Father.  Duke. 
What Comfort is for Claudio?  Pro. 
He is a Judge inexorable.  Duke. 
He walks himself so straight by the line  
Of the severest Justice, that he thinks  
All men might do the same.  
This is a gentle Provost, 'tis seldom seen,  
That the harsh Gaoler is the Friend of men.  
Have you no countermand for Claudio yet?  Pro. 
None, Sir, none.  Duke. 
As near the dawning as it is,  
You shall hear more ere morning.  Pro. 
I wish I may.  Enter Messenger. Duke. 
This is that Lord's man,  
And here comes Claudio's pardon.  Mess. 
My Lord has sent you here this Note,  
And by me too this further charge,  
That you presume not in the least to swerve,  
Even from the smallest Article of it,  
In time or matter, or in any circumstance.  
Good morrow, as I take it 'tis almost day.  Exit. Pro. 
I shall obey him— I told you, Sir, my fear,  
Lord Angelo perhaps thinking me remiss  
In the performance of my Office, wakes me  
With this, and that most strangely too methinks.  Duke. 
Pray let us hear it.  The Letter. Pro. (reads.) 
— Whatever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by six this morning, and Bernardine by twelve; for my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's Head sent me by seven. Let this be duly executed with a thought that more depends on't than yet you know. Thus fail not to do your Office, as you will answer it at your peril.  Pro. 
What say you to this, Sir?  Claud. 
You see how short a time I have to live,  
Oh! let me Fathers beg you, by your order,  
By the blessed Saint that was your holy Founder,  
That you prevail with him to let me see  
My Wife before I die, 'tis all I ask.  Duke. 
Gentle Provost, you'll not deny him that?  Clau. 
He fears, his Oath of strict Obedience ties him  
To a denial.  Duke. 
Let me assure you no▪  
We will take all the guilt upon us two.  Prov. 
I'll trust to your opinion, Sir, I'll fetch her.  
The unlocking of that door admits her to you. [He unlocks the door.  
Madam, you may come out to see your Lord.  Enter Julietta. They run and embrace one another. Jul. 
My Claudio!  Clau. 
My Juliet!  Duke. 
Let us retire and leave them to themselves.  
We may be near enough to overhear them;  
Besides I have some Business with the Provost.  Exeunt all but Claudio and Juliet. Jul. 
Oh! my Claudio, do I once more behold thee!  Clau. 
This once, my Juliet, but alas no more!  
The galloping minutes fly swiftly on,  
That will for ever bear me from thy sight.  Jul. 
Oh! torturing sound! Oh! sad! Oh! narrow view  
Of all my Life's dear happiness at once!  
I cannot teach my heart the hateful truth.  
What no more see thee? see my Love no more?  Clau. 
No more my Love—  Jul. 
Oh! say not thou so, for from thee it sounds  
Unkindly harsh, and the least empty shadow  
Of thy unkindness soon would break my heart!  Clau. 
Ah! thou art Love and Tenderness itself,  
chaste, humble and obedient to my Will,  
If I had any Will that was not thine.  Jul. 
Ah! my dear Lord our Wills were so much one,  
I had no use at all of my Obedience.  Clau. 
Thy Virtues, as thy Beauties are Divine,  
And Heavenly goodness is in all thou dost.  
Oh! Juliet! how happy have we been!  
Within ourselves we'd perfect happiness.  
We built it not on the frail Goods of Fortune,  
But thou alone were't mine, and only I was thine.  Jul. 
And yet cursed fortune too has ruined us!  
That stream of Life that fed our mutual joys,  
This shock of Fate has thrown from out his bed,  
And in thy Death chokes up its pleasing source.  Clau. 
Like a good Play, our first Act promised wonders,  
But the false Deputy and Miser Pedro,  
With envious guilty hands pulls down the Curtain,  
And spitefully forbid the rest.  
Oh! Julietta, how canst thou forgive me?  
The cursed cause of this thy shameful woe?  Jul. 
Oh! rather how canst thou forgive me, Claudio?  
Who thus have brought thee to untimely death?  
To ignominious death!  Clau. 
Oh charge not thy dear self with such a guilt,  
'Twas I, 'twas I alone, that caused it all.  
Wretch that I was, oh miserable wretch,  
That could seek aught but thee, though it was thine!  
Were not thy virtues, and thy wondrous Beauties  
A Treasure large enough for my desires?  
But I must hazard those for dirt, and Counters,  
O! foolish Caution that regarded trifles,  
And left my only Jewel so exposed.  
Yes, yes, I do deserve this hateful lot,  
Imprisonment, foul Death, and every thing  
That's ignominious, for so vile a Crime.  Jul. 
Forbear, my Love, thou couldst not see  
This sad event, our Innocence could not fear  
Those Laws, it ne'er should break: Laquinas absent,  
And Father Pierre in France! enough to prove  
Our Marriage, had we time. Our Enemy's  
Deny me that, to rob me of my Dower.  
Oh! let them take it, and with it take my life,  
If they would spare but thee. 'Tis I, 'tis I  
That robbed my Claudio of his noble Life!  
Oh! Heaven, I shall grow wild with the sad Thought!  
'Tis Julietta murders her dear Claudio!  Clau. 
Oh! do not grieve for what is not thy guilt,  
It is Heaven's Will, and we are innocent!  
Then grieve not thus, my Love, I hardly got  
This short permission for my last farewell,  
Which I would use to comfort thy sad soul,  
And not t'increase thy sorrows— Grieve no more.  Jul. 
Oh! Canst thou love! And yet forbid my grief?  
Thou dealest not by me with the Rule of Justice.  
Wouldst thou not grieve were I to die like thee?  
Yes, yes, thou wouldst, my Claudio, for my shame,  
Tho fortified with innocence, just now  
Shook thy dear Soul with Agonies of Grief.  
And wilt thou rob me then of the sad Privilege  
Of my misfortunes?  
No I will grieve as long as I have life,  
For Life has now no joys t'appease my sorrows.  
What can I see thee leaving me for ever?  
For ever! oh dismal! cursed sound!  
And part without a pang or tear!  
No I'll indulge so just a grief, and melt,  
Dissolve into a watery Deluge, that shall  
Bear down the dams of Life, and drown my Woe.  Clau. 
Think of thy Child, which is a part of me,  
Thou'lt murder that with thy excess of sorrow:  
Preserve that Image of th' unhappy Claudio.  
And if thou must be grieved (for thou dost love me,  
And it is just thou grieve a little for me)  
Be moderate in it, for mine and thy Child's sake.  
Think me but going a most happy Voyage,  
To a blessed Region of Content and Peace,  
Where Innocence and Truth are undisturbed  
By cruel envy, avarice or pride,  
There to make ready a retreat for thee;  
Who at the night of this short day of life  
Wilt follow me, and stay with me for ever.  Jul. 
Oh! oh! my heart. Weeps, and shows great sorrow and impatience.  Clau. 
Prithee, my Love, have patience!  Jul. 
Indeed I cannot help it!  Clau. 
Good Heaven assist thee, for thy grief unmans me.  
And I dissolve in tears too, like a woman.  Enter Provost, Duke and Friar. Pro. 
You have enough convinced me.  Duke. 
Fear not, but do as I advise.  Pro. 
Time forces now your parting.  To Claud. and Jul. Jul. 
Alas! my Claudio, must we part for ever!  Clau. 
Oh! think not so, in Heaven we sure must meet.  
O kind Provost allow a little time!  
A little more, that we may gently part,  
Not as if torn by force from one another.  Pro. 
A little and a little will be much,  
And the Deputy in less than half an hour  
Expects your head, these holy men attend you.  Jul. 
Oh!  Faints away, and they carry her off Clau. 
Oh! take care of her, her sorrows fall  
With an oppressing weight upon her head.  
Oh! holy Father, apply your Sacred Comforts  
To her sad soul diseased with love and grief.  
Oh! Julietta! Oh! most wretched Claudio!  Duke. 
Go after him, and mind my last direction. Exit.  
We'll follow you.  Pro. 
I shall.  Exit. Isabel (within.) 
Peace hoa! be here.  Duke. 
The Tongue of Isabel.  
She comes to know if Claudio yet be pardoned,  
And will be strangely startled at the contrary.  
I'll send these Letters just now to Lord Angelo;  
And let him know that I am now near home,  
And that he attend me in the public Hall.  Enter Isabel. Isa. 
By your leave.  Duke. 
Good morrow, Gracious Daughter.  Isab. 
The better— given me by so holy a man.  
Has yet the Deputy sent my Brother's pardon?  Duke. 
He has released him from this wicked world.  
His head is off and sent to Angelo.  Is. 
This cannot be.  Duke. 
'Tis so indeed, good Daughter.  
But show your wisdom in your patience now.  Isa. 
No, I will to him and pull his eyes out.  Duke. 
You will not be admitted to his presence.  Isa. 
Unhappy Claudio, wretched Isabel.  
Injurious World, accursed Angelo!  Duke. 
This hurts not him, nor profits you a jot,  
Forbear it therefore, give your Cause to Heaun.  
Mark what I say, which you shall find  
In every syllable a faithful truth.  
The Duke comes home this morning, dry your eyes,  
One of our Convent and his Confessor  
Gives us this News, he has already carried  
Notice to Escalus and Angelo.  
This Holy Father shall bring you and Mariana  
Before the Duke, to the head of Angelo.  
Accuse him home and home, nor be dismayed  
At what the Duke may say to search the bottom,  
Be ruled by this good Father and you're safe.  Isa. 
I'll be directed by you.  Friar. 
Let Mariana and yourself then meet me  
Near the Palace, ere the Duke arrive.  Isa. 
I go to fetch her, and will not fail you.  Exit. Duke. 
This day again I will appear at helm.  
For Angelo I find would weed the vices  
Of others, while he lets his own still grow;  
But I will soon let his false Reason know,  
That he that would the Sword of Justice bear,  
Should be as holy as he is severe.  
The end of the Fourth Act.    

ACT 5.  

SCENE 1. The Great Hall in the Palace.  Enter Angelo, and Escalus. Ang. 
'tIs now the time the Duke's expected home.  
Why has he ordered we shan't meet his highness,  
But wait him here, to give up our Authorities?  Esc. 
I cannot guests the reason.  Ang. 
And why should we proclaim an hour before  
His entry, that if any claim Redress  
Against Injustice in my Government,  
They should at his first entrance here declare it.  Esc. 
He shows you why, that none hereafter may  
Trump up devices or complaints against you.  Ang. 
Well, I've obeyed him; proclamations made,  
Good Escalus see all attend in order.  Esc. 
I will.  Exit. Ang. 
This deed unshapes me quite, dulls all my judgement;  
A Maid of Quality deflowered, and by one  
Of my high Post, against the Law express,  
That Law, that I enforced against her Brother.  
Her shame indeed, awed by my Power, secures me  
From her reproaches; 'tis true he should have lived—  
But that his honour might have ta'en revenge,  
When he had known the Price his Life had cost.  
Yet would that he had lived! in me 'twas murder  
Tho done by Law.  Within.] 
Room for the Duke, room for the Duke, longlive Vincentio, Duke of Savoy.  
Ha! he comes, my guilt,  
Tho safe hid from him, makes me dread his Presence.  Enter Duke, Lords and Attendants. Happy return to your Royal Highness. Duke. 
Thanks, good Lord Angelo, on enquiry  
I hear such fame of your great Justice, that  
My Soul must as fore▪ runner of more just reward,  
Now give you public thanks.  Ang. 
You make my Bonds still greater.  Duke. 
Oh! as I would severely punish him  
That should betray my trust, and turn it  
To base unworthy ends of Pride or Malice,  
Of guilty Vengeance, Favour, Cruelty,  
So must my people know, how I esteem  
The man that does the contrary.  Enter Father Thomas and Isabel. Fry. 
Now's your time, speak loud, and kneel before him.  Isa. 
Justice, Royal Duke, Oh! pray regard  
An injured (I fain alas! would say a) Maid!  
Oh! hear me Prince! Oh! hear, and give me Justice!  
Justice, Justice, Justice.  Duke. 
Declare your wrongs.  
Here is Lord Angelo shall give you Justice.  
Apply yourself to him.  Isa. 
Oh! Royal Duke!  
Hear me yourself, for oh, he has no Justice!  
'Tis against him I claim it.  Ang. 
My Lord, her Brain  
Is now infirm, having sued to me in vain  
For her dead Brother, cut off by course of Justice.  Isa. 
By course of Justice!  Ang. 
And she'll speak bitterly.  Isa. 
I will speak truth, however strange it seem.  
That Angelo s forsworn, is it not strange?  
That Angelo's a Murderer, is it not strange?  
That Angelo's an Adulterous Robber,  
A violater of unhappy Virgins,  
A most deceitful dangerous Hypocrite,  
Is it not strange?  Duke. 
All all, most wondrous strange.  Isa. 
Yet, Royal Sir, 'tis all as true as strange.  Duke. 
Away with her, poor Soul, she's mad.  Isa. 
Oh! Prince,  
I do conjure you as you do believe  
A Heaven to come, as well as Hell hereafter,  
That you'll not slight my Cause as madness.  
All that's unlikely is not sure impossible.  
Hypocrisy were nothing, could we see through it.  
A Hypocrite may seem as grave, austere,  
As holy, and as just as Angelo:  
Then he may be a Hypocrite, a Villain,  
If he's not, he's nothing; but he is more.  Duke. 
If she be mad, as I believe no other,  
Her Madness has the oddest frame of sense;  
Such a dependency of thing on thing,  
As ne'er was heard in madness.  Isa. 
Oh! Gracious Duke!  
Believe not that I'm mad, but do me Justice.  Duke. 
Many that are not mad, have sure less reason.  
What would you say; come, to your complaint.  Isa. 
I am the Sister of unhappy Claudio,  
Who in your service had received some Wounds,  
But falsely accused of breach of a blind Law,  
Was doomed to death by him; in hopes to save him,  
I begged, and prayed, entreated, wept;  
These though they moved not pity, moved his Love,  
Which he confessed, and urged, nay promised marriage,  
Which, with assurance of my Brother's life,  
Prevailed with me, as to my certain Husband,  
To yield what he commanded.  weeps. Duke. 
Go on.  Isa. 
But while his vows were warm yet on his Lips,  
He takes my Brother's life, a fatal proof  
How ill he meant to keep his other vows:  
And finding by your Royal Proclamation  
I must complain, or now or never, I could not  
Resist the impulse of my injured honour.  Duke. 
By heaven, fond Maid, thou know'st not what thou sayst,  
Or art suborned against his well known honour.  
First his Integrity stands without blemish;  
Next, how could he punish what himself durst act?  
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice,  
Thou com'st here to complain.  Isa. 
And is this all?  
Then oh! you blessed Ministers above  
Then oh! you blessed Ministers above  
Do me instant Justice.  Going. Duke. 
You would be gone:  
But Guards secure her; I will know the Spring  
That set you thus in motion.  Isa. 
One that I wish were here, one Friar Lodowick  Duke. 
I know him well, a man of truth and justice.  Fr. 
May't please your Highness I am here for him,  
Who being detained by illness from this place,  
Has sent me hither to oppose this Maid  
And you shall hear her so disproven, that she,  
Shall her own self confess it.  Duke. 
Let's hear this proof.  
Why look you so concerned, Lord Angelo?  
Do you doubt my Justice or my Love, or think  
I'll suffer calumny to thrive; come sit yourself,  
Be your own Judge— Friar proceed.  Enter Mariana veiled, and Maid with the Cabinet. Fry. 
Here comes the proof, my Lord.  Duke. 
First let her show her face, and after speak,  Mar. 
Pardon, my Lord, I dare not show my Face  
Till my own Husband bid me.  Duke. 
Are you then married?  Mar. 
My Lord, I am, and come to justify my Husband.  
She that accuses her Lord Angelo,  
Does of that very crime accuse my Husband,  
And charges him, when I my Lord did hold him  
Within these Arms myself.  Ang. 
Charges she more than me?  Mar. 
Not that I know of.  Duke. 
No? you say your Husband.  Mar. 
I do, my Lord, but that is Angelo.  Ang. 
This is a strange Abuse; let's see thy face.  Mar. 
My Husband bids me now, I will unmask.  
This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,  
Which you once swore was worthy of your eyes;  
This is the hand you took with solemn vows;  
And this the body that supplied her place  
This morning in the Royal Grotto.  Duke. 
Know you this woman, Angelo?  Ang. 
My Lord, I must confess I know this woman,  
And some years since there was some speech of Marriage  
Betwixt myself and her, which was broke off,  
Partly for that her Portion proved less than promise,  
But more especially for her ill name,  
Since which I've neither seen nor spoke with her,  
Upon my Faith and Honour.  Mar. 
Noble Prince!  
So may I meet the Blessings of hereafter,  
As this man knew me as his wife this morning.  Ang. 
I did but smile till now: Good my Lord,  
Give me the scope of Justice, I do perceive  
These poor informing women are set on  
By some more powerful to blast my virtue.  Duke. 
No more— Base Angelo, I know thee guilty; Angelo starts up.  
I was myself contriver of this Scene,  
As I had been to do Mariana justice.  
Produce that Casket: Know you, Sir, those Jewels?  
They were, 'tis true, designed the price of Virgins,  
But brought by that bright Maid to thy good Wife,  
Who in her place deceived thee in the Grotto.  
This, this good Father, (that was my companion,  
Whilst I disguised myself in their habit)  
Can witness for me. I waited all this while,  
To see if thy Remorse would show thy Guilt,  
But thou art hardened in thy guileful Arts.  
Have you ought yet to say?  Ang. 
Oh! my dread Lord,  
I should be guiltier than I am, to think  
I can be undiscovered, when your Highness,  
Like power divine, has thus observed my actions.  
Oh! hold no longer Sessions on my shame,  
But let my Sentence passed on Claudio's Life  
Be now my doom, I only beg for death.  Duke. 
And that's your due. Come hither, Mariana.  
Say, was you ever married to this woman?  Ang. 
My good Lord, I was.  Duk. 
Come hither, Isabel.  
Your Fryer's now your Prince.  Isa. 
Oh! give me pardon,  
That I your Vassal have employed, and pained  
Your unknown Sovereignty.  Duke. 
It needs no pardon.  
But yours I ask, that by delays surprised,  
Have lost your Brother's life. But he that judged him,  
Guilty of breach of Promise, as of Lust,  
The very mercy of the Law cries out,  
a Angelo for Claudio, life for life.  
We do condemn thee then to that same Block  
Where Claudio stooped to death, with the same haste..  
Away with him.  Mar. 
Oh my most gracious Lord!  
I hope you will not mock me with a Husband.  Duke. 
It is your Angelo has mocked you with a Husband.  
For his possession's forfeited by Law,  
We give 'em you to buy a better Husband.  Mar. 
I crave no other, would no better man.  Duke. 
Speak not you for him, my resolve is fixed.  Mar. 
Oh! Isabel! if you e'er knew love,  
Assist my Prayers, and kneel with me to beg  
This boon of the good Duke, and all my life  
Shall be devoted to your constant service.  Duke. 
Against all sense you do solicit her.  
Should she but speak, her Brother's Ghost would break  
His deep paved bed, to take her hence with horror.  Mar. 
Oh! Isabel!  
Oh, kneel but by me! lift but up your hands!  
Say nothing, I'll say all. Oh, Prince!  
The noblest Nature's mingled with some faults,  
So may my Husband's. You have known his truth,  
His Judgement, Will, Ability to serve you.  
Oh, Isabel, will you then not kneel?  Duke. 
For Claudio's death he dies.  Isa. 
Oh, Royal Sir!  
Look on this man as if my Brother lived.  
I do believe till he saw me, his Virtue  
Might guide his rigid actions.  Mar. 
Most certainly.  Duke. 
Your suit's in vain: stand up, I have bethought me  
Of another fault. Provost, how came it  
That Claudio died at an unusual hour?  Pro. 
I was so commanded.  Duke. 
Had you a special Warrant for so doing?  Pro. 
No, my good Lord, it was a private Message.  Duke. 
For which I here discharge you of your office.  
Give up your Keys.  Pro. 
Oh, pardon me, Sir?  
I thought it was a fault, but knew it not,  
And yet repented it on more advice.  
For testimony of which, one person  
That should have died by private order,  
I have preserved alive.  Duke. 
What is he?  Pro. 
His name is Bernardine.  Duke. 
I wish thou hadst done so by Claudio too.  
Go fetch him hither, let us see him here.  Ex. Pro. Esc. 
I am sorry one so learned and wise,  
As you, Lord Angelo, have still appeared,  
Should slip so grossly both in heat of Blood,  
And want of Judgement afterwards.  Ang. 
My sorrow equal yours, I crave not pity,  
I merit death, and that I only beg for.  Enter Provost. Claudio, and Julietta. Duke. 
Is this that Bernardine that you have saved.  Pro. 
It is, my Liege, as like to Claudio as himself.  Duke. 
If he be like your Brother he is safe.  Isa. 
My Brother!  Clau. 
My Sister!  They embrace. Duke. 
Give me your hand, and say you will be mine,  
He is my Brother too, but fitter time for that.  
By this, Lord Angelo perceives he's safe.  
Methinks I see a quickening in his eye.  
Well Angelo, let not this success  
To your ill deeds encourage your misdoing.  
Cherish your Wife, she's worthy of your love;  
I have confessed her, and I know her Virtue.  
Thanks, my good Escalus, for thy faithful services.  
Honest Provost, thy care and secrecy  
Shall meet a good reward; we shall employ thee  
In a worthier place. Forgive him, Angelo,  
Who showed the head of Rangozine for Claudio's;  
Th' offence remits itself. Dismiss the company.  Esca. 
My Liege, before you do retire, I beg of you  
To share the joy we have for your return:  
The sudden notice cramped our zeal to this.  Duke. 
If Isabel please we all will share it.  
Come fit by me, I know thy Virtue Royal,  
Thy House as ancient as thy Beauty's young.  They all sit. The last Music. The Fourth Entertainment. Phoebus Rises in his Chariot over the Sea. The Nercides out of the Sea. Phoe. 
FRom Aurora's Spicy Bed  
Phoebus rears his Sacred Head;  
His Coursers advancing,  
Curvetting and Prancing.  1 Ner. 
Phoebus strives in vain to tame 'em,  
With Ambrosia fed too high.  2 Ner. 
Phoebus ought not now to blame 'em,  
Wild and eager to survey  
The fairest Pageant of the Sea.  Phoe. 
Tritons and Nereids come pay your devotion,  Cho. 
To the new rising Star of the Ocean.  Venus descends in her Chariot, the Tritons rise out of the Sea. The Tritons dance. Ner. 
Look down ye Orbs and see  
A New Divinity.  Phoe. 
Whose Lustre does outshine  
Your fainter Beams, and half Eclipses mine.  
Give Phoebus leave to Prophesy,  
Phoebus all events can see.  
Ten thousand, thousand harms  
From such prevailing Charms,  
To Gods and Men must instantly ensue.  Cho. 
And if the Deities above  
Are victims of the Powers of Love,  
What must Wretched Mortals do.  Venus. 
Fear not, Phoebus, fear not me,  
A harmless deity.  
These are all my Guards ye view,  
What can these Blind Archers do.  Phoe. 
Blind they are, but strike the Heart,  Ven. 
What Phoebus says is always true  
They wound indeed, but 'tis a pleasing smart.  Phoe. 
Earth and Skies address their duty.  
To the Sovereign Queen of Beauty.  
All Resigning,  
None Repining,  
At her undisputed so●ay.  Cho. 
To Phoebus and Venus our Homage we'll pay,  
Her Charms bless the night, as his Beams bless the day  The Nereids Dance. The Scene changes to a Grove. The Spring appears in an Arbour, with her Nymphs about her. Ven. 
See the Spring in all her Glory,  Cho. 
Welcomes Venus to the shore.  Ven. 
Smiling hours are now before you,  
Hours that may return no more.  Soft Music. Exit Phoe. Ven. Enter the Country Shepherds and Shepherdesses. A DIALOGUE. Herald 
Tell me, tell me, prithee Dolly,  
And leave thy Melancholy;  
Why on the Plains, the Nymphs and Swains,  
This morning are so jolly.  She. 
By Zephir ●s gentle blowing,  
And Grace of Venus flowing,  
The Sun has been to Court our Queen,  
And tired the Spring with wooing.  Herald 
The Sun does guild our Bowers,  She. 
The Spring does yield us Flowers.  
She sends the Vine.  Herald 
He makes the Wine,  
To charm our happy Hours.  She. 
She gives our Flocks their feeding,  Herald 
He makes them fit for breeding,  She. 
She decks the Plain,  Herald 
He fills the Grain,  
And makes it worth the weeding.  Cho. 
But the Jolly Nymph Thetis that long his Love sought,  
Has flustered him now with a large Morning's draught.  
Let's go and divert him then whilst he is mellow,  
You know in his Cups he's a Hot-beaded Fellow.  Enter Morris Dancers. Enter the Spring and Nymphs▪ Spring. 
Our Youth and Form declare,  
For what we were designed.  
'Twas Nature made us fair,  
And you must make us kind.  
He that fails of addressing,  
'Tis but just he should fail of possessing.  The Spring and Nymphs dance Enter Shepherd's. She. 
Jolly Shepherds come away  
To celebrate this Genial day,  
And take the friendly hours your vows to pay.  
Now make Trial,  
And take no denial,  
Now carry your Game, or for ever give o'er.  Cho. 
Let us Love and happy live.  
Possess those smiling Hours.  
The more auspicious Powers,  
And gentle Planets give,  
Prepare those soft returns to meet,  
That makes Love torments sweet.  Enter Mars and his Attendants, on one side, Peace and her Train on the other. Mar. 
Bid the Warlike Trumpet sound,  
Conquest waits with Laurel crowned,  
Conquest is the Hero's due.  
Glorious Triumph will ensue.  Peace. 
'Tis time for War's alarms to cease,  
And Heroes Crowned with spoils,  
Enjoy the Harvest of their toils,  
And reap the happy Fruits of Peace.  Mar. & his Train Cho.) 
No, no! though love would have it so.  
Fame and Honour answer— No.  Beace. 
Wherefore must the Warrior be  
To restless Tasks assigned,  
Give others those delights which he  
Must never hope to find,  
Shall he, whose valour gained  
The Prize in rough alarms,  
Be still condemned to arms,  
And from a Victor's share detained.  Mar. Cho. 
Yes, yes.  Peace. Cho. 
No, no.  Mar. Cho. 
Fame, Fame will have it so,  Peace. Cho. 
Love and Reason answer no.  Peace. 
Must he with endless toils be pressed,  
Nor with repose himself be blessed,  
Who gives the weary Nations rest.  Mar. Cho. 
Yes, yes.  Peace. Cho. 
No, no  All. 
Love, Reason, Honour, all will have it so.  Cho. 
Since it is decreed that Wars should cease,  
Let's all agree to welcome Peace.  The grand Dance. Duke. 
I am the last of my great race, and would not  
Leave my dear Country when I die to strife;  
But that I may secure so great a blessing,  
With equal hand to all I'll Justice do;  
Favour shan't blind my Reason, but Reward  
And punishment shall wait on Guilt and Merit;  
Impartial Justice, Kings should mind alone,  
For that 'tis still perpetuates best a Throne.    
FINIS.