Which had you rather, that the most just law Ifab. Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my foul. Ang. I talk not of your foul; our compell'd fins Stand more for number than accompt. Isab. How say you? Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak Ifab. Please you to do't, Ang. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your foul, Ifab. That I do beg his life, if it be fin, Ang. Nay, but hear me: Your fenfe purfues not mine: either, you're ignorant; Or feem fo, craftily; and that's not good. Ifab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But gracioufly to know I am no better. Ang. Thus Wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax it felf: as these black masques Proclaim an en-shield beauty ten rimes louder, Than beauty could display'd. But mark me, To be received plain, I'll speak more gross; Your brother is to die. Ifab. So. Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Ang. Ang. Admit no other way to save his life, Ifab. As much for my poor brother, as my self; Ang. Then must your brother die. Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the Sentence, Ifab. An ignominious ransom, and free pardon, Ang. You feem'd of late to make the law a tyrant, Isab. Oh pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean: I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Ifab. Else let my brother die, (13) If (13) Else let my Brother dye, If not a Feodary, but only He, &c.] This is so obfcure a Paffage, but so fine in its Application, that it deserves to be explain'd. A Feo dary If not a feodary, but only he, Ang. Nay, women are frail too. Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves Which are as easy broke, as they make forms. Women! help heav'n; men their creation mar, In profiting by them: nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints. Ang. I think it well; And from this teftimony of your own sex, Ifab. I have no tongue but one; gentle my lord, Let me intreat you, speak the former language. And you tell me, that he shall die for it. Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Which seems a little fouler than it is, Ang. Believe me, on mine Honour, My words express my purpose. ८ ८८ Isab. Ha! little Honour to be much believ'd, dary was One, that, in the Times of Vafssalage, held Lands of the chief Lord, under the Tenure of paying Rent and Service: which Tenures were call'd Feuda amongst the Goths. This being premised, let us come to a Paraphrafe of our Author's Words. "We are all frail, fays Angelo; yes, replies Ifabella; if all Mankind were not Feodaries, who owe what they have to this Tenure of Imbecillity, and who succeed " each other by the fame Tenure, as well as my Brother, I would give " him up." And the comparing Mankind, (who, according to some Divines, lye under the Weight of Original Sin,) to a Feodary, who owes Suit and Service to his Lord, is, I think, one of the most beautiful Allufions imaginable. Mr. Warburton. And most pernicious purpose! seeming, seeming! 6 Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoil'd Name, th' Austereness of my Life, My Vouch against you, and my Place i'th' State, Will so your accusation over-weigh, That you shall stifle in your own report, And smell of calumny. I have begun; And now I give my sensual race the rein. Fit thy consent to my tharp appetite, Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes, That banish what they fue for: redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will: Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out To ling'ring fufferance. Answer me to morrow; Or by th'affection that now guides me most, I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can; my false o'erweighs your true. [Exit. Isab. To whom should I complain? did I tell this, Then, Isabel, live, chaste; and, brother, die, I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request; And fit his mind to death, for his foul's Rest. [Exit. ACT S ACTIII.. SCENE, the Prison. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. O, then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo ? par'd to die. Duke. Be absolute for death: or death, or life, That none but fools would reck; a breath thou art, Are nurs'd by baseness: thou'rt by no means valiant; (14) - Reason thus with Life; If I do lose thee, I do lose a Thing That none but Fools would keep. But this Reading is not only contrary to all Sense and Reason; but to the Drift of this moral Difcourse. The Duke, in his affum'd Character of a Friar, is endeavouring to instill into the condemn'd Prisoner a Refignation of Mind to his Sentence; but the Sense of the Lines, in this Reading, is a direct Perswafive 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 Loss of. Mr. Warburton. And the Word is very frequent with our Author. 2 Gent. of Verona; Recking as little what betideth me, As much I wish all Good befortune you. And Hamlet; Himself the primrose Path of Dalliance treads, Et alibi passim. For |