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For thou doft fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of Reft is fleep,
And that thou oft provok'ft; yet grofly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou'rt not thy felf;
For thou exift'ft on many a thousand grains,
That iffue out of duft. Happy thou art not;
For what thou haft not, ftill thou ftriv'ft to get;
And what thou haft, forgett'ft. Thou art not certains
For thy complexion fhifts to ftrange effects,
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor;
For, like an afs, whofe back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'ft thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloadeth thee. Friend thou haft none,
For thy own bowels, which do call thee Sire,
The meer effufion of thy proper loins,

Do curfe the Gout, Serpigo, and the Rheum,

For ending thee no fooner. Thou haft nor youth, nor age; (15)

But as it were an after-dinner's fleep,

Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms

Of palfied Eld; and when thou'rt old and rich,

(15) - Thou haft nor Youth, nor Age; &c.] Mr. Warburton has given me a Correction of, and Paraphrafe on, this and the fubfeen me a quent Lines; which fhews fo fine a Spirit, that, tho' I have not ventur'd to difturb the Text, I must not deprive my Readers of it. "The "Drift of this Period, you fee, is to prove, that neither Youth, nor Age, " is really enjoy'd: which, in poetical Language is, We have neither Youth, nor Age." But how is This prov'd? That Age is not enjoy'd, " he makes appear by recapitulating the Infirmities of it, which deprive "old Age of the Senfe of Pleasure. To prove Youth is not enjoy'd, he "ufes these Words; for all thy bleffed Youth becomes as aged, and doth beg the Alms of palfied Eld. Out of which, he that can deduce the Proof, erit mihi magnus Apollo." Undoubtedly, if we would know how the Author wrote, we must read.


for, pall'd, thy blazed Youth

Becomes afluaged; and doth beg the Alms
Of palfied Eld.

"i. e. When thy youthful Appetite becomes pall'd, as it will be, in the "Enjoyment; the Blaze of Youth becomes affuaged, and thou immedi "ately contract'ft the Infirmities of Age; as, particularly, the Palfie, "and other nervous Infirmities; the Confequence of the Enjoyment of "fenfual Pleasure. This is to the Purpofe; and proves Youth is not en"joy'd, by fhewing the fleeting Duration of it."


Thou haft neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty
To make thy riches pleafant. What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life? yet in this life 13

Lye hid more thoufand deaths; yet death we fear,
That makes thefe odds all even.

Claud. I humbly thank you.

To fue to live, I find, I feek to die;

And, feeking death, find life: let it come on.

Enter Ifabella.

Ifab. What, ho? peace here: grace and good company!

Prov. Who's there? come in: the wifh deferves a welcome.

Duke. Dear Sir, ere long I'll vifit you again.

Claud. Moft holy Sir, I thank you.

Ifab. My Bufinefs is a word, or two, with Claudio.. Prov. And very welcome. Look, Signior, here's your fifter.in

Duke. Provost, a word with you.

Prov. As many as you please.

Duke Bring them to fpeak where I may be conceal'd,

Yet hear them.

[Exeunt Duke and Provoft.

Glaud. Now, fifter, what's the comfort?

Ifab. Why, as all comforts are; moft good in Deed: Lord Angelo, having affairs to heav'n,

Intends you for his fwift ambaffador;

Where you fhall be an everlasting leiger.

Therefore your beft appointment make with fpeed,
To morrow you fet on.

Glaud. Is there no remedy?

Ifab. None, but fuch remedy, as to fave a head, To cleave a heart in twain.

Claud. But is there any?

Ifab. Yes, brother, you may live: There is a devilish mercy in the judge,

If you'll implore it, that will free your life,

But fetter you 'till death.

Claud. Perpetual durance?

Ifab. Ay, juft; perpetual durance; a restraint,
Tho' all the world's vaftidity you had,
To a determin'd scope.

Claud. But in what nature?

Ifab. In fuch a one, as you, confenting to't, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear And leave you naked.

Claud. Let me know the point.

Ifab. Oh, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Left thou a fev'rous life fhould't entertain,
And fix or seven Winters more refpect

Than a perpetual Honour. Dar'ft thou die?
The fenfe of death is moft in apprehenfion;
And the poor Beetle, that we tread upon,
In corp'ral fufferance finds a pang as great,
As when a Giant dies.

Claud. Why give you me this fhame?
Think you, I can a refolution fetch
From flow'ry tenderness? if I muft die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,

And hug it in mine arms.

Ifab. There fpake my brother; there my father's grave

Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:

Thou art too noble to conferve a life

In base appliances. This outward-fainted Deputy,
Whose fettled vifage and delib'rate word

Nips youth i'th head; and follies doth emmew,
As faulcon doth the fowl; is yet a devil:
His filth within being caft, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.

Claud. The Princely Angelo?

Ifab. Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'ft body to inveft and cover

In Princely guards. Doft thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my virginity,

Thou might'ft be freed?

Claud. Oh, heavens! it cannot be.

Ifab. Yes, he would give't thee; from this rank offence


So to offend him ftill. This night's the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou dy't to morrow.

Claud. Thou shalt not do't.

Ifab. Oh, were it but my life,

I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.

Claud. Thanks, deareft Ifabel.

Ifab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to morrow.
Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him,

That thus can make him bite the law by th' nofe,
When he would force it? fure, it is no fin;

Or of the deadly feven it is the leaft.

Ifab. Which is the leaft?

Claud. If it were damnable, he being fo wife,
Why would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fin'd? oh Ifabel!

Ifab. What fays my brother?
Claud. Death's a fearful thing.

fab. And fhamed life a hateful.

Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where: To lye in cold obftruction, and to rot; This fenfible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted fpirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to refide In thrilling regions of thick-ribb'd ice, To be imprifon'd in the viewlefs winds, And blown with reftlefs violence round about The pendant world; or to be worse than worft Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling;-'tis too horrible!

The weariest and most loathed worldly life, (16)


(16) The wearieft, and moft loathed worldly Life,] This natural Fear of Claudio, from the Antipathy we have to Death, feems very little varied from that infamous Wifh of Mecenas recorded in the 101ft Epiftle of Seneca.

Debilem facito manu,

Debilem pede, coxa;
Tuber adftrue gibberum,
Lubricos quete dentes:

That age, ach, penury, imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradife
To what we fear of death.
Ifab. Alas! alas!

Claud. Sweet fifter, let me live;
What fin you do to fave a brother's life,
Nature difpenfes with the deed so far,
That it becomes a virtue.

Ifab. Oh you beast!

Oh faithlefs coward! oh difhoneft wretch
Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice?

Is't not a kind of inceft, to take life

From thine own fifter's fhame? what fhould I think?
Heav'n grant, my mother plaid my father fair:
For fuch a warped flip of wilderness

Ne'er iffu'd from his blood. Take my defiance,
Die, perifh! might my only bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it fhould proceed.
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy deaths
No word to fave thee.

Claud. Nay, hear me, Ifabel.

Ifab. Oh, fie, fie, fie!

Thy fin's not accidental, but a trade; Mercy to thee would prove it felf a bawd; 'Tis beft, that thou dy'ft quickly.

Claud. Oh hear me, Ifabella.

To them, Enter Duke and Provoft.

Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young fifter; but one word.

Ifab. What is your will?

Duke. Might you difpenfe with your leifure, I would by and by have fome fpeech with you: the fatisfaction I would require, is likewife your own benefit. Ifab. I have no fuperfluous leifure; my ftay muft be

Vita, dum fupereft, bene eft.

Hanc mihi, vel acutâ

Si fedeam cruce, fuftine.


Mr. Warburton.

A a


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