 | The Law against Lovers |  |
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ACT III.
Scene I.
Enter Isabel, Angelo.Isab.
I am come to know your pleasure.
Ang.
That you might know it would much better please me,
Than to demand what 'tis: your Brother cannot live.
Isab.
Even so, Heaven keep your Excellence.
Ang.
Stay a little,
For he perhaps may live awhile: nay, and
As long as you or I, since none can know
Their own appointed ends. Yet, he must dye.
Isab.
Under your sentence?
Ang.
Yes.
Isab.
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.
He had a filthy vice. It were as good
To pardon him that has from Nature stoln
A man already made, as to permit
Their sawcy sweetness, who Heavens Image coyn
In Stamps which are forbid.
Isab.
That is set down in Heaven, but not on Earth.
Ang.
How? say you so? then I shall quickly poze you.
Which had you rather, that the most just Law
Should take your Brothers life, or to redeem him,
Give up your pretious self to such a blemish
As she permitted whom he stain'd?
Isab.
I'll rather give my Body than my Soul.
Ang.
I talk not of your soul. Our compell'd sins
Do more for number stand, than for account.
Isab.
How say you, Sir?
Ang.
Nay, I'll not warrant that: for I can speak
Against the thing I say: answer to this.
I (now the voice of the recorded Law)
Pronounce a sentence on your Brothers life,
Might there not be a charity in sin,
To save this Brother's life?
Isab.
Please you to do't,
I'll take it as a peril to my soul,
It is no sin at all, but charity.
Ang.
You doing it at peril of your soul,
Make equal poize of sin and charity.
Isab.
That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
Heav'n let me bear't. If it be sin for you
To grant my suit, I'll make it still my Prayer,
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And not to your account.
Ang.
Nay, but hear me.
Your sense pursues not mine; sure you are ignorant;
Or seem so craftily, and that's not good.
Isab.
Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,
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Ang.
Thus Wisdom wishes to appear most bright,
When it does tax it self; as a black Mask
Often proclaims a cover'd beauty more,
Than beauty does it self, when openly
Displaid. But mark me Isabell,
Or if I may more plainly be receiv'd,
I'll speak more home. Your Brother is to dye.
Isab.
So!
Ang.
And his offence is such, as it appears
Accountant to the Law.
Isab.
True!
Ang.
Admit no other way could save his life,
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
Unless by way of question) but that you
(Finding your self desir'd of such a man
Whose credit with the Judge, could free your Brother)
Must either yield the treasures of your youth,
Or else must let him dye: what would you do?
Isab.
As much for my poor Brother, as for Isabell.
Th'impression of sharp whips I gladly would
As Rubies wear, and strip my self
Even for a Grave, as for a Bed, e're I
Would yield my honour up to shame.
Ang.
Then must your Brother dye.
Isab.
And 'twere the cheaper way.
Better it were a Brother dye a while,
Than that a Sister, by redeeming him,
Should dye for ever.
Ang.
Are you not then as cruel as that sentence
Which you have slander'd so?
Isab.
Ignoble ransom, no proportion bears
To pardon freely given; and lawful mercy,
Is not at all akin to foul redemption.
Ang.
You seem'd of late to make the Law a Tyrant;
And so your Brothers guiltiness excus'd,
As if it rather might be stil'd
A recreation than a vice.
Isab.
O pardon me my Lord. Oft it falls out,
That Pleaders speak not what they mean,
In hope to get what they would have.
I sometimes may excuse the thing I hate,
For his advantage, whom I dearly love.
Ang.
We are all frail.
Isab.
Else let my Brother dye.
Ang.
Nay, Women are frail too.
Isab.
I, as the glasses where they see themselves,
Which are as eas'ly broke, as they make forms.
Women? help Heaven! pray call us ten times frail,
For we are soft, as our complexions are,
And soon a bad impression take.
Ang.
And from this testimony of your own Sex,
(Since I suppose we are not made so strong,
But that our faults, may shake our frames) let me
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That is, a woman, if y'are more, y'are none,
If you be one (as you are well exprest
By all external warrants) shew it now.
Isab.
I have no Tongue but one. Gentle my Lord,
Let me intreat you speak the former language.
Ang.
Plainly conceive, I love you.
Isab.
My Brother did love Juliet;
And you tell me he shall dye for it.
Ang.
He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.
Isab.
Your pow'r may your discretion licence give,
And make you seem much fouler than you are,
To draw on others.
Ang.
Believe me on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.
Isab.
Ha! little honour, to be much believ'd,
Your purpose is pernicious now discern'd.
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 Isabell?
My unsoil'd name, austerity of life,
My word against you, and my place i'th' State,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you'll be stifled in your own report.
And now I give my sensual race the rains.
Yield to my passion, or your Brother must
Not only dye, but your unkindness shall
Draw out his death to lingring pains.
To morrow answer me, or by that love
Which now does guide me, I will be
A Tyrant to him.
[Exit.
Isab.
To whom shall I complain?
If I tell this, who will believ't?
I'll to my Brother straight,
That he may know false Angelo's request,
And then prepare for his eternal rest.
[Exit.
Enter Benedick and Beatrice, several ways.
Ben.
I was told, Lady, you would speak with me.
Beat.
I would, and I would not.
Ben.
Then I'll stay, or I will not stay;
'Tis all one to me.
Beat.
Nay, I know you are but an indifferent man:
Yet now by chance, I rather am inclin'd
That you should stay.
Ben.
And 'tis a greater chance
That our inclinations should so soon meet;
For I will stay.
Beat.
Your Brother is a proper Prince, he rules
With a Rod in's hand instead of a Scepter,
Like a Country School-Master in a Church;
He keeps a large Palace with no Attendants,
And is fit to have none but Boys for his Subjects.
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As ill as he governs (if my
Design thrive against the Fetters of marriage,
As his does against the liberty of Lovers)
This rule may last till the end of the world;
For there will be no next Generation.
Beat.
Would I might trust you Benedick.
Ben.
Madam, you believe me to have some honour.
If you have most secretly invented
A new Dressing, can you think I'll reveal
The fashion, before you wear it?
Beat.
Notwithstanding your seeming indisposition
To inventions of Fashions, yet there be
Those in Turin, who have intercepted
Packets between you and Taylors of Paris.
Well, though those are but light correspondents,
Yet I would trust you in matter of weight.
Ben.
I hope, Lady, you have no plot upon me.
I'll marry no woman.
Beat.
I did not think you had been so well natur'd,
As to prevent the having any of
Your breed. Marry you? what should I do with you?
Dress you in my old Gown, and make you my
Waiting Woman?
Ben.
A waiting Woman with a Beard?
Beat.
I shall ne'er endure a Husband with a Beard.
I had rather lye in woolen.
Ben.
Though you disguise matrimonial pretensions,
With pretty scorn, yet I am glad I have
A Beard for my own defence. And though fashion
Makes me shave much (and that you believe me
A lover of fashions) yet mine shall grow
To a very bush, for my greater security.
But, pray proceed to your matter of weight.
Beat.
I will trust you; not as a man of love,
But a man of Arms.
Ben.
At your own peril.
And more t'encourage you, I will declare
That though I'm very loth to come within
The narrow compass of a Wedding Ring;
Yet I owe every fair Lady a good turn.
But to the business.
Beat.
In brief you must
Renew familiarity with your Brother;
And steal the use of his Signet to seal
Julietta's pardon and her liberty,
And Claudio's too: this done, they shall practise
Their escape, I'll endeavour mine; and you
Signior may shift for your self.
Ben.
This is but betraying an ill Brother,
For a good purpose; I'll do't if I can.
Beat.
You shall give me the Signet, for I'll have
All in my own management.
Ben.
No, though I rob my Brother of the Signet;
You shall not rob me of the danger.
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Then I'll proceed no further.
Ben.
That as you please.
Beat.
You would have the honour of the business.
Ben.
'Tis due to my Sex.
Beat.
Fare you well Sir—yet you
May come again an hour hence, to receive
An ill look.
Ben.
That will not fright me much; for you can look
No better than you use to do.
[Ex. Ben. at one door. Enter Viola at another.
Viol.
Sister, I have got Verses. Signior Lucio
Made them: he and Balthazar are within.
Beat.
Is Lucio become a man of meetre?
That's the next degree upward to the giddy
Station of a foolish Lover. They are
Compos'd into a Song too. Sing it Viola.
Viola sings the SONG.
Viol.
[1.]
Wake all the dead! what hoa! what hoa!How soundly they sleep whose Pillows lye low?
They mind not poor Lovers who walk above
On the Decks of the World in storms of love.
No whisper now nor glance can pass
Through Wickets or through Panes of Glass;
For our Windows and Doors are shut and barr'd.
Lye close in the Church, and in the Church-yard.
In ev'ry Grave make room, make room!
The Worlds at an end, and we come, we come.
2.
The State is now Love's foe, Love's foe;Has seiz'd on his Arms, his Quiver and Bow;
Has pinion'd his wings, and fetter'd his feet,
Because he made way for Lovers to meet.
But O sad chance, his Judge was old;
Hearts cruel grow, when blood grows cold.
No man being young, his process would draw.
O Heavens that love should be subject to law!
Lovers go woo the dead, the dead!
Lye two in a Grave, and to Bed, to Bed!
Enter Lucio, Balthazar.
Beat.
Signior Lucio, you are grown so desp'rate
As to write Verses.
Luc.
Very little business, much love,
And no money makes up a parcel-Poet.
But the Verses are not mine.
Beat.
Whose are they?
Luc.
Balthazar knows the Author.
Balt.
Not better than you, who had them from him.
Luc.
Pray, Madam, let him tell you.
Balt.
Excuse me, Sir, I am as chary of
Getting my friend the ill name of a Poet,
As you are.
Beat.
Why Gentlemen, you will not make
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When your Watches are ready to strike?
Pray whose are the Verses?
Luc.
Madam, the Author's name is Benedick.
Beat.
Is't possible? I am glad he lies bare
Under the lash of the Wits. There are now
No such Tormentors in Turin as the Wits.
Poor Benedick, they'll have him on the Rack
E're night; why they will draw a strong line, to
The subtle weakness of a Spinners thred.
Balth.
I fear he will be quickly liable
To a greater torment, than any that
The Wits can inflict.
Luc.
Madam, we are your vow'd Servants,
We cannot chuse but tell you all. Balthazar,
You made the first discovery, you may speak it.
Balt.
Madam, 'tis not civil to lengthen your
Expectation. He is in love.
Beat.
In love? that were a sudden change, and would shew
More of the Moon in him, than is in a Mad-woman.
Good Balthazar with whom?
Balt.
Lucio was ready to dye laughing when
He found it, and swore then he would tell you.
Beat.
Keep your oath, Lucio; who is't that has caught him?
Luc.
Nay, Madam, you now impose upon me.
Beat.
Let me intreat you.
Luc.
Why then, as sure as you can love no Lover,
He loves you.
Beat.
This sounds like fiction and design.
Good Balthazar, he is but newly gone
From hence, go seek him out, and bring him back;
Your friendship may prevail with him.
Luc.
It will beget more mirth, than belongs
To a Morrice, in the month of May.
Balt.
But I beseech you no words of our discov'ry.
Beat.
Signior, you may trust me.
[Exit Balthazar.
Perhaps, Lucio, you cannot think it strange,
That I believe you of my Party;
And fitter for my trust than Balthazar.
Luc.
O no, Madam, I have been trusted by
Young Ladies e're now.
Beat.
Are you sure Benedick loves me? he has
No fashion of a Lover in publick.
Luc.
Poor man, he has two contrary extreams
Of Love-madness. He is in company
As fantastical as a Fencer after
His victory in a Prize; but in private
He will sigh more than an old Dutch Pilot
That has lost his Ship.
Beat.
I shall have rare diversion if his fit holds.
Luc.
It is not good to jest away mens lives.
Beat.
I see you are serious: but will you swear this?
Luc.
If you can endure the coorseness of swearing;
I've been unlucky at play in my time,
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Beat.
Stay Sir, you may take up the fools commodity
Of belief, without ingaging of oaths:
I know you are a man of excellent temper.
Luc.
Madam, I swear by—
Beat.
I pray Sir hold!—
Luc.
Nay if you would put me to't.
Beat.
Lucio, you must diswade him from his love;
And I must trust you. I have but one heart,
And that is already dispos'd off.
Luc.
Madam, all Lovers compar'd to Benedick,
Are but lamentable Courtiers in old Cloaths.
Beat.
Truly, he was wont to be merry.
Luc.
E're he felt Love, his heart was as sound
As any Bell, and his Tongue was the Clapper:
For what his Heart thought, his Tongue would speak.
Take heed, you must not lose him.
Beat.
Lucio, my heart is design'd to another.
Luc.
Madam, may I be bold t'enquire to whom?
Beat.
You know the man.
Luc.
Be he what he will, he must shew as ugly
As a tall man, sitting on a low stool
Before a Chimney, compar'd to Benedick.
Beat.
You ought not to say so, when I name him.
Luc.
Madam, I dare justifie my friend.
Beat.
I shall be angry if you compare him
To him whom I can name. Suppose it is
Signior Lucio.
Luc.
Madam, I confess Comparisons
Are somewhat odious.
Beat.
O, are they so? I pray let me advise you
Not to lessen your self; though I perceive
You canot chuse but make much of your friend.
Luc.
Sits the wind on that side? I must hoise sail
With Top, and Top-gallant.
Beat.
But are you not ty'd, Sir, by some deep vow
To wooe for Benedick? I am very tender
Of Mens vows.
Luc.
Will you believe me, Madam?
Beat.
Without oaths I beseech you.
Luc.
He knows as much the matter of this visit,
As I do of the Great Turk's particular
Inclination to Red Herring.
Beat.
Are you in earnest?
Luc.
Balthazar and I
Were only over officious to serve him.
Beat.
Nor he is not in love?
Luc.
No more than a man that goes continually
To Sea to make discoveries.
Beat.
Then it appears a little strange,
That you made this hearty address for him.
Luc.
On my honour, Madam, it was to get
Some opportunity to move for my self.
Beat.
And you think him no extraordinary wit?
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So, so, a modest wit, somewhat out of countenance
Being laught at; for then he grows as melancholy
As a Lodge in a Warren.
Beat.
Right, I use to laugh at him.
And then there's a Partridge wing sav'd at night;
For the Fool will eat no Supper.
Luc.
Madam, I see you know him.
Beat.
Signior Lucio, be kind to your self.
[Exit.
Luc.
Lucio, if thou were't any thing but Lucio,
I would hug thee to death. Some men in choler
Rail against Fortune, but I adore her:
She has made her sail of my Mothers Smock.
I would the Poets would send us a dozen
Such Goddesses.
[Enter Balthazar.
Bal.
I have been seeking Benedick: and I
Am told now, he's gone up the back-stairs,
And is in private with the Deputy.
Where's the Lady Beatrice?
Luc.
Balthazar, trouble not your self, for men
May often lose their labour.
Balt.
How so?
Luc.
Benedick is not the man she aims at.
Balt.
He's very singular and eminent.
But I confess, this angling for Ladies
Is a very subtle sport.
Luc.
They are Fishes of fantastical palats;
And will sometimes sooner bite at a Worm,
Than at a May-Flye.
Balt.
She has a full fortune. Twelve thousand Crowns
A year.
Luc.
He will be safe from Creditors that has her.
[Enter Viola.
Viol.
Signior Lucio, my Sister would speak with you.
[Exit.
Luc.
Balthazar, I must e'en retire from business;
You see I cannot rest for Ladies.
Balt.
I prethee put the matter home.
[Exeunt several ways.
Enter Duke in Fryers Habit, Claudio, and Provost.
Claud.
Father, I thank you! I am now of Death's
Small party, 'gainst the Crowd who strife for life.
[Enter Isab.
Isab.
What hoa! Grace dwell within!
Prov.
Who's there? the wish deserves a welcome.
Duke.
Dear Sir, e're long I'll visit you again.
Claud.
Most rev'rend Sir, I thank you.
Isab.
My business is a word or two with Claudio.
Prov.
You are welcome. Look Signior, here's your Sister.
Duke.
Provost, a word.
Prov.
As many as you please.
Duke.
Bring me, where I conceal'd
May hear them speak.
[Ex. Duke, Provost.
Claud.
Now Sister, what's the comfort?
Isab.
'Tis such as earthly 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 on.
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Is there no remedy?
Isab.
Yes Brother, you may live;
There is a devillish mercy in the Judge
If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death.
Claud.
Perpetual durance?
Isab.
'Tis worse than close restraint, and painful too
Beyond all tortures which afflict the body;
For 'tis a Rack invented for the mind.
Claud.
But of what nature is it?
Isab.
'Tis such, as should you give it your consent,
Would leave you stript of all the wreaths of War,
All ornaments my Father's valour gain'd,
And shew you naked to the scornful world.
Claud.
Acquaint me with my doom.
Isab.
If I could fear thee, Claudio, I should weep
Lest thou a shameful life shouldst entertain,
And six or seven short Winters more respect,
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou dye?
The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the small Beetle, when we tread on it,
In corp'ral suff'rance, finds a pang as great,
As when a Gyant dyes.
Claud.
Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
From tenderness? If I must dye,
I'll welcome darkness as a shining Bride.
Isab.
There spoke my Brother: there my Fathers Grave
Utter'd a chearful voice. Yes, you must dye,
You are too noble to conserve a life
By wretched remedies. Our outward Saint
Does in his gracious looks disguise the Devil.
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A Pond, as foul as Hell.
Claud.
The princely Angelo?
Isab.
Oh, he is uglier than the frightful Fiend,
By Pencils of our cloyster'd Virgins drawn.
Speak, Claudio, could you think, you might on earth
Be guiltless made by him, if I would Heaven
(Which never injur'd us) fouly offend?
Claud.
Infernal Angelo! can this be true?
Isab.
Yes, he would clear you from your blackest crimes,
By making me much blacker than himself,
This night's the time, when he would have me do
What I abhor to name, or else you must
Be dead to morrow.
Claud.
Thou shalt not do't.
Isab.
O, were it but my life,
I would for your deliverance throw it down,
Most frankly, Claudio.
Claud.
Thanks dear Isabella.
Isab.
Be ready, Claudio, for your death to morrow.
Claud.
Has he Religion in him? sure he thinks
It is no sin, or of the deadly seven
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Isab.
Which is the least?
Claud.
If it were damnable, he being wise
Why would he for the momentary taste
Of lust, eternally be fed with fire?
But Isabell—
Isab.
What says my Brother?
Claud.
Death is a fearful thing.
Isab.
And living shame more hateful.
Sure you have study'd what it is to dye.
Claud.
Oh Sister, 'tis to go we know not whither.
We lye in silent darkness, and we rot;
Where long our motion is not stopt; for though
In Graves none walk upright (proudly to face
The Stars) yet there we move again, when our
Corruption makes those worms in whom we crawl.
Perhaps the Spirit (which is future life)
Dwells Salamander-like, unharm'd in fire:
Or else with wand'ring winds is blown about
The world. But if condemn'd like those
Whom our incertain thought imagines howling;
Than the most loath'd and the most weary life
Which Age, or Ache, want, or imprisonment
Can lay on Nature, is a Paradise
To what we fear of death.
Isab.
Alas, alas!
Claud.
Sweet Sister! I would live,
Were not the ransom of my life much more
Than all your honour and your virtue too
(By which you are maintain'd) can ever pay,
Without undoing both.
Isab.
Prepare your self, your line of life is short.
Claud.
I am prepar'd: but Sister, if
Your Brother you did ever love; or if
Our Mothers pity may your pattern be,
Let Juliet in your tender bosom dwell;
Who has no blemish, if such Laws
As innocent antiquity allow'd,
Were now of force, or if Religion here
In Turin, did not more subsist
By publick form, than private use.
Isab.
You want Authority to tax the Law.
Let your submission your last virtue be.
Claud.
Will you be good to Juliet?
Isab.
I will invite her to my breast, and to
A cloyster'd shade, where we with mutual grief
Will mourn, in sad remembrance of our loss.
Claud.
Your promise is now register'd in Heaven.
Bear her this fatal pledge of our first Vows.
[Gives her a Ring.
Farewel. To cloyst'rall kindness both
Retire, where you may ever live above
The rage of pow'r, and injuries of love.
[Exit, and the Duke steps in.
Duke.
Vouchsafe a word, young Sister, but one word.
Isab.
What is your will?
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I would some satisfaction crave of that,
In which you likewise may have benefit.
Isab.
My sorrows, Father, hasten me away.
I must beseech you to be brief.
Duke.
The hand which made you fair, has made you good.
Th'assault which Angelo has to
Your virtue given, chance to my knowledge brings.
I have o'reheard you, and with much astonishment
I gaze on th'Image you have made of Angelo.
Isab.
How is the noble Duke deceiv'd in such
A Substitute? whose wickedness I will
Proclaim to all the world.
Duke.
Your accusation he will soon avoid,
By saying he but tryal of
Your virtue made; therefore I wish you would
Conceal his horrid purpose till fit time
Shall serve you at the Duke's return:
Do you conceive my counsel good?
Isab.
Father I am oblig'd to follow it.
Duke.
Where lodge you, virtuous Maid?
Isab.
The Sisterhood of Saint Clare will soon inform you.
I lodge in the Apartment for probation.
Duke.
There I'll attend you Daughter. Grace preserve you.
[Exeunt several ways.
Enter Benedick and Beatrice at several doors, and Viola with her.
Beat.
O Sir! you are a very princely Lover!
You cannot woo but by Ambassadors;
And may chance to marry by Proxy.
Ben.
Your wit flows so fast
That I'll not stem the tyde; I'll cast Anchor,
And consult in your Cabin how t'avoid
Danger. The Rocks are very near us.
Beat.
How now? afraid of the Deputy's Ghost
E're he be dead? my Sister shall lead you
Through the dark.
Ben.
There is the Pardon
Sign'd for Juliet and for Claudio too.
Beat.
I thank you, Benedick. Give it me.
Ben.
You are as nimble as a Squirrel, but
The Nuts are not so soon crackt.
Beat.
Unless I have it I'll take back my thanks.
Ben.
If it be possible to fix Quick-silver
Stay but a little.
Beat.
What would you say?
Ben.
Eschalus is in the Plot,
And was brought to't with more fears, than a furr'd
Alderman to an insurrection
Of Prentices.
Beat.
Signior Eschalus? could his gravity
Venture to change his Gold Chain for a Halter?
Ben.
I was fain to pretend hourly correspondence
With th'absent Duke; which gain'd me his respect.
I assur'd him of promotion, and then
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And fellow-States-man my Brother. For men
Of that Tribe are very loving, but especially
To themselves. He surpriz'd the Signet,
And counterfeited the hand.
Beat.
Give it me, I long to be about it.
Ben.
A little patience; You would make your self
Ready without your Glass.
Beat.
These male-Conspirators are so tedious.
Ben.
I must convey it to the Provost, and
Engage his secrecy.
Beat.
Make haste, you must not stay
So long as to be civil to him at parting.
Ben.
My Coach attends me at the Gate.
Beat.
O, I forgot! your two Confed'rates have
Been here, and brought verses from you.
Ben.
Verses? and from me?
Beat.
Yes, and they woo'd for you, but Lucio
Was soon perswaded to speak for himself.
He says you are a meer Country-Wit.
Ben.
I'll dip him in this Plot, till he grow solemn
With business. If it were fit
To be malitious, that Caytiff, Lucio, should have his
Coxcomb cut off for foolish Treason.
[Exeunt several ways.
Enter Eschalus meeting Benedick.
Esch.
My Lord, the Warrant for the Pardon? have you it?
Ben.
Why ask you, Sir?
Esch.
Still wear it in your hand, and watch it there.
Ben.
I keep it 'tween my Finger and my Thumb,
As close as a catcht Flea.
Are you afraid it will skip from me?
Esch.
The matter is of dreadful consequence.
Ben.
Fear nothing, Sir; the World would still
Run swiftly round; but for you State-Cripples,
Who make it halt with your politick stops
Of too much caution.
Esch.
If your Brother, the Deputy,
Circumvent us, you'll secure me by the Duke?
Ben.
You shall add a lease of my life to your own.
Be resolute, I am in haste.
[Exeunt several ways.
Enter Jailor, Juliet.
Viola knocking within.
Viol.
within.
My Cousin Juliet, are you here?
[Jailor opens the door.
This fellow looks like a man boyl'd
[Enter Viola.
In Pomp-water. Is he marry'd.
Jul.
Are you not frighted with this dismal place?
How does your Sister? speak, does she not blush
When she remembers me?
Viol.
I bring you good news!
Cousin, I would not meet that man in the dark.
Does he dwell here to lock up children
That are imprison'd for crying?
Jul.
Tell me your happy news; Dear Viola!
Viol.
Nay I can tell you none, yet 'tis very good.
You shall hear all to morrow.
302
To morrow is the last in my short Calendar.
Viol.
I have heard more than I will speak. You shall
Come forth and lye with me, and dream all night
Of new Dressings, and dance all day.
Jul.
Would I had ne're outliv'd this innocence.
Viol.
Do your Judges dwell here? were I that man,
I would walk in the dark and fright 'em.
Jul.
That man does do you hurt. Let us retire.
Had I been wither'd at her Beauties spring,
And stay'd from growing at her growth of mind,
I had not known, the cruel nor the kind.
Those who outlive her years do but improve
The knowledge of those griefs which grow with Love.
[Exeunt.
| The Law against Lovers | |