University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

A ROOM in the Pallace.
Enter Angelo Alone.
Ang.
When I wou'd Pray, and Think; I Think, and Pray
To several Objects! Heav'n has my empty Words,
But Isabella 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 cou'd 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.
Shew 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, they would make useful
So deal officious Throngs, with him that Swoons;
They Flock to help him, but stop up the Air,
With which he shou'd Revive: And so,
The Numerous Subjects of a King Belov'd,
Quit their own Home, and, with Rude Fondness, Press me
Into his Presence; where their Untaught Love
Must needs appear Offensive.

Enter Isabella.
Ang.
Well Isabella.

Isa.
I'm come to know your Pleasure.

Ang.
That you did know it, wou'd 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 Dye.

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, Stol'n 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 Dye,
By this Just Law? or else, to save his Life,
Give up your Self to the same Blemish,
That she now suffers, whom your Brother Stain'd.

Isa.
I'd rather give my Body then my Soul.

Ang.
I Talk not of your Soul; our compell'd 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,
Heav'n, let me bear it! It shall be my Pray'r,
To have it added to my Faults, not yours.

Ang.
Nay, but mind me; your Sense pursues not mine;
Or you'r Ignorant, or Craftily would seem so;
And that's not good. Then marke me, Isabel;
I'll speak more plain—Your Brother is to Dye.

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, cou'd free him from this Danger
What wou'd you do?

Isa.
For him, as for my self:
Th' Impressions of sharp VVhips, I'd wear as Rubys,
And ship my self to Death, as to a Bed,
E'r I wou'd yield my Honour up to Shame.

Ang.
Then must your Brother Dye.

Isa.
And better 'twere that he should Dye a while,
Then, for his Ransome, I shou'd Dye for ever.

Ang.
Then are not you as Cruel as the Law,
That you have Slander'd so?

Isa.
Lawful Mercy, Sir,
Is not at all A-kin to Foul Redemption.

Ang.
We all are frail.

Isa.
Else let my Brother Dye.

Ang.
Nay—VVomen are frail too.

Isa.
Yes, as the Glasses, where they View themselves.
VVomen are soft, as their Complexions; easie
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'r more, you'r none.
If you are one, as your Bright Form assures,
Then shew it now.

Isa.
I understand you not.

Ang.
Know then, I Love you.

Isa.
My Brother Lov'd Julietta,
And you've just told me he must dye for it.

Ang.
No: he shall live, if you'l reward my Love.

Isa.
Securely from your Power you take a License,
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 Amaz'd.

Ang.
How can'st 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! 'Spight of my Rigid Nature,
And the Acquir'd Severity of Custom
Before thy Eyes, grow soft, as Luxury;
Intemperate, as thoughtless Libertines;
And Rash, and Unadvised, as Youthful Love:
Yes, Isabella, I that have Condemn'd thy Brother.
I, 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 Unsully'd, 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 Dye, but Dye in Burning Toments.

Isa.
To whom shall I Complain? If I tell this,
Who will believe me?

Ang.
You have Consider'd right.
This is a Day of Joy, our Good Dukes Birth-Day;
And, in Complyance with Lord Escalus,
I have Devoted it to Mirth and Pastime:
And Love has given a tast 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 Heav'nly 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 banish'd from our Ears;
Remov'd 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, &c.
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 Pray'rs,
Or sell the Laws for a fond Womans Tears?
I fear, my Lord, because I thus comply,
To wear the Gaiety this day requires;
Attend your Sports, and listen to your Musick.
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 shews, my Loyal Love prepar'd, and that
You please to share e'em give me my double Joy,
The Pleasure's Noble, as 'tis Innocent.

Ang.
I do allow it—come let 'em begin.

The Second Entertainment.
Belinda SINGS.
[Exit.
The Spirit of the Sorceress descends to Æneas in likeness of Mercury.
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 VVonder,
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 Witches.
Witch.
Say, Beldam what's thy will?

Cho.
Harm's our Delight, and Mischief all our Skill.

Sorc.
The Queen of Carthage, whom we hate,
As we do all in Prosperous State,
E're Sun-set shall most Wretched prove,
Depriv'd of Fame, of Life, and Love.

Cho.
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, &c.

Witch.
Ruin'd e're 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, &c.

Sorc. and Witch.
But e're we this perform,
We'll Conjure for a Storm
To Mar their Hunting Sport,
And drive 'em back to Court.

Eccho.
In our deep vaulted Cell the Charm we'll prepare,
Too Dreadful a Practice for this open Air.

Eccho 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 Brothers danger,
Is here the storm must furnish Blest Occasion:
And when, my Dido, I've Possess'd 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, dress'd like a Fryer, and with him Fryer Thomas.
Duk.
Think not I've chang'd my Ducal Robes for these,
Because I Love—no 'tis a cause more wrinkl'd
Has made me assume this Habit, tho' your Duke.
We have strict Statutes, and sharp Penal Laws,
Which I have suffer'd Nineteen years to sleep,
Ev'n like an over-grown 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
Fixt all my Pow'r in Angelo, that he
May wake these drowsie Laws to Execution.

Fryer.
Ty'd up Justice, Sir, you soon might loose;
And 'twou'd 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 Pow'r that hinders not ill Deeds, commands them.

Fryer.
I am convinc'd.

Duke.
I have on Angelo impos'd
Th' unpleasant Pow'r of punishing; while I
In this Disguise may visit Prince and People:
And hear how both approve this means I've taken.

Fryer.
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 injur'd 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 Broaker 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.

Fryer.
'Twill not be difficult; because we always
Go forth in Pairs, ev'n 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?

Fryer.
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 wou'd 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'll leave 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 wou'd 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 ought
Beyond Possession of so pure a Virtue.
You say you are no Stranger to my Story:
You then have heard too of a Lady's Suff'rings,
Which I thro' Avarice, alas, have caus'd.
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 Murther,
Than if I'd ta'ne her Life.

Duke.
Have Comfort, Son; for Heav'n,
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 us'd,
When to secure the mighty Dowr of Juliet
I married her in private.

Duke.
Then are you married?

Claud.
I call all Heav'n to witness that we are.
A Father of your Order joyn'd our Hands.

Fryer.
His Name, my Son.

Claud.
'Twas Father Pierre, not long
Return'd to France to his own Monastery,
I've writ to him; but the too cruel Deputy,
Press'd by the barb'rous Avarice of Pedro,
Will not expect his Answer.

Duke.
Rise up, my Son.

Claud.
No, my good Father, till I have your Promise
To justifie 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 conceal'd our Wedding,
Till being out of his Wardship, and possess'd
Of all her Fortune, she might own it
Without so great a Hazard. But oh! that
He had taken all, had she but escap'd
This hateful Scandal, that I'm sure must torture
Her nice and vertuous Soul.

Duke.
Who is this Pedro?

Claud.
The Deputy's Privado, his Right-hand;
One that by well-acted Piety has gain'd
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 confin'd
Within a Cloyster's Walls during her Life,
And so secure himself her wealthy Dowr.

Duke.
Son, Put your trust in Heav'n, that can relieve
When least you hope it, I'll do my endeavour
To help your Fortune; but if my Pow'r's too small
T' assist in that, I will still help your Soul.

Claud.
I thank you, Fathers, and desire your Prayrs.

[Exit.
Duke.
I am confirm'd 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 confin'd
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 your self
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 still frail and ignorant:
But yet my Honour and Religion joyn'd,
Have taught me the full Knowledge of this Point;
And we are marry'd with all those holy Rites
The Church ordains: The pious Father Pierre
Of your good Order, joyn'd 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 to've wrong'd you?

Jul.
Yes, as I love the Woman that wrong'd him,
That has undone him, taken away his Life.
O Heav'n! prevent his Fate, or take me too.

Duke.
Resign your self to Heav'n: If you're Innocent, [Benedicite.
Be sure of Help. We'll to your Partner.

[Exit with the Fryer.
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 barr'st me from the sweet Retreat of Death!
O, Heav'n! my Claudio to these Arms restore;
Or, when he dies, O let me be no more!