University of Virginia Library

ACT. I.

SCENE I.

A Large HALL in the Palace.
On one side Enter Lucio. On the other Balthazar.
Lucio.
What, Balthazar Return'd from the Wars?

Bal.
Ev'n as you see, Friend Lucio, spight of Bullets
Now Mars is gon 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, Blew, Gray, Black,
My Courage will Attack 'em.

Luc.
Hold! my Friend:
You that go a Volunteering to the Wars,
And rather than not Fight, seek Forraign Quarrels,
When your own Prince has none, must go seek Love
In other Countrys 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, Segnior, now will do.

Balth.
Prithee be plain.

Luc.
Why thus it is then, mind me;
Our Duke is gon, Incognito, to Travel.

Bal.
That I have heard: And that Lord Angelo
Is left his Deputy.

Luc.
Right, Sir; And whether
The Novelty of Pow'r thus turns his Brain:
Or, that the Body-Politic's a Horse,
Rid by the Governour; who, newly seated,
Lets it strait 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 pick'd out an Act
That Dooms Unlicens'd 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 rous'd it.
He has made no New Examples, has he yet?

Luc.
I cannot say there yet is one dispach'd;
But every Prison in the Town is full
Of Bauds, Pimps, and VVhoring Soldiers, like your self, Sir.
And Claudio, so fam'd 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 Condemn'd
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 cou'd 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 Repuls'd; nay, the Lord Escalus,
The next in Dignity to himself, has Su'd,
In vain, for Claudio's Pardon.

Bal.
If 'tis so,
How can this Sow'r Governour be pleas'd?
With Musick, Shew, and Opera's; 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 prepar'd,
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' Extreams of this Wild Law.
But that he may not tire him with this Musick,
He devides the Entertainment into Four.
But see they come.

Enter Angelo, Escalus and Attendants.
Ang.
We must not make a Scare-crow of the Law,
Setting it up to Fright the Birds of Prey,
Till Custom make it their Pearch, 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 wou'd Save, had a most Noble Father;
And has, himself, perform'd most Noble Deeds
To serve his Country, and declares he's Marry'd.

Ang.
He that contemns his Countrys Laws, Sir, loses
His fairest best Pretence of serving her:
For Passions more, than Virtue, oft Inspire
Hot Youth to signalize 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 Injur'd Honour calls upon my Justice.

Esca.
Whose base Hypocrisie conceals their Malice,
Under that Name: They wou'd 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 Publick Pennance,
To end her Life within a Monastry.

Ang.
No more, good Escalus; nor let your Friendship
Betray you to abuse the Pious Pedro.

Esca.
Set but your self then in Claudio's Place;
Love, Opportunity, Consent, and Boyling Youth,
Have they not, in your Time, at least Alarm'd you?
If not Compell'd 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 Sentenc'd.
Ha! Belthazar! I saw you not, How long Arriv'd?

Bal.
But just alighted, Sir; for my Duty,
To kiss your Hands, forbid Delays of Dress.

Ang.
'Tis well; no Flattery.

Enter Servant.
Serv.
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 Bless'd Refuge of a Cloister.

Esca.
She does my Lord; but e'r 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 dissolv'd by Whining Prayers and Tears?
Enter Isabella.
She's Beautiful indeed. Your Will, fair Maid?

Isa.
I am a Mournful Suiter to your Grace,
If you'll vouchsafe to hear me.

Ang.
Well; Your Suit?

Isa.
I have a Brother that's Condemn'd to Dye.
I do beseech you, let it be his Fault,
And not Himself.

Esca.
Heav'n give thee moving Graces.

Ang.
Condemn the Fault, and yet the Acter spare;
Why every Fault's condemn'd e'r it be done.
Mine were the very Cypher 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, betray'd
To the hard Censure of the Law. He's Marry'd,
But wanting Witness of the Holy Contract,
The Blind Dead Letter claims him as a Forfeit.

Ang.
Be not deceiv'd with vain pretence of Virtue;
How easie '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 Stroak,
By some Sinister means. No; he must Dye.

Isa.
Must he needs Dye?

Ang.
There is no Remedy.

Isa.
Yes; I believe that you might Pardon him,
And neither Heav'n nor Man Grieve at the Mercy.

Ang.
I will not do't.

Isa.
You can then if you wou'd.

Ang.
That which I shou'd 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 sentenc'd, '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 Kings Crown, nor the deputed Sword:
The Marshals Truncheon, or the Judges Robe,
Becomes them with so beautiful a Grace,
As Mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you might have err'd like him,
But he, like you, wou'd not have been so stern.

Ang.
Ha! my Soul! how near she strikes on Truth.
[aside.
I pray begon.

Isa.
Oh! that you were Isabella Suing,
And I invested with your Power, you soon
Shou'd see the Sorrow of a Sisters Tears
Shou'd cleanse the foulness of a Brothers 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 wou'd you do,
If he, who on the utmost top of Heights,
On Judges sits, shou'd 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 dy'd to morrow.

Isa.
To morrow! he's not prepar'd, spare, oh! spare him!
Let Mercy speak, Oh! give him time, the Guilty
In this are Numerous, yet none have dy'd.
And if he must, Oh! let him dye Prepar'd.

Ang.
That none have dy'd, has made the Law contemn'd;
The Number of Offenders had been less
Had the first suffer'd.

Isa.
My Brother has some Plea,
For he is Married; not like others Guilty,
Save in Apperance.

Ang.
The Law only Judges
Of things as they appear, and then he's guilty.

Isa.
You shou'd instruct the Law: Oh! shew some Pity.

Ang.
I shew it most of all when I shew Justice,
For then I pity those I do not know,
When Pardon'd Crimes, might teach 'em to offend,
Be satisfy'd your Brother dyes to morrow.

Isa.
So you must be the first that gives this Sentence,
And he the first that suffers.

Esca.
That's well urg'd.

Isa.
If Men cou'd Thunder
As great Jove does, we ne'r shou'd be at quiet,
For every Cholerik petty Officer
Wou'd use the Magazeen of Heaven for Thunder;
Nothing but Thunder: Oh! Merciful Heav'n!
Thou rather with thy sharp and Sulphurous Bolt,
Dost split the Knotty and Obdurat Oak,
Than the soft Mirtle. Oh! but Man, Proud Man,
(Dress'd in a little Breef Authority,
Most ignorant of what he thinks himself
Assur'd) In his frail Glasly Essence, like
An Angry Ape, plays such Fantastick Tricks,
Before High Heav'n, as wou'd make Angels laugh,
If they were Mortal, and had Spleens like us.

Esca.
To him, he will relent, I find him coming.

Ang.
Why shew you all this Passion before me?

Isa.
Authority, tho' it may err like others,
Yet has a kind of Medicine in it's self
That skins 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'r give Sentence from your Tongue against his Life.

Ang.
Ha! She speaks such pointed Truths, that wounds
My guilty Soul,—farwell.

[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.

Isa.
Angels Preserve you.

[Exit.
Ang.
From thee—ev'n from thy Virtue.
What's this I feel? Is it her fault or mine?
[Aside.
The Tempter, or the Tempted? Who sins most? Ha!
[Aside.
Not She; nor does She Tempt, but it is I,
[Aside.
That lying by the Violet, in the Sun,
[Aside.
Corrupt, like Carrion, by his friendly Beams,
[Aside.
But Ripen not like the Flower into Sweets.

[Aside.
Esca.
He's grown Thoughtful, I hope he's won.

Ang.
Can Virtue win us more to Vice, than Vice?
Oh! fie! fie! fie! What dost thou Angelo?
[aside.
Is it her Virtue, that thou lov'st? oh! no!
[aside.
Thou false and deluding Guide, who in Disguise
[aside.
Of Virtues shape, leadst us thro' Heav'n to Hell!
[aside.
No Vicious Beauty cou'd with Practis'd Art,
[aside.
Subdue my Heart like Virgin Innocence.
[aside.
I'll think no more on't, but with Musick chase
[aside.
Away the Guilty Image.
[aside.
Musick they say can Calm the ruffled Soul,
[aside.
I'm sure a mighty Tempest ruffles mine.
[aside.
My Lord, if your Diversions now are ready
I am dispos'd to see 'em.

Esc.
Please you to sit, they wait but your Command.

Luc.
Begin the Opera, the Deputy attends.

They all sit
Ang.
This Musick is no Cure for my Distemper;
For, every Note, to my Enchanted Ears,
Seem'd 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.
Thieves, 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 uneasie with its raging Fire;
Yet seek the Object to encrease Desire,
Whose Fury else, wou'd, of it self, Expire.