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. Ifab. How fay you? Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can fpeak Against the thing I fay. Answer to this: I, now the voice of the recorded law, Ifab. Please you to do't, I'll take it as a peril to my foul, Ang. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your foul, Ifab. That I do beg his life, if it be fin, Heav'n, let me bear it! you, granting my fuit, To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answer. 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 graciously to know I am no better. Ang. Thus Wifdom wishes to appear moft bright, When it doth tax it felf: as thefe black mafques Proclaim an en-fhield beauty ten times louder, Than beauty could difplay'd. But mark me, To be received plain, I'll fpeak more grofs; Your brother is to die. Ifab. So. Ang. And his offence is fo, as it appears that pain. Ang. Ang. Admit no other way to fave his life, Ifab. As much for my poor brother, as my felf; That longing I've been fick for, ere I'd yield Ang. Then must your brother die. Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the Sentence, That you have flander'd fo? Ifab. An ignominious ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houfes; lawful mercy, fure, Is nothing kin to foul redemption. Ang. You feem'd of late to make the law a tyrant, And rather prov'd the fliding of your brother A merriment, than a vice. Ifab. Oh pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we fpeak not what we mean: I fomething do excufe the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail. Ifab. Elfe let my brother die, (13) (13) Elfe let my Brother dye, If If not a Feodary, but only He, &c.] This is fo obfcure a Paffage, but fo fine in its Application, that it deferves to be explain'd. A Feo dary If not a feodary, but only he, Ifab. Ay, as the glaffes where they view themselves; Ang. I think it well; And from this teftimony of your own fex, By putting on the deftin❜d livery. Ijab. I have no tongue but one; gentle my lord, Ifab. My brother did love Juliet; And you tell me, that he fhall die for it. Ang. He fhall not, Ifabel, if you give me love. Which feems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Ang. Believe me, on mine Honour, My words express my purpose. 66 Ifab. Ha! little Honour to be much believ'd, dary was One, that, in the Times of Vaffalage, 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 premifed, let us come to a Paraphrafe of our Author's Words: "We are all frail, fays An gelo; yes, replies Ifabella; if all Mankind were not Feodaries, who owe what they have to this Tenure of Imbecillity, and who fucceed "each other by the fame Tenure, as well as my Brother, I would give him up. "And the comparing Mankind, (who, according to fome 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! feeming, feeming!I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't: Sign me a present Pardon for my brother, Or, with an out-ftretch'd throat, I'll tell the world Aloud, what man thou art. Ang. Who will believe thee, Ifabel? My unfoil'd Name, th' Auftereness of my Life, Say what you can; my falfe o'erweighs your true. Bidding the Law make curtfie to their Will; On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up; To fuch abhorr'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live, chafte; and, brother, dies I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request; And fit his mind to death, for his foul's Reft. [Exit. АСТ SCENE, the Prison. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. DUKE. O, then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo? Duke. Be abfolute for death: or death, or life, That none but fools would reck; a breath thou art, That doft this habitation, where thou keep'ft, And yet runn'ft tow'rd him ftill. Thou art not noble; (14) Reafon thus with Life; If I do lofe thee, I do lofe a Thing That none but Fools would keep.] But this Reading is not only contrary to all Senfe and Reafon; but to the Drift of this moral Dif courfe. The Duke, in his affum'd Character of a Friar, is endeavouring to inftill into the condemn'd Prisoner a Refignation of Mind to his Sentence; but the Senfe of the Lines, in this Reading, is a direct Perfwafive 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 Lofs 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, And recks not his own Reed. Et alibi paffim. For |