Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead ;
And liberty plucks justice by the nose;

The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum,

And just after, condemning his own neglect, in fuffering the people to take fuch scope, he carries his cenfure against himself fo far, as even to say that he had encouraged them to do fo:

For we bid this be done,

When evil deeds have their permiffive pass,

And not the punishment,

The fame reflection is carried on, in the fifth Scene of the Second Act; where fome one says,

Lord Angelo is severe.

To which Efcalus, his colleague in administration, replies,

It is but needful;

Mercy is not itself, that oft looks fo;

Pardon is ftill the nurfe of fecond woe.

But to recur back again to the first Act, which I quitted in pursuit of the above argument ftarted there; in the fixth Scene, where Claudio defires his friend to employ his fifter to folicit his pardon, he very judiciously urges that peculiar kind of perfuafiveness, which naturally dwells in youth and

innocence:

Acquaint her with the danger of my State;

Implore her, in my voice, that the make friends
To the frict Deputy; bid herself affay him;
I have great hope in That; for in her youth
There is a prone and fpeechlefs dialect,

Such as moves men!

And again, in the laft Scene of this first Act, Lucio fays to Ifabella,

Go to lord Angelo,

And let him learn to know, when maidens fue,

Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,

All their petitions are as truly theirs,

As they themselves would owe them.

Doctor Johnson reads power, or prompt, either of which epithets would Certainly render this paffage more intelligible. I prefer the latter expression.

In the fame Scene the nature and danger of irrefolution is well defcribed.

Lucio.

Our doubts are traitors;

And make us lofe the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The political arguments for juftice, with the humane motives for mercy, are finely contrasted here, between the two Deputies of the State:

Angelo. We must not make a scare-crow of the law,

Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,

And let it keep one fhape, 'till custom makes it

Their perch, and not their terror.

Efcalus. Ay, but yet

Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,

Than fall and bruife to death.

Let but your Honour know,

Whom I believe to be most ftrait in virtue,
That, in the working of your own affections,
Had time cohered with place, or place with wifhing,
Or that the refolute acting of your blood

Could have attained the effect of your own purpose;
Whether you had not, fometime in your life,
Erred in this point, which now you cenfure him,
And pulled the law upon you.

Angelo. "Tis one thing to be tempted, Efcalus,
Another thing to fall. I not deny,

The jury, paffing on the prifoner's life,

May in the fworn twelve have a thief or two,

Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice,

'That juftice feizes on.

What know the laws,

That thieves do pafs on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant,

The jewel that we find, we ftoop and take it,

Because we fee it; but what we do not fee,

We tread upon, and never think of it.

You may not fo extenuate his offence,

For I have had fuch faults; but rather tell me,

When I that cenfure him, do fo offend,

Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.

Efralus. Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all!
Some rife by fin, and fome by virtue fall;

Some run thro' brakes of ice, and anfwer none;
And fome condemned for a fault alone,

SCENE

SCENE VII.

We find the fame fubjects continued here, with additional spirit and beauty.

Ifabella to Angelo.

I have a brother is condemned to die

I do befeech you, let it be his fault,

And not my brother.

Angelo. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it?
Why, every fault's condemned, ere it be done;
Mine were the very cypher of a function,

To find the faults whose fine stands in the record,
And let go by the actor.

Ifabella. O juft, but fevere law! Muft he needs die?
Angelo. Maiden, no remedy.

labella. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him;
And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.
Angelo. I will not do it.

Ifabella. But can you, if you would?

Angelo. Look, what I avill not *, that I cannot de.
Ifabella. But might you do it, and do the world no wrong,
If fo your heart were touched with that remorse,

As mine is to him?

Angelo. He's fentenced; 'tis too late.

Ifabella. Too late? Why, no; I that do fpeak a word,
May call it back again. Well, believe this,
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed fword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half fo good a grace,
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have flipt like him;
But he like you would not have been so stern.
Angelo. Pray you, be gone.

Ijabella. I would to heaven I had your potency,
And you were Ifabel; fhould it then be thus?
No-I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prisoner,

Angelo. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words.

Ifabella. Alas! alas!

Why, all the fouls that were †, were forfeit, once;

*Ought not, I fhould think to be a more proper expreffion, here.

Doctor Warburton has changed were, to are, becaufe, he says, the expreffion, the text, is falfe divinity. I tremble at venturing to differ from fo learned a ige in matters of theology; but are we not taught that the redemption had releafed

D 4

And be that might the 'vantage beft have took,
Found out the remedy. How would you be,
If he, which is the top of judgment, fhould
But judge you as you are? Oh, think on that,
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

Angelo. Be you content, fair maid;

It is the law, not I, condemns your brother.
Were he my kinfman, brother, or my fon,

It should be thus with him. He dies to-morrow.

Jabella. To-morrow! Oh, that's fudden ! Spare him, fpare him; He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens

We kill the fowl of season; fhall we ferve heaven

With lefs refpect than we do minifter

To our grofs felves? Good, good my lord, bethink you:
Who is it that hath died for this offence?

There's many have committed it.

Angelo. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath slept
Those many had not dared to do that evil,

If the first man that did th' edict infringe,
Had answered for his deed. Now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glafs that fhews what future evils,
Or new, or by remiffness new conceived,
And fo in progrefs to be hatched and born,
Are now to have no fucceffive degrees;
But ere they live, to end.

Ifabella. Yet fhew fome pity.

Angelo. I fhew it most of all, when I fhew juftice;
For then I pity thofe I do not know;

Which a difmiffed offence would after gall;

And do him right, that, anfwering one foul wrong,

Lives not to act an other. Be fatisfied;

Your brother dies-to-morrow.

Ifabella. Oh, 'tis excellent

To have a giant's ftrength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.

Could great men thunder,

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet;

For every pelting petty officer

Would ufe his heaven for thunder;

Nothing but thunder-Merciful heaven!

Thou rather with thy fharp and fulph'rous bolt

Splitteft the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,

Dreft in a little brief authority,

Than the foft myrtle-O, but man, proud man,

Moft ignorant of what he's most affured,

leafed the forfeit? We were then brought within the pale, at leaft, of falvation, which the orthodoxy fays we were not before; and a fecond forfeit, I should therefore suppose to be the confequence of our own tranfgreffion, not that of our first parents.

His glaffy effence, like an angry ape,

Plays fuch fantaftic tricks before high heaven,

As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

We cannot weigh our brother with yourfelf;
Great men may jeft with faints; 'tis wit in them;
But in the lefs, foul profanation.

That in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy.

Angelo Why do you put these fayings upon me?
Jabella. Because authority, tho' it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That skins the vice o' th' top. Go to your bofom;
Knock there, and afk your heart what it doth know,
That's like my brother's fault; if it confefs
A natural guiltinefs, fuch as his is,

Let it not found a thought upon your tongue,
Against my brother's life.

Angelo. (Afide.) She fpeaks, and 'tis fuch fenfe,

That my fenfe breeds with it (To lfabel.) Fare you well. Ifabella. Gentle, my lord, turn back.

Angelo. I will bethink me-Come again, to-morrow.

་ ་

Ifabella. Hark, how I'll bribe you-good my lord, turn backAngelo. How? Bribe me!

Ifabella. Ay, with fuch gifts, that heaven shall share with you.
Not with fond fhekels of the tefted gold,

Or ftones whofe rates are either rich, or poor,
As fancy values them; but with true prayers,
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there,
Ere fun-rife; prayers from preferved fouls,
From fafting maids whose minds are delicate
To nothing temporal.

I have transcribed, perhaps, more of this dialogue, than may be thought ftrictly relative to the arguments of it; but I found it impoffible to break off before, and I believe the reader would be forry to have had me interrupt it fooner.

The powerful attractions of virtue and modefty, are finely fhewn, in Angelo's conflict and refections, here. Ifabella, having in the laft Scene, received fome hope of pardon for her brother, takes leave of the Depury, with this expreffion:

Save your honour!

Angelo folus.

From thee, even from thy virtue

Whatd