Shall we defire to raze the fanctuary,
And pitch our evils there? Oh, fie, fie, fie!
What doft thou? or what art thou, Angelo?
Doft thou defire her foully, for those things
That make her good? Oh, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority,
When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her,
That I defire to hear her speak again,

And feast upon her eyes? what is't I dream on?
Oh, cunning enemy, that, to catch a faint,
With faints doft bait thy hook! Moft dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on

To fin in loving virtue. Never could the ftrumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once ftir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite.-Ever, till now,

When men were fond, I fmil'd, and wonder'd how.

SCENE III.

A PRISON.

Enter Duke babited like a Friar, and Provost.

[Exit.

Duke. Hail to you, provost! fo, I think, you are. Prov. I am the provoft: what's your will, good friar?

Duke. Bound by my charity, and my blefs'd order, I come to vifit the afflicted fpirits

Here in the prison: do me the common right
To let me fee them; and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minifter
To them accordingly.

- Ifmil'd, and wonder'd how.] As a day must now intervene between this conference of Ifabella with Angelo, and the next, the act might more properly end here; and here, in my opinion, it was ended by the poet, JOHNSON.

Prov. I would do more than that, if more were

needful.

Enter Juliet.

Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flaws of her own youth,'
Hath blifter'd her report: She is with child;
And he, that got it, fentenc'd: a young man
More fit to do another fuch offence,
Than die for this.

Duke. When must he die?

Prov. As I do think, to-morrow.
I have provided for you; ftay a while,
And you shall be conducted.

[To Juliet.

Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the fin you carry? Juliet. I do; and bear the shame most patiently. Duke. I'll teach you, how you fhall arraign your confcience,

And try your penitence, if it be found,

Or hollowly put on.

Juliet. I'll gladly learn.

Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you ? Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.

Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act Was mutually committed?

Juliet. Mutually.

Duke. Then was your fin of heavier kind than his. Juliet. I do confefs it, and repent it, father.

Who doth not fee that the integrity of the metaphor requires we should read,

-flames of her own youth? WARBURTON.

Who does not fee that, upon fuch principles, there is no end of correction? JOHNSON.

VOL. II.

E

Duke.

Duke. 'Tis meet fo daughter: But left you do 2 repent,

As that the fin hath brought you to this shame,Which forrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven;

Shewing, we'd not feek heaven, as we love it,
But as we stand in fear,

Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil,

And take the shame with joy.

Duke. There rest.'

Your partner, as I hear, muft die to-morrow,
And I am going with inftruction to him.
Grace go with you! benedicite.

[Exit.

Juliet. Muft die to-morrow! Oh, injurious love,+

That refpites me a life, whofe

Is ftill a dying horror!

very comfort

Prov. 'Tis pity of him.

SCENE IV.

ANGELO's HOUSE:

Enter Angelo.

[Exeunt.

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray

To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words,

2.

But left you do repent,] Thus the old copy. The modern editors, led by Mr. Pope, read,

But repent you noi.

But left you do repent is only a kind of negative comparativeNe te pæniteat,and means, repent not on this account.

4

STEEVENS.

3 There reft.] Keep yourfelf in this temper. JOHNSON. Oh, injurious love,] Her execution was refpited on account of her pregnancy, the effects of her love: therefore fhe calls it injurious; not that it brought her to fhame, but that it hindered her freeing herfelf from it. Is not this all very natural? yet the Oxford editor changes it to injurious law. JOHNSON.

Whilft my intention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Ifabel. Heaven is in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew its name;

And in my heart, the strong and fwelling evil
Of my conception. The ftate, whereon I ftudied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,

Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume

Which the air beats for vain. Oh place! oh form!,
How often doft thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wifer fouls 3
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou art but blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn;
'Tis not the devil's creft.

Enter

Whilft my intention,] Nothing can be either plainer or exacter than this expreffion. But the old blundering folio having it, invention, this was enough for Mr. Theobald to prefer autho rity to sense. WARBURTON.

Grown fear'd and tedious ;

-] We fhould read fear'd: i. e. old. So Shakespeare uses in the fear, to fignify old age.

WARBURTON.

I think fear'd may ftand. What we go to with reluctance may be faid to be fear'd. JOHNSON.

7

-cafe,-] For outfide; garb; external shew. JOHNSON.
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wifer fouls
To thy falfe ferming ?- -]

Here Shakespeare judiciously distinguishes the different operations of high place upon different minds. Fools are frighted, and wife men are allured. Those who cannot judge but by the eye, are easily awed by splendour; thofe who confider men as well as conditions, are easily perfuaded to love the appearance of virtue dignified with power. JOHNSON.

? Let's write good angel on the devil's born ;

'Tis not the devil's creft.]

i. e. Let the most wicked thing have but a virtuous pretence, and it fhall pass for innocent. This was his conclufion from his preceding words,

-ob form!

How often doft thou with thy cafe, thỳ kabit,

E 2

Wrench

Enter Servant.

How now, who's there?

Serv. One Ifabel, a fifter, defires access to you.
Ang. Teach her the way.

[Solus.] Oh heavens !

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making both it unable for itself,

And difpoffeffing all my other parts

Of neceffary fitness?

So play the foolish throngs with one that fwoons;
Come all to help him, and fo top the air

By which he should revive; and even fo

Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls

To thy falje feeming ?·

But the Oxford editor makes him conclude just counter to his own premises; by altering it to,

Is't not the devil's creft?

So that, according to this alteration, the reafoning ftands thus.Falfe feeming wrenches awe from fools, and deceives the wife. Therefore, Let us but write good ang I on the devil's horn, (i. e. give him the appearance of an angel;) and what then? Ist not the devil's creft? (i. e. he fhall be efteemed a devil.)

WARBURTON.

I am ftill inclined to the opinion of the Oxford editor. Angelo, reflecting on the difference between his feeming character, and his real difpofition, obferves, that he could change bis gravity for a plume. He then digreffes into an apoftrophe, O dignity, how doft thou impofe upon the world! then returning to himself, Blood, fays he, thou art but blood, however concealed with appearances and decorations. Title and character de not alter nature, which is still corrupt, however dignified.

Let's write good angel on the devil's born ;

Is't not?-or rather-'Tis yet the devil's creft.

It may however be understood, according to Dr. Warburton's explanation. O place, how doft thou impofe upon the world by false appearances! fo much, that if we write good angel on the devil's horn, 'tis not taken any longer to be the devil's creft. In this fenfe,

Blood, thou art but blood!

is an interjected exclamation. JOHNSON.

The