be forry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick tack. I'll to her. Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio. Claud. Come, officer, away. SCENE VII. A Monaftery. Enter Duke, and Friar Thomas. [Exeunt. Duke. No; holy father, throw away that thought; Believe not, that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a compleat bofom: why I defire thee To give me fecret harbour, hath a purpose More grave, and wrinkled, than the aims and ends Of burning youth. Fri. May your Grace speak of it? Duke. My holy Sir, none better knows than you, How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd; And held in idle price to haunt assemblies, (A man of ftrict ure and firm abftinence) Duke We have ftrict ftatutes and moft biting laws, (The needful bits and curbs for headstrong fteeds), Which for thefe nineteen years we have let fleep; Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave, That goes not out to prey: now, as fond fathers For terror, not to ufe; in time the rod Becomes more mock'd, than fear'd: fo our decrees, And Liberty plucks Justice by the nofe; Fri. It refted in your Grace T'unloofe T'unlofe this ty'd-up juftice, when you pleas'd: Duke. I do fear, too dreadful. Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my fa- [ther, Who may in th' ambush of my name ftrike home, And yet my nature never in the fight To do in flander: and, to behold his fway, Vifit both prince and people; therefore, pr'ythee, Like a true friar. More reafons for this action SCENE VIII. A nunnery. Enter Ifabella and Francifca. Ifab. And have your nuns no further privileges ? Ifab. Yes, truly; I fpeak not as defiring more; Nun. It is a man's voice: gentle Isabella, Turn you the key, and know his bufinefs of him; When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men, Then, if you fpeak, you must not fhew your face; VOL.I. He Hs calls again; I pray you answer him. [Exit Fran. Ifab. Peace and profperity! who is't that calls? Enter Lucio. Lucio. Hail, virgin, (if you be), as thofe cheek-rofes A novice of this place, and the fair fifter Ifab. Why her unhappy brother? let me afk I am that Ifabella, and his fifter.. Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. Ifab. Wo me! for what? [you; Lucio. For that, which, if myfelf might be his judge, He fhould receive his punishment in thanks; He hath got his friend with child. Ifab. Sir, make me not your story. Lucio. 'Tis true:-I would not (tho' 'tis my fami liar fin With maids to feem the lapwing, and to jeft, As with a faint. Ifab. You do blafpheme the good, in mocking me. Ifab. Some one with child by him? Lucio. Is the your cousin? -my coufin Ifab. Adoptedly, as fchool-maids change their names, By vain, tho' apt, affection. The lapwing flies fo low, and fo near the paffenger, that he thinks he has it, and then is fuddenly gone again. Hence it is ufed as a pio verbial expreffion to fignify a lover's falfehood. Lucio. She it is. Ifab. O, let him marry her! Lucio. This is the point. The Duke is very strangely gone from hence; Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood Which have long time run by the hideous law, Ifab. Doth he fo Seek for his life? Lucio. H'as cenfur'd him already; Ifab. Alas! what poor Ability's in me, to do him good? And make us lofe the good we oft might win, As they themselves would owe them. Ifab. I'll fee what I can do. Z 2 Lucis. Lucio. But, fpeedily. Ifab. I will about it ftrait; No longer flaying, but to give the mother [Exeunt. Enter Angelo, Efcalus, a Juftice, and attendants. Ang. W E must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one fhape, till custom make it Their pearch, and not their terror. Efcal. Ay, but yet Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, Than fall, and bruife to death. Alas! this gentleman, Whom I would fave, had a most noble father: Let but your Honour know, Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, Could have attain'd th' effect of your own purpose ; Err'd in this point, which now you cenfure him, Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, 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 juftice, That juftice feizes on. What know the laws, That thieves do pafs on thieves? 'tis very pregnant,' We tread upon, and never think of it. You |