« AnkstesnisTęsti »
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
Isab. And is this all?
Then, O you blessed ministers above,
To prison with her :-Shall we thus permit
-Who knew of your intent, and coming hither?
Duke. A ghostly father belike:-Who knows that Lodowick ?
Lucio. My lord, I know him; 'tis a medling friar ; [lord, I do not like the man had he been lay, my For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly. Duke. Words against me? This' a good friar, belike !
And to set on this wretched woman here
I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar,
F. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace!
Duke. We did believe no less. Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of? F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and
holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary medler, As he's reported by this gentleman; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. Lucio. My lord, most villanously; believe it. F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear himself: But at this instant he is sick, my lord, Of a strange fever: Upon his mere request, (Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst lord Angelo,) came I bither, To speak as from his mouth, what he doth know
That ever he knew me.
Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord; it cau Lo-be no better.
Duke. For the benefit of silence, 'would thou wert so too.
Lucio. Well, my lord.
Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo.
(To justify this worthy nobleman,
* Conspiracy. Convened.
[ISABELLA is carried off, gvarded; and MARIANA comes forward. Do you not smile at this lord Angelo ?O heaven! the vanity of wretched fools!— Give us some seats.-Come, cousin Angelo In this I'll be impartial; be you judge
Of your own cause.-Is this the witness, friar 1 First, let her show her face; and, after speak. Mari. Pardon, my lord; i will not show my Until my husband bid me.
Duke. What, are you married?
Mari. No, my lord.
Are nothing then :-Neither maid, widow, nor Laucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had
To prattle for himself.
Mari. My lord, I do confess, I ne'er was married;
And, I confess, besides, I am no maid:
I have known my husband; yet my husband knows not,
Ang. Charges she more than me? Mari. Not that I know.
Duke. No you say, your husband.
Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks, he knows, that he ne'er knew my body,
But knows he thinks, that he knows Isabel's. Ang. This is a strange abuse: †-Let's see thy face.
Mari. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [Unveiling. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, [on: Which once thou swor'st, was worth the looking This is the hand, which, with a vow'd contact, Was fast belock'd in thine: this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house, In her imagin'd person.
Dake. Know you this woman?
Ang. My lord, I must confess, I know this, [marriage And, five years since, there was some speech of Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly, for that her promised proportions. Came short of composition ; ; but, in chief, For that her reputation was disvalued In levity: since which time of five years, I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from Upon my faith and honour. (her,
Mari. Noble prince,
As there comes light from heaven, and words from breath,
+ Deception. Her fortune fell short.
Your provost knows the place where he abides,
Duke. Ay, with my heart;
And punish them unto your height of pleasure.
Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word. Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again; [To an Attendant.] I would speak with her: Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see how I'll handle her.
Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report.
Lucio. Marry, Sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess; perchance, publicly she'll be ashamed.
F. Peter. Would he were here, my lord; for But fa he, indeed,
Hath set the women on to this complaint:
Duke. Go, do it instantly.
Escal. My lord, we'll do it thoroughly.-[Exit DUKE.] Signior Lucio, did not you say, you knew that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person ?
Lucio. Lucullus non facit monachum: honest in nothing, but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the duke.
Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here till flesh-u he come, and enforce them against him: we shali | reporte find this friar a notable fellow.
Duke. 'Tis false.
Escal. How! know you where you are?
Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne :-
To the end.
after hi Esca
Re-enter Officers, with ISABELLA, the DUKE, upon b in the Friar's habit, and Provost.
must be visage,
We'll borrow place of him :-Sir, by your leave: | Although by confiscation they are our's,
Isab. I do, my lord.
Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested; Which though thou would'st deny, denies thee
We do condemn thee to the very block
Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,
: Following. Angelo's own tongue.
I crave no other, nor no better man. Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive. Mari. Gentle, my liege,[Kneeling. Duke. You do but lose your labour; Away with him to death.-Now, Sir, to you. [To Lucio. Mari. O my good lord !-Sweet Isabel, take my part:
Lend me your knees, and all my life to come
Duke. Against all sense you do impórtune
her: Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in borror.
Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me;
Till he did look on me; since it is so,
Let him not die: My brother had but justice,
His act did not o'ertake his bad intent;
Duke. What's he?
Prov. His name is Barnardine.
Duke. I would thou had'st done so by Claudio. Go, fetch him hither; let me look upon bim. [Exit PROVOST.
Escal. I am sorry, one so learned, and so wise As you, lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood, And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.
Ang. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure :
Re-enter PROVOST, BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO,
Duke. There was a friar told me of this
For better times to come :
-Friar, advise him; I leave him to your hand.-What muffled fellow's that?
Prov. This is another prisoner, that I sav'd, That should have died when Claudio lost bis head; As like almost to Claudio, as himself. [Unmufles CLAUDIO. Duke. If he be like your brother, for his sake [To ISABELLA. Is he pardon'd: And, for your lovely sake, Give me your hand, and say you will be mine, He is my brother too: But fitter time for that. By this, lord Angelo perceives be's safe; Methinks, I see a quick'ning in his eye :Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well: Look that you love your wife; her worth, worth I find an apt remission in myself: And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon ;You, sirrab, [To LUCIO.] that knew me for a fool, a coward,
One all of luxury, an ass, a madman ;
Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick: If you will hang me for it, you may, but I had rather it would please you, I might be whipp'd.
Duke. Whipp'd first, Sir, and hang'd after.Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city; If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow, (As I have heard him swear himself, there's one Whom he begot with child,) let her appear,
+ Incontinence. Thoughtless practice.
There's more behind, that is more gratulate.+
So, bring us to our palace ; where we'll show
LITERARY AND HISTORICAL Notice.
TO the story-book, or Pleasant History (as it is called) of Dorastus and Pawnia, written by Robert Greene, M.A we are indebted for Shakspeare's Winter's Tale. The parts of Antigonus, Paulina, and Autolycus, are of the poet's own invention; and many circumstances of the novel are omitted in the drama. Mr. Walpole ranks it among the historic plays of Shakspeare, and says it was certainly presented, (in compliment to Queen Elizabeth) as an indirect apology for her mother, Anne Boleyn; the unreasonable jealousy and violent conduct of Leontes, forming a true portrait of Henry VIII. who generally made the law the engine of his passions. Several passages, it must be confessed, strongly favour this plausible conjecture, and seem to apply to the real history much closer than to the fable. But Malone and Sir William Blackstone refer to other passages, which would strengthen a contrary opinion; to one, in particular, which could scarcely be in. tended for the ear of her, who had put the Queen of Scots to death. It was, however, probably written immediately upon Elizabeth's death; nor could it fail of being very agreeable to James her successor. An inattention to dramatic rules, so common with Shakspeare, is perhaps more glaringly apparent in this than in any other of his productions; and Pope and Dryden have made it the subject of some ill-advised censure. But had Shakspeare been acquainted with these rules, (which he certainly was not,) the exquisite talent displayed in his writings, is a sufficient apology for the freedom with which he has set them aside. His inexhaustible genius was not to be restrained, nor the restless disposition of an English audience to be gratified, by a close and reverent adherence to the classical uuities of the stage. Hence such a breach in time and probability, as producing, at a rustic festival, a lovely woman, fit to be married, who but a few minutes before, had been deposited on the sea-shore, an infant in swaddling clothes. Hence the celerity with which seas are crossed, countries traversed, battles fought, and marriages accomplished. The Winter's Tale, however, with all its contradictions---with a mean fable, extravagantly conducted---is scarcely inferior to any of Shakspeare's plays. It contains much excellent sentiment, several strongly-marked characters, and a tissue of events fully justifying the title ;---for a jumble of improbable incidents, some merry and some sad, is the legitimate feature of a Christmas story. Still it must be observed, that though the origin and progress of jealousy are always unaccountable, the sudden transition of Leontes from a state of perfect friendship and affection to that of hatred and vindictive rage, is not accompanied by any apparent circumstances to render it probable or natural. Paulina's character is novel, and very pleasingly imagined; and Hermione's defence ts not less beautiful and pathetic than its prototype in Henry VIII. Autolycus, the king of beggars and of pedlars, is one of the most arch and amusing scoundrels ever designed by our poet. His songs are all exceedingly spirited.