Isab. Must he needs die?

Ang.

Maiden, no remedy.
Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
And neither Heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.
Ang. I will not do't.

Isab.

But can you, if you would? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touched with that remorse As mine is to him?

Ang.

He's sentenced; 'tis too late.

Lucio. You are too cold.

[To ISABELLA. Isab. Too late? why, no: I, that do speak 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 sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have slipped like him;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.
Ang. Pray you, begone.

Isab. I would to Heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabel! Should it then be thus?
No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prisoner.

Lucio. Ay, touch him: there's the vein.
Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words.

Isab.
Alas! alas!
Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once;
And He that might the vantage best have took,
Found out the remedy: how would you be,
If He, which is the top of judgment, should
But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

Ang.
Be you content, fair maid;
It is the law, not I, condemns your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

[Aside.

It should be thus with him; he must die to-morrow.
Isab. To-morrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare

him!

He's not prepared for death! Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve Heaven
With less respect than we do minister

Y

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

There's many have committed it.

Lucio.

Ay, well said.
Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:
Those many had not dared to do that evil,

If the first man that did the edict infringe,
Had answered for his deed: now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils,
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceived,
And so in progress to be hatched and born,)
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But, where they live, to end.

Isab.

Yet show some pity.

Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know,

Which a dismissed offence would after gall;

And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be satisfied:

Your brother dies to-morrow: be content.

Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this sentence; And he, that suffers. O, it is excellent

To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous

To use it like a giant.

Lucio.

That's well said.

Isab. Could great men thunder

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet;
For every pelting, petty officer,

Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder.
Merciful Heaven!

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,

Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the soft myrtle:-But man, proud man!
Dressed in a little brief authority,

Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape,

Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven,
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent;
He's coming; I perceive't.

Prov.

Pray Heaven, she win him!

Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them! But, in the less, foul profanation.

Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl; more o' that. Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

Lucio. Art advised o' that? More on't.

Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me?
Isab. Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That skins the vice o' the top: go to your bosom;
Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
A natural guiltiness, such as is his,

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

Ang.

Such

sense,

that

my

She speaks, and 'tis sense breeds with it.

-Fare

Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back.

Ang. I will bethink me: Come again to-morrow.

Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back. Ang. How! Bribe me?

Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share with

you.

Lucio. You had marred all else.

Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,
Or stones, whose rates are either rich, or poor,
As fancy values them; but with true prayers,
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there,
Ere sunrise; prayers from preserved souls,
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Ang.

To-morrow.

Well; come to me

Lucio. Go to; it is well; away. [Aside to ISABEL. Isab. Heaven keep your honor safe! Ang. For I am that way going to temptation,

Amen.

[Aside.

At what hour to-morrow

At any time 'fore noon.

Ang.

From thee; even from thy virtue.

Isab. Save your honor!

[Exeunt LUCIO, ISABELLA, and Provost.

What's this? What's this? Is this her fault, or mine?
The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha!
Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I,

That, lying by the violet, in the sun,

Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be,
That modesty may more betray our sense

Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,

And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou? Or, what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully, for those things
That make her good? O, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority,

When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her,
That I desire to hear her speak again,

And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,

With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on

To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet,
With all her double vigor, art and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite; -ever, till now,

When men were fond, I smiled, and wondered how! [Exit.

SCENE III. A Room in a Prison.

Enter Duke, habited like a friar, and Provost.
Duke. Hail to you, provost! so I think you are.
Prov. I am the provost: what's your will, good friar?
Duke. Bound by my charity, and my blest order,
I come to visit the afflicted spirits

Here in the prison: do me the common right
To let me see them; and to make me know

The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.

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 flames of her own youth,
Hath blistered her report: she is with child;
And he that got it, sentenced;—a young man
More fit to do another such offence,

Than die for this.

Duke.

When must he die?

Prov. As I do think, to-morrow.―

I have provided for you; stay a while,
And you shall be conducted.

[To JULIET.

Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?
Juliet. I do; and bear the shame most patiently.
Duke. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your con-
science,

And try your penitence, if it be sound,

Or hollowly put on.
Juliet.

I'll gladly learn.

Duke. Love you the man that wronged you?

Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wronged him. Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act Was mutually committed?

Juliet.

Mutually.

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

Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent, As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,— Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven; Showing, we'd not spare 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, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.-

Grace go with you! Benedicite!

Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love, That respites me a life, whose very comfort

Is still a dying horror!

Prov.

[Exit.

SCENE IV. A Room in Angelo's House.

Enter ANGelo.

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects: Heaven hath my empty words; Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name; And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied, Is like a good thing, being often read, Grown feared 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. O place! O form!