Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. you well. Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back. Ang. I will bethink me: row. Come again to-mor 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 marr'd 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 sun-rise; prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. Lucio. To-morrow. Well come to me Lucio. Go to: it is well; away. [Aside to ISAB. Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe! Ang. Am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. Isab. Amen: for I [Aside. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship? Isab. Save your honour! At any time 'fore noon. [Exeunt Lucio, ISABELLA, and Provost. Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue ! — 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, ५ 7 Stamped. Preserved from the corruption of the world. 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, fye, fye, fye! 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 Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite; - Ever, till now, When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd 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 bless'd order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits Here in the prison: do me the common right 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 blister'd her report: She is with child; And he that owns it, sentenc'd. Duke. When must he die? Prov. As I do think, to-morrow. I have provided for you; stay a while, [To JULiet. And you shall be conducted. 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 conscience, And try your penitence, if it be sound, 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 sin of heavier kind than his. Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father. repent, As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not hea ven; Showing, we'd not spare heaven, as we love it, 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, [Exit. Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love, That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror! Prov. 'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt. 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 ; Ang. O heavens ! Teach her the way. [Exit Serv. Why does my blood thus muster to my heart; And dispossessing all the other parts Of necessary fitness? So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons; Enter ISABElla. How now fair maid? Isab. I am come to know your pleasure. Ang. That you might know it, would much better please me, Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live. Isab. Even so? Heaven keep your honour! Retiring. Ang. Yet may he live a while; and, it may be As long as you or I: Yet he must die. Isab. Under your sentence? Ang. Yea. Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted, That his soul sicken not. Ang. Ha! fye, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image, Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. The people. |