Juliet. Muft die to-morrow! o injurious law,
That refpites me a life, whofe very comfort
Is still a dying horror !

Prov. 'Tis pity of him.

Exeunt.

Ang⋅ W

SCENE X.

The Palace.

Enter Angelo.

HEN I would pray and think, I think and pray
To fev'ral fubjects: heav'n hath my empty words,

Whilft my intention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Ifabel: heav'n's in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew its name,
And in my heart the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception: the state whereon I study'd
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. O place! o form!
How often doft thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wifer fouls
To thy false seeming! blood, thou art but blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn;

Is't not the devil's creft? How now? who's there?

Enter Servant.

Serv. One Isabel, a fifter, afks access to you.

Ang. Teach her the way. O heav'ns! why does my blood

Thus muster to my heart, making both that

Unable for itself, and difpoffeffing

My other parts of neceffary fitnefs?

So

So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air

By which he should revive: and even fo
The gen'ral fubjects to a well-wifh'd king
Quit their own part, and in obfequious fondness
Crowd to his prefence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence. — How now, fair maid?

SCENE XI.

Enter Ifabella.

Ifab. I am come to know your pleasure.

Ang. That you might know it, would much better please me, Than to declare what 'tis. He cannot live.

Ifab. Ev'n fo? — Heav'n keep you!

Ang. Yet may he live a while;

And, it may be, as long as you, or I:
Yet he muft die.

Ifab. Under your sentence?

Ang. Yea.

Ifab. When, I befeech you? that in his reprieve, Longer or fhorter, he may be fo fitted

That his foul ficken not.

Ang. Ha! fie, thefe filthy vices! 'twere as good To pardon him that hath from nature stol'n

A man already made, as to remit

Their faucy lewdnefs that do coin heav'n's image
In ftamps that are forbid: 'tis all as just,

Falfely to take away a life true made,

s to put mettle in reftrained means,

To make a falfe one.

Ifab. 'Tis fet down fo in heav'n, but not in earth.

Ang. And fay you fo? then I fhall pose you quickly.
Which had you rather, that the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
Give up your body to fuch fweet uncleanness
VOL. I.

[going.

As

As fhe that he hath stain'd?

Ifab. Sir, believe this,

I had rather give my body than my foul.

Ang. I talk not of your foul; our compell'd fins Stand more for number than accoinpt.

Ifab. How fay you?

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing I fay. Answer to this:

I, now the voice of the recorded law,
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life :
Might there not be a charity in fin,
To fave this brother's life?

Ifab. Please you to do't,
I'll take it as a peril to my foul,
It is no fin at all, but charity.

Ang. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your foul,
Were't equal poize of fin and charity?

Ifab. That I do beg his life, if it be fin,
Heav'n, let me bear it! you granting my suit,
If that be fin, I'll make't my morning-pray'r
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answer.

Ang. Nay, but hear me:

Your fenfe purfues not mine: either you're ignorant, Or feem fo craftily; and that's not good.

Ifab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,

But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus wifdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself: as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could display'd. But mark me well: To be received plain I'll speak more gross; Your brother is to die.

Ifab. So.

Ang. And his offence is fo, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain.

Ifab. True.

Ang. Admit no other way to fave his life,
(As I fubfcribe not that, nor any other)
But (in the lofs of question) that you his fister,
Finding yourself defir'd of fuch a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-holding law; and that there were
No earthly mean to fave him, but that either
You must lay down the treasures of your body
To this fuppofed, or else let him suffer;
What would you do?

Ifab. As much for my poor brother as myself;
That is, were I under the terms of death,
Th' impreffion of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death as to a bed

That longing I've been fick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to fhame.

Ang. Then muft your brother die.
Ifab. And 'twere the cheaper way;
Better it were a brother dy'd at once,
Than that a fifter, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have flander'd fo?

Ifab. An ignominious ransom and free pardon

Are of two houses; lawful mercy, fure,

Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

Ang. You feem'd of late to make the law a tyrant,

And rather prov'd the fliding of brother

A merriment than a vice.

Ifab. O, pardon me,

your

My lord; it very oft falls out, to have

What we would have, we speak not what we mean :
I something do excuse the thing I hate,

For his advantage that I dearly love.

Ang.

Ang. We are all frail.

Ifab. Elfe let my brother die, If not a feodary but only he

Owe and fucceed by weakness.

Ang. Nay, women are frail too.

Ifab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
Women! help, heav'n! men their creation mar

In profiting by them: nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are soft as our complexions are,

And credulous to false prints.

Ang. I think it well;

And from this teftimony of your own sex,

(Since, I suppose, we're made to be no ftronger Than faults may fhake our frames) let me be bold;

I do arreft your words: be that you are,

That is, a woman; if you're more, you're none. you be one, as you are well exprefs'd

If

By all external warrants, fhow it now,

By putting on the destin❜d livery.

İfab. I have no tongue but one; gentle my lord,
Let me entreat you speak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

Ifab. My brother did love Juliet ;

And you tell me that he fhall die for it.

Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Ifab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in't, Which feems a little fouler than it is,

To pluck on others.

Ang. Believe me on mine honour,

My words express my purpose.

Ifab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And moft pernicious purpofe! feeming! feeming!
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a prefent pardon for my brother,

Or with an out-ftretch'd throat I'll tell the world

Aloud