ACT II Sc. II Than the soft myrtle! O, but man, proud man, Most ignorant of what he's most assur❜d His glassy essence—like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven As make the Angels weep; who, with our spleens, 120 LUCIO. [to ISAB.] O, to him, to him, wench! he will relent; He's coming; I perceive ❜t. PROV. [aside.] Pray Heaven she win him! ISAB. We cannot weigh our brother with yourself: Great men may jest with Saints: 'tis wit in them, LUCIO. [to ISAB.] Thou'rt in the right, girl: more o' that! LUCIO. [aside.] Art advis'd o' that? More on 't! That skins2 the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom ; A natural guiltiness, such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue ANG. [aside.] She speaks, and 'tis 131 140 Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.-Fare you well. ISAB. Gentle my Lord, turn back. [to ISABELLA. 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. [aside.] You had marr'd all else. ISAB. Not with fond* sickles" of the tested gold, Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor 1 to death. 2 as with a wound. 3 amorous impulse. • foolish. 150 5 shekels. Ere sunrise; prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. ANG. Well: come to me to-morrow. LUCIO. [aside to ISABELLA.] Go to; it is well: away. ACT II What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine? 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 sense2 Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, 171 And pitch our evils3 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! When judges steal themselves. What! do I love her, And feast upon her eyes? What is 't I dream on? O cunning enemy that, to catch a saint, With saints doth bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet, 180 When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how. [exit. ACT II SCENE III. A Room in a Prison. Enter DUKE and Provost. DUKE. Hail to you, Provost! so I think you are? 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 PROV. I would do more than that, if more were needful. Enter JULIET. Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine, PROV. As I do think, to-morrow. [to JULIET.] I have provided for you: stay awhile, And you shall be conducted. DUKE. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? JUL. I do; and bear the shame most patiently. ΤΟ 20 DUKE. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your con DUKE. Love you the man that wrong'd you? DUKE. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act DUKE. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. JUL. I do confess it, and repent it, Father. DUKE. 'Tis meet so, Daughter. But lest you do repent, 30 1 A sudden gust. (Cf. The Tempest, 1. ii. 324-5.) Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not Heaven; ANG. When I would pray and think, I think and pray 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, Grown sear❜d and tedious; yea, my gravity, Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, Could I with boot2 change for an idle plume, Enter Servant. One Isabel, a Sister, 2 profit. How now! who's there? SERV. Desires access to you. 1 stay of that mind. ACT II 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 so Enter ISABELLA. How now, fair maid? ISAB. 20 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! 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. [retiring. ANG. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good A man already made, as to remit Their saucy sweetness, that do coin Heaven's image As to put mettle in restrained means ISAB. 'Tis set down so in Heaven, but not in Earth. I multitude. 40 50 |