All fects, all ages smack o' th' vice; and he
To die for it!

Enter Angelo.

Ang. Now, what's the matter, Provoft?

Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow?
Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order ?

Why afk again?

Prov. Lest I might be too rash.

Under your good correction, I have seen
When after execution judgment hath

Repented o'er his doom.

Ang. Let that be mine;

Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you shall well be spar'd.

Prov. I crave your pardon.

What shall be done, Sir, with the groaning Juliet?
She's very near her hour.

Ang. Dispose of her

To fome more fitting place, and that with speed.
Serv. Here is the fifter of the man condemn'd,

Defires access to you.

Ang. Hath he a sister?

Prov. Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid,

And to be shortly of a sister-hood,

If not already.

Ang. Let her be admitted.

See you the fornicatress be remov'd;
Let her have needful, but not lavish means;

There shall be order for it.

[Exit Servant.

SCENE VII. Enter Lucio and Isabella.

Prov. 'Save your honour!

Ang. Stay yet a while. Y'are welcome; what's your will?

Ifab. I am a woful fuitor to your honour,

Pleafe but your honour hear me.

Ang. What's your fuit?

Ifab. There is a vice that most I do abhor,

juftice,

For which I would not plead, but that I muft;
For which I must plead, albeit I am

As war 'twixt will, and will not.

Ang.

1

:

Ang. Well; the matter?
Ifab. I have a brother is condemn'd to-day;

I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.

Prov. Heav'n give thee moving graces!

Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it?

Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done;
Mine were the very cipher of a function
To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.

Ifab. O just, but severe law !

I had a brother then; -heav'n keep your honour!
Lucio. Give't not o'er so: to his again, intreat him,

Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
You are too cold; if you should need a pin,
You could not with a more tame tongue defire it.
To him, I say.

Isab. Must he needs die ?

Ang. Maiden, no remedy.

Ifab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
And neither heav'n nor man grieve at the mercy.
Ang. I will not do't.

Ifab. But can you if you would ?

Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.
Ifab. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong,
If fo your heart were touch'd with that remorse
As mine is to him?

Ang. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late.
Lucio. You are too cold.

Ifab. Too late? why, no; I that do speak a word,

May call it back again: and believe this,
No ceremony that to great ones belongs,
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 flipt like him;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.

Ang. Pray you, be gone.

Ifab. I would to heav'n I had your potency,

VOL. II.

C

And

And you were Isabel; should it then be thus!
No; 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.

fab. Alas! alas!

Why, all the fouls 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? oh, 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 fon,
It should be thus with him; he dies to-morrow.

Ifab. To-morrow? oh! that's sudden. Spare him, spare He's not prepar'd for death: even for our kitchins (him. We kill the fowl of season; serve we heav'n

With less respect than we do minifter

To our gross selves? good, good my lord, bethink you :
Who is it that hath dy'd for this offence?
There's many have committed it.

Lucio. Ay, well faid.

Ang. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath slept: Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, If the first man that did th' edict infringe Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake, Takes note of what is done, and like a prophet, Looks in a glass which shews that future evils Or new, or by remissness new conceiv'd, And fo in progress to be hatch'd and born, Are now to have no successive degrees, But, ere they live, to end.

Ifab. Yet shew some pity.

Ang. I shew it most of all when I shew justice;

For then I pity those I do not know,
Which a dismus'd offence would after gall;

And

And do him right, that answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Then be fatisfy'd;

Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Ifab. So you must be the first that gives this sentence,

And he that fuffers: oh, 'tis excellent

To have a giant's strength; but tyrannous

To use it like a giant.

Lucio. That's well faid.

Isab. Could great men thunder

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet;
For every pelting, petty officer
Incessantly would use his heav'n for thunder;
Nothing but thunder: merciful, sweet heav'n!
Thou rather with thy sharp and fulph'rous bolt
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,

Than the soft myrtle: O, but man! proud man,

Drest in a little brief authority,

(Moft ignorant of what he's most assur'd,

His glassy essence) like an angry ape,

Plays such fantastick tricks before high heav'n,
As makes the angels weep; who with our spleens

Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lucio. Oh, to him, to him, wench; he will relent;

He's coming: I perceive't.

Prov. Pray heav'n the win him.

Ifab. We cannot weigh our brother with your self:
Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them,
But in the less foul prophanation.

Lucio. Thou'rt right, girl; more o' that.
Ifab. That in the captain's but a cholerick word,

Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy.

Lucio. Art thou advis'd o' that? more on't, yet more.
Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me ?
Ifab. Because authority, tho' it err like others,

Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
That skins the vice o' th' 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 found a thought upon your tongue

C2

:

Againft Against my brother's life.

Ang, She speaks, and'tis

?

Such sense, that my sense bleeds with't. Fare you well.

Ifab. Gentle my lord, turn back.

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

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

Ifab. Ay, with such gifts that heav'n shall share with you.
Lucio. You had marr'd all elfe.

Ifab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,

Or stones, whose rate is either rich or poor
As fancy values them; but with true prayers,
That shall be up at heav'n, and enter there,
Ere fun rise: prayers from preserved fouls,
From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Ang. Well; come to-morrow.
Ifab. Heav'n keep your honour safe!

Ang. Amen! I say:

For I am that way going to temptation,

Where prayers cross.

Ifab. At what hour to-morrow

Shall I attend you ?

Ang. At any time 'fore noon.

Ifab. 'Save your honour!

[Afide.

[Exeunt Lucio and Isabella.

SCENE VIII.

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 fins most ?

Not she; nor doth she tempt; but it is I

That lying by the violet in the fun,
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 defire to raze the sanctuary,

And pitch our evils there: oh, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou ? or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou defire her foully, for those things
That make her good? Oh, let her brother live:

Thieves