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And neither heaven, or 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

If fo

wrong,

your heart were touch'd with that remorse As mine is to him?

Ang. He's fentenc'd; 'tis too late.

Lucio. You are too cold.

[To ISABELLA.

Ifab. Too late? why no; I, that do fpeak 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 fword,
The marshall's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half fo 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 fo ftern.

Ang. Pray you, be gone.

Ifab. I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Ifabel! fhould it then be thus? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner.

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

Ifab. Alas! Alas!

Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once;
And He that might the vantage belt have took,
Found out the remedy: How would you be,
If he, which is the troop of judgment, fhould
But judge you, as you are? Oh, think on that,

C 3

And

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 kinfman, brother, or my fon

It fhould be thus with him;-he muft die to-morrow. Ifab. To morrow! Oh, that's sudden! Spare him, fpare him;

He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl, of feafon; fhall we ferve heaven With lefs refpe&t than we do minister

To our grofs felves? Good, good my lord, bethink Who is it that hath died for this offence? [you: There's many have committed it.

Lucio. Ay, well faid.

Ang. The law hath not been dead though it hath flept:

Thofe many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If the first man, that did the edict infringe,
Had anfwered for his deed: now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glafs that fhews what future evils,
(Either now, or by remiffness new-conceiv'd,
And fo in progress to be hatch'd and born)
Are now to have no fucceflive degrees,
But, ere they live to end.

Ifab. Yet thew fome pity.

Ang. I fhew it most of all, when I fhew justice
For then I pity thofe I do not know,
Which a difmifs'd offence would after gall;
And do him right, that, anfwering one foul wrong
Lives not to act another. Be fatisfy'd;

Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

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

fentence;

And he, that fuffers: Oh, it is excellent

To have a giant's firength; but it is tyrannous, To ufe it like a giant.

Lucio. That's well faid.'

fab. Could great men thunder

As Jove himfelf docs, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer,

Would ufe his heaven for thunder; nothing but Merciful heaven!

[thunder

Thou rather with thy fharp and fulphurous bolt
Split' the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,"
Than the foft myrtle: O, but man, proud man,
(Dreft in a little brief authority;

Moft ignorant of what he's most affur'd,

His glaffy effence) like an angry ape,

Plays fuch fantaftick tricks before high heaven,
As make the angels weep; who, with our fpleens,
Would all themfelves live mortal.

Lucio. Oh, to him, to him, wench: he will reHe's coming; I perceive't.

Prov. Pray heaven the win him!

[lent,

Ifab., We cannot win our brother with ourfelf. Great men may jeft with faints: 'tis wit in them; But in the lefs, foul profanation.

Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl; more o' that. Ifah. That in the captain's but a cholerick word, Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy.

Lucio. Art advis'd o' that? more on't. Ang. Why do you put thefe fayings upon me? Ifab. Becaufe authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That skins the vice o'the top: Go to your bofom;

Krock

Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth know
That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
A natural guiltiness fuch as is his,

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

Ang. [Afide.] She speaks, and 'tis

Such fenfe, that my fenfe breeds with it. [To ISAB.] 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, Ang. How! bribe me? [turn back, Ifab. Ay, with fuch gifts, that heaven fhall fhare with you.

Lucio. You had marr'd, all elfe.

Ifab. Not with fond fheckles of the tefted gold, Or ftones, whofe rates are either rich or poor, As fancy values them: but with true prayers, That fhall be up at heaven, and enter there, Ere fun-rife; prayers from preferv'd souls, From fafting maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal.

Ang. Well, come to me to-morrow.

Lucio. Go to; 'tis well;' [Afide to ISAB.] away
Ifab. Heaven keep your honour safe!

Ang. Amen!

For I am that way going to temptation, [Afide Where prayers cross.

Ifab. At what hour to-morrow.

Shall I attend your lordship?

Ang. At any time 'fore noon.

Ijab. Save your honour! [Exeunt Lucio and ISAB
Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue !-

What's this? what's this? Is this her fault or mine?

The

The tempter, or the tempted, who fins moft? Ha!
Not fhe; nor doth fhe 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 feafon. Can it be,
That modefty may more betray our sense
Than woman's lightnefs? having wafte ground e-
Shall we defire to raze the fanctuary, [nough,
And pitch our evils there? Oh, fie, fie, fie!
What doft thou? or what art thou, Angelo?
Doft thou defire her foully, for thofe things
That make her good? Oh, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority,

When judges fteal themfelves. What? do I love her,
That I defire to hear her fpeak again,

And feaft upon her eyes? what is't I dream on ?
Oh, cunning enemy, that, to catch a faint,
With faints doft bait thy hook! moft dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on
To fin in loving virtue: never could the ftrumpet
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once ftir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite -Ever, 'till now,

When men were fond, I smil'd and wonder'd how.

SCENE III. A Prifon.

[Exit.

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 blefs'd order, I come to vifit the afflicted fpirits

Here

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