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From fafting maids, whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Ang. Well; come to-morrow.
Lucio. Go to; 'tis well; away.
Hab. Heav'n keep your Honour fafe!

Ang. Amen:
For I am that way going to temptation,
Where prayers cross,

Isab. At what hour to-morrow
Shall I attend your lordship?
Ang. At


time 'fore noon. Ijab. Save your Honour!

[Exeunt Lucio and Isabella.

SCENE VIII. Ang. F Whos this what's miskys Whis her fault,

or mine? The tempter, or the tempted, who fins moft? 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 modefty 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? oh, fie, fie, fie ! What dost thou ? or what art thou, Angelo? Doft thou desire her foully, for those things That make her good? Oh, let her brother live: 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? Oh, cunning enemy, that, to catch a Saint, With Saints doft bait thy hook! most dangerous C4


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Is that teinptation, that doth goad us on
To fin in loving virtue: ne'er could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite : Ever 'till this very Now,
When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how.


Changes to a Prison
Enter Duke habited like a Friar, and Provof.
Duke. AIL 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 blest Order,
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
To them accordingly.
Prov. I would do more than that, if more were

Enter Juliet.
Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of nine,
*Who falling in ihe flames of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: she is with child ;
And he, that got it, sentenc'd: a young

More fit to do another such offence,
Than die for this.

Duke. When muft he die ?

Prov. As I do think, to-morrow.
I have provided for you ; stay a while, [To Juliet.

you shall be conducted.
Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the fin you carry?
* Who falling in the flaws of her own youth

Hath blister'd her report:] Who doth not see that the Integrity of the Metaphor requires we should read, flames of her own youth.


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Juliet. I do; and bear the shame most patiently. Duke. I'll teach you, how you shall arraign your

And try your penitence, if it be found,
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 fin of heavier kind than his.
Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father.

Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter; but repent you not,
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame?
Which forrow's always tow'rds ourselves, not heay'n;.
Shewing, we'd not seek heaven, as we love it,
But as we stand in fear.
Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil

; And take the shame with joy:

Duke. There rest. Your partner,

as I hear, muft die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him ; So, grace go with you! benedicite.

[Exit. Juliet. Must die to-morrow! oh, injurious love, That refpites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror!

Prov. 'Tis pity of him.

Changes to the Palace,

Enter Angelo.
Ang. WHEN I would pray and think, I think
To sev'ral subjects: heav'n hath my empty words,
Whilst 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 studied,
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. Oh place! oh form !
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming? blood, thou art but blood :
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn;
'Tis not the devil's creft.

Enter Servant.

How now, who's there?

Serv. One label, a fifter, defires access to you.
Ang. Teach her the way.

Oh heav'ns!
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making both' That unable for itself,
And difpofsefling all my other parts
Of necessary fitness ?
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
The gen'ral subjects to a well-wisht King
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence. How now, fair maid ?

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Enter I fabella.
Ifab. 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. Ev’n so ? - Heaven keep your Honour !

[Going 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.

Ijab. When, I beseech you ? that in his reprieve,
Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted,
That his soul ficken not.

Ang. Ha ? fie, these filthy vices! 'twere as good To pardon him, that hath from nature ftol'n A man already made, as to remit Their fawcy sweetness, that do coin heav'n's image In stamps that are forbid : 'tis all as easy, Falsely to take away a life true made; As to put metal in restrained means, To make a false one.

Ifâb. 'Tis set down so in heav'n, but not in earth. Ang. And say you so? then I shall poze you

Which had you rather, that the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness,
As she, that he hath stain'd ?

Isab. Sir, believe this,
I had rather give my body than my soul.

Ang. I talk not of your soul; our compellid fins Stand more for number than

accompt. Isab. How fay you?

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Against the thing I say. 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 save this brother's life?

Isab. Please you to do'i,
I'll take it as a peril to my soul,
It is no fin at all, but charity.



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