SCENE II. _Another room in the same.

_Enter PROVOST and a _Servant_._

_Serv._ He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight: I'll tell him of you.

_Prov._ Pray you, do. [_Exit Servant._] I'll know His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream! All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he 5 To die for 't!

_Enter ANGELO._

_Ang._ Now, what's the matter, provost?

_Prov._ Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow?

_Ang._ Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again?

_Prov._ Lest I might be too rash: Under your good correction, I have seen, 10 When, after execution, Judgement hath Repented o'er his doom.

_Ang._ Go to; let that be mine: Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spared.

_Prov._ I crave your honour's pardon. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? 15 She's very near her hour.

_Ang._ Dispose of her To some more fitter place, and that with speed.

_Re-enter _Servant_._

_Serv._ Here is the sister of the man condemn'd Desires access to you.

_Ang._ Hath he a sister?

_Prov._ Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, 20 And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already.

_Ang._ Well, let her be admitted. [_Exit Servant._ See you the fornicatress be removed: Let her have needful, but not lavish, means; There shall be order for 't.

_Enter ISABELLA and LUCIO._

_Prov._ God save your honour! 25

_Ang._ Stay a little while. [_To Isab._] You're welcome: what's your will?

_Isab._ I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me.

_Ang._ Well; what's your suit?

_Isab._ There is a vice that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice; 30 For which I would not plead, but that I must; For which I must not plead, but that I am At war 'twixt will and will not.

_Ang._ Well; the matter?

_Isab._ I have a brother is condemn'd to die: I do beseech you, let it be his fault, 35 And not my brother.

_Prov._ [_Aside_] Heaven 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, 40 And let go by the actor.

_Isab._ O just but severe law! I had a brother, then.--Heaven keep your honour!

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown: You are too cold; if you should need a pin, 45 You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say!

_Isab._ Must he needs die?

_Ang._ Maiden, no remedy.

_Isab._ Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. 50

_Ang._ I will not do't.

_Isab._ But can you, if you would?

_Ang._ Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.

_Isab._ But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse As mine is to him.

_Ang._ He's sentenced; 'tis too late. 55

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] You are too cold.

_Isab._ Too late? why, no; I, that do speak 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 sword, 60 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 slipt like him; but he, like you, 65 Would not have been so stern.

_Ang._ Pray you, be gone.

_Isab._ I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner.

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. 70

_Ang._ Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words.

_Isab._ Alas, alas! Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy. How would you be, 75 If He, which is the top of judgement, should But judge you as you are? O, 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 condemn your brother: 80 Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him: he must die to-morrow.

_Isab._ To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him! He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven 85 With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you; Who is it that hath died for this offence? There's many have committed it.

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] Ay, well said.

_Ang._ The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept: 90 Those many had not dared to do that evil, If the first that did the 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, that shows what future evils, 95 Either now, or by remissness new-conceived, And so in progress to be hatch'd and born, Are now to have no successive degrees, But, ere they live, to end.

_Isab._ Yet show some pity.

_Ang._ I show it most of all when I show justice; 100 For then I pity those I do not know, Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall; And do him right that, answering one foul wrong. Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. 105

_Isab._ So you must be the first that gives this sentence. And he, that suffers. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] That's well said.

_Isab._ Could great men thunder 110 As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder. Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt 115 Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, 120 Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] O, to him, to him, wench! he will relent; He's coming; I perceive't.

_Prov._ [_Aside_] Pray heaven she win him! 125

_Isab._ We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them. But in the less foul profanation.

_Lucio._ Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o' that.

_Isab._ That in the captain's but a choleric word, 130 Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] Art avised o' that? more on't.

_Ang._ Why do you put these sayings upon me?

_Isab._ Because authority, though it err like others. Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, 135 That skins the vice o' the 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 sound a thought upon your tongue 140 Against my brother's life.

_Ang._ [_Aside_] She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well.

_Isab._ Gentle my lord, turn back.

_Ang._ I will bethink me: come again to-morrow.

_Isab._ Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back. 145

_Ang._ How? bribe me?

_Isab._ Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] Yon had marr'd all else.

_Isab._ Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor 150 As fancy values them; but with true prayers That shall be up at heaven and enter there Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal.

_Ang._ Well; come to me to-morrow. 155

_Lucio._ [_Aside to Isab._] Go to; 'tis well; away!

_Isab._ Heaven keep your honour safe!

_Ang._ [_Aside_] 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 any time 'fore noon. 160

_Isab._ 'Save your honour!

[_Exeunt Isabella, Lucio, and Provost._

_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 sins most? Ha! Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I 165 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 sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, 170 Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, And pitch our evils 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: 175 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? O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, 180 With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet, With all her double vigour, art and nature, Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid 185 Subdues me quite. Ever till now, When men were fond, I smiled, and wonder'd how. [_Exit._

NOTES: II, 2.