Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
You are too cold: if you should need a pin,

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. 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

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,
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 slipp'd like him; but he, like you,
Would not have been so stern.

Ang.
Pray you, begone.
Isab. I would to Heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?
No; I would tell what 't were 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.

Isab.

Alas! alas!

a Well believe this-be well assured of this.

VOL. III.

Y

[Aside.

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,
If He, which is the top of judgment, should
But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.a

Ang.

Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

It should be thus with him ;-be must die to-morrow. Isab. To-morrow? O, that 's sudden! Spare him, spare him:

He 's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season;b shall we serve Heaven 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.

Ay, well said.

Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath

slept :

Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,

If the first that did the edict infringe

Had answer'd for his deed; now, 't is awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv'd,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born)
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But where they live, to end.

Yet show some pity.

Isab.
Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice;

a This has, we think, reference to the fine allusion to the redemption which has gone before: Think on that, and

you

will

then be as merciful as a man regenerate. b The fowl of season-when in season.

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.

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.

That 's well said.

Isab. Could great men thunder

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,
Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the soft myrtle: But man, proud man!
Dress'd in a little brief authority;

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,
Would all themselves laugh mortal."

Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent; He's coming, I perceive 't.

Prov.

Pray Heaven, she win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints: 't is wit in them; But, in the less, foul profanation.

Lucio. Thou 'rt in the right, girl; more o' that. Isab. That in the captain 's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

Lucio. Art avis'd o' that? more on 't.

a We understand this passage,-as they are angels, they weep at folly; if they had our spleens, they would laugh, as mortals.

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,

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
Against my brother's life.

Ang.

She speaks, and 't is

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.

Ang. How! bribe me?

Isab. Ay, with such gifts that Heaven shall share with you.

Lucio. You had marr'd all else.

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

Ang.
Well: come to me to-morrow.
Lucio. Go to: 't is well; away. [Aside to IsAbel.
Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe!

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

Amen :

[Aside.

At what hour to-morrow

Isab.
Shall I attend your lordship?
Ang.

Isab. Save your honour!

At any time 'fore noon.

[Exeunt LUCIO, Isab., and Prov.

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,
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,

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:
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,

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
Subdues me quite :-Ever till now,

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

SCENE III.A Room in a Prison.

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 bless'd order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits

Here in the prison: do me the common right