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Lucio. Thou'rt right, girl; more o' that.
Ifab. That in the Captain's but a cholerick word,
Which in the Soldier is flat Blafphemy.

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

Ang. Why do you put these fayings upon me? Ifab. Because authority, tho' it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in it self,

That skins the vice o' th' top: go to your bofom; Knock there, and ask your heart, what it doth know That's like my brother's fault; if it confefs

A natural guiltinefs, fuch as is his,

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

Ang. She fpeaks, and 'tis fuch fenfe,

That my fenfe breeds with it. 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 fuch gifts, that heav'n fhall share with you.

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Lucio. You had marr'd all elfe.

Ifab. Not with fond fhekles of the tested gold,
Or ftones, whofe rate are either rich, or poor,
As fancy values them; but with true prayers,
That fhall be up at heav'n, and enter there,
Ere fun-rife: prayers from preferved fouls,
From fafting maids, whofe minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Ang. Well, come to morrow.

Lucio. Go to; 'tis well; away.

Ifab. Heav'n keep your Honour fafe!

Ang. Amen:

For I am that way going to temptation,

Where prayers crofs.

Ifab. At what hour to morrow

Shall I attend your lordship?

Ang. At any time 'fore noon.

Ifab. Save your Honour! [Exe. Lucio and Isabella.

Z 2

Ang.

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 moft?
Not the; nor doth the 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 modelty may more betray our fenfe, an
Than woman's lightness? having wafte ground enough,
Shall we defire to raze the fanctuary,

And pitch our evils there? oh, fie, fie, fie!
What doft thou? or what art thou, Angelo?
Doft thou defire her foully, for those things
That make her good? Oh, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority,

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

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! moft dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on

To fin in loving virtue: ne'er could the ftrumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature, cine.
Once ftir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite: Ever 'till this very Now,
When men were fond, I fmil'd, and wonder'd how.

Duke.

SCENE changes to a Prifon.

[Exit.

Enter Duke habited like a Friar, and Provoft.

HAIL to you, Provoft; fo, I think, you are.

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Prov. I am the Provoft; what's your Will, good Friar?

Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bleft Order, I come to vifit the afflicted fpirits

Here in the prifon; do me the common right
To let me fee them, and to make me know
The nature of their crimes; that I may minifter
To them accordingly.

Prov. I would do more than that, if more were

needful.

Enter Juliet.

Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flaws of her own youth, (12)
Hath blifter'd her report: fhe is with child;
And he, that got it, fentenc'd: a young man
More fit to do another fuch offence,

Than die for this.

Duke. When must he die?

Prov. As I do think, to morrow.

I have provided for you; ftay a while,
And you fhall be conducted.

[To Juliet.

Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the fin you carry? Juliet. I do; and bear the fhame moft patiently. Duke. I'll teach you, how you fhall arraign your conscience,

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 feems, your moft offenceful A&t Was mutually committed.

Juliet. Mutually.

Duke. Then was your fin of heavier kind than his.

(12) Who falling in the Flaws of her own Youth,

Hath blifter'd her Report.] As, blifter'd, follows in the fecond Line, Mr. Warburton ingeniously advises to read Flames in the firft. And it is the Metaphor our Author elsewhere chooses to ufe. So Poloaius in Hamlet.

I do know,

When the blood burns, bow prodigal the Soul

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Lends the Tongue Vows. These Blazes, ob, my daughter, &c. And fo the Countess, in All's Well that ends Well.

Nat'ral Rebellion, done i'th' Blaze of Youth,

When Oyl and Fire, too ftrong for Reafon's force,
Q'erbears it, and burns on.

And fo Profpero, in The Tempest;

do not give Dalliance

Too much the rein; the ftrongest Oaths are Stran

To'th Fire i'th' blood:

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Juliet. I do confefs it, and repent it, father. Duke. 'Tis meet fo, daughter; but repent you not, As that the fin hath brought you to this fhame? Which forrow's always tow'rds our felves, not heaven; Showing we'd not feek heaven, as we love it,

But as we ftand in fear.

Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil;

And take the fhame with joy.

Duke. There reft.090

Your partner, as I hear, muft die to morrow,
And I am going with inftruction to him;

So grace go with you; benedicite.

[Exit.

Juliet. Muft die to morrow! oh, injurious love, That refpites me a life, whofe very comfort

Is ftill a dying horror!

Prov. 'Tis pity of him.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the PALACE.

Enter Angelo.

Ang. WHEN I would pray and think, I think

and pray

To fev'ral fubjects: heav'n hath my empty words,
Whilft my invention, 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 ftrong and fwelling evil
Of my conception: the ftate, whereon I ftudied,
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 doft thou with thy cafe, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wifer fouls
To thy falfe feeming? blood, thou art but blood:
Let's write good Angel on the Devil's horn;
'Tis not the devil's creft.

Enter

Enter Servant.

How now, who's there?

Serv. One Ifabel, a fifter, defires access to you.
Ang. Teach her the way. Oh heav'ns!
Why does my blood thus mufter to my heart,
Making both That unable for it felf,
And difpoffeffing all my other parts

Of neceffary fitnefs?

So play the foolish throngs with one that fwoons
Come all to help him, and so stop the air
By which he should revive: and even fo
The gen'ral Subjects to a well-wisht King
Quit their own part, and in obfequious fondness
Crowd to his prefence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence. How now, fair maid?
Enter Ifabella.

Ifab. I 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. Ifab. Ev'n fo?- Heav'n keep your Honour! [Going. Ang. Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be,

As long as you or I; yet he must die.

Ifab. Under your Sentence?

Ang. Yea.

Ifab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer or fhorter, he may be fo fitted,

That his foul ficken not.

Ang. Ha? fie, thefe filthy vices! 'twere as good To pardon him, that hath from nature ftol'n'

A man already made, as to remit

Their fawcy fweetness, that do coin heav'n's image
In Stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as eafie,

Falfely to take away a life true made;

As to put Metal in reftrained means,

To make a falfe one.

༤. ༠

Ifab. 'Tis fet down fo in heav'n, but not in earth. Ang. And fay you fo? then I fhall poze you quickly.

24

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