All fects, all ages fmack o' th' vice; and he To die for it! Enter Angelo. Ang. Now, what's the matter, Provost? Prov. Is it your will Claudio fhall die to-morrow?. Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadft thou not order? Why afk again? Prov. Left I might be too rash. Under your good correction, I have feen Ang. Let that be mine Do you your office, or give up your place, Prov. I crave your pardon. What shall be done, Sir, with the groaning Juliet? Ang. Difpofe of her To fome more fitting place, and that with speed. Ang. Hath he a fifter? Prov. Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid, And to be fhortly of a fifter-hood, Let her have needful, but not lavish means; There fhall be order for it. [Exit Servant. SCENE VII. Enter Lucio and Ifabella. Prov. 'Save your honour! Ang. Stay yet a while. Y'are welcome; what's your will ? Ifab. I am a woful fuitor to your honour, Pleafe but your honour hear me. Ang. What's your fuit ? Ifab. There is a vice that most I do abhor, And most defire should meet the blow of juffice, Ang. Ang. Well; the matter? fab. I have a brother is condemn'd to-day; I do befeech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother. Prov. Heav'n give thee moving graces! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? To fine the faults, whofe fine ftands in record, Ifab. O juft, but severe law! I had a brother then;-heav'n keep your honour! Lucio. Give't not o'er fo: to him again, intreat him, Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; You are too cold; if you should need a pin, You could not with a more tame tongue defire it. Ifab. Muft he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no remedy. Ifab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, Ifab. But can you if you would? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. lab. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, If fo 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. Ifab. Too late? why, no; I that do speak a word, 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 heav'n I had your potency, VOL. II. And And you were fabel; fhould it then be thus? Lucio. Ay, touch him; there's the vein. Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once; mercy Ang. Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother. It fhould be thus with him; he dies to-morrow. Ifab. To-morrow? oh! that's fudden. Spare him, fpare He's not prepar'd for death: even for our kitchins [him. We kill the fowl of season; ferve we heav'n With less refpect than we do minifter To our grofs felves? good, good my lord, bethink you: There's many have committed it. Lucio. Ay, well faid. Ang. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath slept : Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, If the first man that did th' edict infringe Jfab. Yet fhew fome pity. Ang. I fhew it most of all when I fhew juftice; For then I pity those I do not know, Which a diimifs'd offence would after gall; And And do him right, that anfwering one foul wrong, Ifab. So you must be the first that gives this sentence, To have a giant's ftrength; but tyrannous To use it like a giant. Lucio. That's well faid. Ifab. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet; Inceffantly would use his heav'n for thunder; (Moft ignorant of what he's most affur'd, His glaffy effence) like an angry ape, Plays fuch fantaftick tricks before high heav'n, As makes the angels weep; who with our spleens Would all themselves laugh mortal. Lucio. Oh, to him, to him, wench; he will relent; He's coming: I perceive't. Prov. Pray heav'n fhe win him. Ifab. We cannot weigh our brother with your felf: Great men may jest with faints; 'tis wit in them, But in the lefs foul prophanation. Lucio, Thou'rt right, girl; more o' that. Ifab. That in the captain's but a cholerick word, Which in the foldier is flat blafphemy. Lucio. Art thou advis'd o' that? more on't, yet more. Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, That ĺkins the vice o' th' top: go to your bofom, A natural guiltiness, such as is his, Let it not found a thought upon your tongue C 2 Against Against my brother's life. Ang, She fpeaks, and 'tis Such fenfe, that my fenfe bleeds with't. Fare you well.. 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. Ifab. Not with fond fhekels of the tested gold, Ang. Well; come to-morrow. For I am that way going to temptation, Ifab. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend you ? Ang. At any time 'fore noon. Ifab. 'Save your honour! [Afide. [Exeunt Lucio and Ifabella. SCENE VIII. 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 fhe; nor doth fhe tempt; but it is I That lying by the violet in the fun, Than woman's lightnefs? having wafte ground enough, And pitch our evils there: oh, fie, fie, fie! Thieves |