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 sun-rise; prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal.

Ang.

To-morrow.

Well: come to me

Lucio. Go to; it is well; away. [Aside to ISABEL. Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe!

Save your

honour!

Ang.

Shall I attend your lordship?

[Exeunt LUCIO, ISABELLA, and Provost. 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

6 Attested, stamped.

* Preserved from the corruption of the world.

Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,

And pitch our evils there? O, fy, fy, fy!
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.

SCENE III.

A Room in a Prison.

[Exit.

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
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 needful.

Enter JULIET.

Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flames of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: She is with child;
And he that got it, sentenc'd: a young man.
More fit to do another such offence,

Than die for this.

Duke.

When must he die?

Prov. As I do think, to-morrow.

I have provided for you; stay a while, [To JULIET. And you shall be conducted.

Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? Juliet. I do; and bear the shame most patiently. Duke. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience,

And try your penitence, if it be sound,

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 sin of heavier kind than his. Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father.

Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter: But lest you do

repent,

As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,-
Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven;
Showing, we'd not spare" 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, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.-
Grace go with you! Benedicite!

[Exit.

Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love,

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and

pray

To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words; Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,

As if I did but only chew his 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,

9 Spare to offend heaven.

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. O place! O 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 still art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,
"Tis not the devil's crest.

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart;

Making both it unable for itself,

And dispossessing all the 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

3

The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,

Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Croud to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.