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Lucio. Thou’rt right, girl; more o' that.
Isab. That in the Captain's but a cholerick word,
Lucio. Art avis'd o' that? more on't.
Ifab. Because authority, tho' it err like others,
Ang. She speaks, and 'tis such fenso,
sense breeds with it. Fare you well.
Lucio. You had marr'd all else.
Isab. Not with fond fhekles of the tested gold,
Ang. Well; come to mortow.
Isab. Ac what hour to morrow
Ang. At any time 'fore noon.
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 most? Not the ; 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 modelty 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 ? oh, fie, fie, fie! What doit thou? or what art thou, Angelo? Dost thou desire her foully, for those things That make her good? Oh, 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 (peak again, 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! most dangerous Is that temptation, that doth goad us on To fin in loving virtue : ne'er could the strumpet, With all her double vigour, art and nature, Once ftir my temper, but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite: Ever 'till this very Now, When men were fond, Į smil'd, and wonder'd how.
SCEN E changes to a Prison.
Enter Duke habited like a Friar, and Provost. Duke. AIL 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 blest 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
Duke. "When must he die?
Prov. As I do think, to morrow.
[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
Juliet. I'll gladly learn.
Hath blister'd her Report.] As, blister'd, follows in the second Line, Mr. Warburton ingeniously advises to read Flames in the forft. And it is the Metaphor our Author elsewhere chooses to use. So Polonius in Hamlet.
I do knor,
Lends the Tongue Vorus. Thele Blazes, oh, my daughter, &c. And so the Countess, in All's Well ibat ends Well.
Nat'ral Rebellion, done i'th' Blaze of Youth,
O'erbears it, and burns on.
do not give Dalliance
Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father.
Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter; but repent you not, As that the sin hath brought you to this shame? Which sorrow's always tow'rds our felves, not heaven; Showing we'd not seek heaven, as we love it, But as we stand in fear.
Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil;
Duke. There rest.
· SCENE changes to the PALACE.
Enter Angelo. Ang. WHEN I would pray and think, I think To sev'ral subjects : 'heav'n hath my empty words, Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel : Heav'n's in my mouth, As if I did but only chew its 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, 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 dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming? blood, thou art but blood : Let's write good Angel on the Devil's horn; 'Tis not the devil's crest.
Serv. One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you,
Ang. Teach her the way. Oh heav'ns!
Isab. Ev'n so? - Heav'n keep your Honour! (Going.
Ang. Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be,
Isab. Under your Sentence?
Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve,
Ang. Ha? fie, these filthy vices ! 'twere as good
Isab. 'Tis set down so in heav'n, but not in earth.