« ПредишнаНапред »
From fafting maids, whose minds are dedicate
Ang. Well; come to-morrow.
Isab. At what hour to-morrow
time 'fore noon. Ijab. Save your Honour!
[Exeunt Lucio and Isabella.
SCENE VIII. Ang. F Whos this what's miskys Whis her fault,
or mine? The tempter, or the tempted, who fins moft? Not she; nor doth she 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 season. Can it be, That modefty 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 dost thou ? or what art thou, Angelo? Doft 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 speak 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 C4
Is that teinptation, that doth goad us on
Changes to a Prison
Prov. I am the Provost ; what's your will,
Duke. When muft he die ?
Prov. As I do think, to-morrow.
you shall be conducted.
Hath blister'd her report:] Who doth not see that the Integrity of the Metaphor requires we should read, flames of her own youth.
Juliet. I do; and bear the shame most patiently. Duke. I'll teach you, how you shall arraign your
Juliet. I'll gladly learn.
Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act Was mutually committed.
Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter; but repent you not,
; And take the shame with joy:
Duke. There rest. Your partner,
as I hear, muft die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him ; So, grace go with you! benedicite.
[Exit. Juliet. Must die to-morrow! oh, injurious love, That refpites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror!
Prov. 'Tis pity of him.
S CE N E X.
As if I did but only chew its name;
How now, who's there?
Serv. One label, a fifter, defires access to you.
Enter I fabella.
Ang. That you might know it, would much
better please me, Than to demand, what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.
Isab. Ev’n so ? - Heaven keep your Honour !
[Going Ang. Yet may he live a while; and, it may be, As long as you or I; yet he must die.
Isab. Under your sentence?
Ijab. When, I beseech you ? that in his reprieve,
Ang. Ha ? fie, these filthy vices! 'twere as good To pardon him, that hath from nature ftol'n A man already made, as to remit Their fawcy sweetness, that do coin heav'n's image In stamps that are forbid : 'tis all as easy, Falsely to take away a life true made; As to put metal in restrained means, To make a false one.
Ifâb. 'Tis set down so in heav'n, but not in earth. Ang. And say you so? then I shall poze you
Isab. Sir, believe this,
Ang. I talk not of your soul; our compellid fins Stand more for number than
accompt. Isab. How fay you?
Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Isab. Please you to do'i,