Ang. I will bethink me: come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back.

Ang. How! bribe me?

Isab. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share
with you.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] 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.
Well; come to me to-morrow.
Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Go to; 'tis well; away!
Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe!

[Aside.] Amen :

Ang.
For I am that way going to temptation,

Where prayers cross.

Isab.

150

At what hour to-morrow

At any time 'fore noon. 160

Shall I attend your lordship?
Ang.

Isab. 'Save your honour!

Ang.

[Exeunt Isabella, Lucio, 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,

149. fond, foolishly desired,

and pronunciation of the word.

159. cross, i. e. cross one's path, bar the way; Isabel's deferential leave-taking being in effect a prayer for his honour.

Corrupt with virtuous season.

Can it be

That modesty 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? O, fie, fie, fie!
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 smiled and wonder'd

170

180

how.

[Exit.

SCENE III. A room in a prison.

Enter, severally, DUKE disguised as a friar,
and PROVOST.

Duke. Hail to you, provost! so I think you are.

Prov. I am the provost.

good friar?

What's your will,

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

172. evils, privies.

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 flaws of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: she is with child;
And he that got it, sentenced; 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 awhile, [To Juliet.
And you shall be conducted.

Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you
carry?

Jul. 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.

Jul.

I'll gladly learn.

Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you? Jul. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.

Duke. So then it seems your most offenceful

act

Was mutually committed?

Jul.

Mutually.

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

10. gentlewoman (trisyllabic). 11. flaws, gusts, violent blasts.

But Warburton's reading flames is very probably right.

Jul. 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 would not spare heaven as we love it,
But as we stand in fear,-

Jul. 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.

Jul. Must die to-morrow! O injurious love,
That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!

Prov.

'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt.

30

40

SCENE IV. A room in ANGELO's house.

Enter ANGELO.

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,

40. love, the indulgence of speare's word. the law. But law, as suggested

by Hanmer, is very likely Shake

2. several, different.

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 art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn;
'Tis not the devil's crest.

Enter a Servant.

How now! who's there?

Serv. One Isabel, a sister, desires access to

you.

Ang. Teach her the way. [Exit Serv.] O
heavens !

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making both it unable for itself,

And dispossessing all my 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
The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.

ΤΟ

20

legend; hence Johnson's reading, "Tis yet the devil's crest,' is plausible.

27. The general, the populace. 27-30. Like the similar passage in i. 1. 68-71, these lines have been thought to offer an apology for James's haughty demeanour on his entry into England.