Which Sorrow is always towards our felves, not Heav'n,
Showing we would not fpare Heav'n, as we love it,
But as we ftand 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, muft die to Morrow,

And I am going with Inftruction to him;

Grace go with you, Benedicite.

Juliet. Muft die to Morrow? Oh injurious Love,

That refpites me a Life, whofe very Comfort

Is ftill a dying Horror.

Prov. 'Tis pity of him.

SCENE IV. The Palace
Enter Angelo.

[Exit.

[Exeunt.

pray

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and
To feveral Subjects: Heav'n hath my empty Words,
Whilft my Invention, hearing not my Tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: Heav'n's in my Mouth,
As if I did but only chew his Name,
And in my Heart the ftrong and fwelling Evil
Of my Conception: The State whereon I ftudied
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 doft thou with thy Cafe, thy Habit
Wrench Awe from Fools, and tie the wifer Souls
To thy falfe feeming? Blood, thou art Blood,
Let's write good Angel on the Devil's Horn;
'Tis not the Devil's Creft. How now? who's there?
Enter Servant.

Ser. One Ifabel, a Sifter, defires Access to you.
Ang. Teach her the way. Oh Heav'ns!

Why does my Blood thus mufter to my Heart,
Making both it unable for it self,

And difpoffeffing all my other Parts

Of neceffary fitnefs?

So

So play the foolish Throngs with one that swounds;
Come all to help him, and fo ftop the Air
By which he should revive; and even fo
The general Subjects to a well-wifht King,
Quit their own part, and in obfequious Fondness
Crowd to his Prefence, where their untaught Love
Muft needs appear Offence. How now, fair Maid?
Enter Ifabella.

Ifab. I am come to know your Pleafure.

Ang. That you might know it, would much better please me,
Than to demand what 'tis; your Brother cannot live.
Ifab. Even fo; Heav'n keep your Honour.

Ang. Yet may he live a while; and it may be
As long as you or I; yet he muft die.
Ifab. Under your Sentence?

Ang. Yea.

Ifab. When, I beseech you? that in his Reprieve, Longer or fhorter, he may be fo fitted,

That his Soul ficken not.

[Going.

Ang. Ha? fie, these filthy Vices; it were 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 eafie,
Falfely to take away a Life true made;

As to put Mettle in reftrained means,

To make a falfe one,

Ifab. 'Tis fet down fo in Heaven, but not in Earth.
Ang. Say you fo? Then I fhall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, that the most juft Law
Now took your Brother's Life; or to redeem him,
Give up your Body to fuch fweet Uncleannefs
As fhe that he hath ftain'd?

Ifab. Sir, believe this,

I had rather give my Body than my Soul.

Ang. I talk not of your Soul; our compell'd Sins Stand more for Number than for Accompt.

Ifab. How fay you?

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing I fay. Anfwer to this:

1, now the Voice of the recorded Law,

Pronounce

Pronounce a Sentence on your Brother's Life:
Might there not be a Charity in Sin,
To fave this Brother's Life?

Ifa. Please you to do't,

I'll take it as a Peril to my Soul;
It is no Sin at all, but Charity.

Ang. Pleas'd you to do't at Peril of your Soul,
Were equal poize of Sin and Charity.

Ifa. That I do beg his Life, if it be Sin,
Heav'n let me bear it, you granting of my Suit,
If that be Sin, I'll make it my Morn-pray'r,
To have it added to the Faults of mine,
And nothing of your Answer.

Ang. Nay, but hear me:

Your Senfe purfues not mine: Either you are ignorant, Or feem fo, craftily; and that's not good.

Ifa. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus Wifdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax it felf: As thefe black Masques Proclaim an en-fhield Beauty ten times louder Than Beauty could difplay'd. But mark me, To be reciev'd plain, I'll fpeak more grofs;} Your Brother is to die.

Ifa. So.

Ang. And his Offence is fo, as it appears,
Accountant to the Law upon that pain.
Ifa. True.

Ang. Admit no other way to fave his Life,
As I fubfcribe not that, nor any other,

But in the lofs of Queftion, that you, his Sifter,
Finding your felf defir'd of fuch a Perfon,
Whofe Credit with the Judge, or own great Place,
Could fetch your Brother from the Mannacles
Of the all-holding Law; and that there were
No earthly mean to fave him, but that either
You must lay down the Treasures of your Body,
To this fuppos'd, or elfe to let him fuffer,
What would you do?

Ifa. As much for my poor Brother as my felf;
That is, were I under the Terms of Death,

Th' impreffion of keen Whips, I'd wear as Rubies,
And ftrip my felf to Death, as to a Bed,
That longing I've been fick for, e'er I'd yield
My Body up to Shame.

Ang. Then muft your Brother die.
Ifab. And 'twere the cheaper way;
Better it were a Brother dy'd at once,
Than that a Sifter, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the Sentence That you have flander'd fo?

Ifab. Ignominy in Ranfom, and free Pardon, Are of two Houses; lawful Mercy

Is nothing kin to foul Redemption.

Ang. You feem'd of late to make the Law a Tyrant, And rather prov'd the fliding of your Brother

A Merriment than a Vice.

Ifab. Oh pardon me, my Lord; it oft falls out, To have what we would have,

We speak not what we mean:

I fomething do excuse the thing I hate
For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.

Ifab. Elfe let my Brother die,
If not a Feodary but only he

Owe, and fucceed by Weakness.

Ang. Nay, Women are frail too.

Ifab. Ay, as the Glaffes where they view themselves;
Which are as eafie broke as they make Forms;
Women! Help Heav'n; Men their Creation mar
In profiting by them: Nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are foft, as our Complexions are,
And credulous to falfe Prints.

Ang. I think it well;

And from this Teftimony of your own Sex,
Since I fuppofe we are made to be no stronger
Than Faults may fhake our Frames, let me be bold;
I do arreft your Words: Be that you are,

That is, a Woman; if you be more, you're none.
If you be one, as you are well expreft
VOL. I.

Q

By

By all external Warrants, fhew it now,
By putting on the deftin'd Livery.

Ifab. I have no Tongue but one; gentle my Lord,
Let me intreat you speak the former Language.
Ang. Plainly conceive I love you.

Ifab. My Brother did love Juliet;

And you tell me, that he fhall die for't.

Ang. He fhall not, Ifabel, if you give me Love Ifab. I know your Virtue hath a Licence in't, Which feems a little fouler than it is,

To pluck on others.

Ang. Believe me on mine Honour,

My Words exprefs my Purpose.

Ifab. Ha? Little Honour to be much believ'd, And moft pernicious Purpofe: Seeming, feeming. I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look for't:

Sign me a prefent Pardon for my Brother,

Or with an out-ftretch'd Throat I'll tell the World aloud What Man thou art.

Ang. Who will believe thee, Ifabel?

My unfoil'd Name, th' Aufterenefs of my Life,
My Vouch against you, and my Place i'th' State,
Will fo your Accufation over-weigh,
That you fhall ftifle in your own Report,
And smell of Calumny. I have begun,
And now I give my fenfual Race the Rein;
Fit thy Confent to my fharp Appetite,
Lay by all Nicety, and prolixious Blushes
That banish what they fue for; redeem thy Brother
By yielding up thy Body to my Will;
Or elfe he must not only die the Death,
But thy Unkindness fhall his Death draw out
To lingring Sufferance. Anfwer me to Morrow,
Or by the Affection that now guides me moft,
I'll prove a Tyrant to him. As for you,

Say what you car, my falfe o'er-weighs your true. [Exit
Ifab. To whom fhould I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous Mouths
That bear in them one and the felf-fame Tongue,
Either of Condemnation or Approof,

Bidding the Law make Curtfie to their Will,

Hooking