ISABELLA
Yet show some pity.
ANGELO
I show it most of all when I show justice,
For then I pity those I do not know
Which a dismissed offence would after gall,
And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be satisfied.
Your brother dies tomorrow. Be content.
ISABELLA
So you must be the first that gives this sentence,
And he that suffers. O, it is excellent
To have a giant’s strength, but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.
LUCIO
(aside
to
Isabella)
That’s well said.
ISABELLA Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would never be quiet,
For every pelting petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder, nothing but
thunder.
Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Split’st the unwedgeable and gnarlèd oak
Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he’s most assured,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep, who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.
LUCIO
(aside
to
Isabella)
O, to him, to him, wench! He will relent.
He’s coming; I perceive’t.
PROVOST
(aside)
Pray heaven she win him!
ISABELLA
We cannot weigh our brother with ourself.
Great men may jest with saints; ’tis wit in them,
But in the less, foul profanation.
LUCIO
(aside
to
Isabella)
Thou’rt i’th’ right, girl. More o’
that.
ISABELLA
That in the captain’s but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
LUCIO
(aside
to
Isabella)
Art advised o’ that? More on’t.
ANGELO
Why do you put these sayings upon me?
ISABELLA
Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself
That skins the vice o’th’ top. Go to your bosom;
Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
That’s like my brother’s fault. If it confess
A natural guiltiness, such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
Against my brother’s life.
ANGELO
(aside)
She speaks, and ’tis such sense
That my sense breeds with it. (To
Isabella)
Fare you
well.
ISABELLA Gentle my lord, turn back.
ANGELO
I will bethink me. Come again tomorrow.
ISABELLA
Hark how I’ll bribe you; good my lord, turn back.
ANGELO How, bribe me?
ISABELLA
Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.
LUCIO
(aside
to
Isabella)
You had marred all else.
ISABELLA
Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,
Or stones, whose rate are either rich or poor
As fancy values them; but with true prayers,
That shall be up at heaven and enter there
Ere sunrise, prayers from preserved souls,
From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.
ANGELO Well, come to me tomorrow
LUCIO
(aside
to
Isabella)
Go to; ’tis well; away.
ISABELLA Heaven keep your honour safe.
ANGELO
(aside)
Amen;
For I am that way going to temptation,
Where prayer is crossed.
ISABELLA
At what hour tomorrow
Shall I attend your lordship?
ANGELO
At any time fore noon.
ISABELLA
God save your honour.
ANGELO
(aside)
From thee; even from thy virtue.
Exeunt Isabella, Lucio, and Provost
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
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 wondered how.
Exit
2.3
Enter
⌈
at one door
⌉
the Duke, disguised as a friar, and
⌈
at another door
⌉
the Provost
DUKE
Hail to you, Provost!—so I think you are.
PROVOST
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.
PROVOST
I would do more than that, if more were needful.
Look, here comes one, a gentlewoman of mine,
Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth,
Hath blistered 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?
PROVOST As I do think, tomorrow.
(To Juliet) I have provided for you. Stay a while,
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 wronged you?
JULIET
Yes, as I love the woman that wronged 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 would 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 tomorrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.
Grace go with you.
Benedicite!
Exit
JULIET
Must die tomorrow? O injurious law,
That respites me a life whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!
PROVOST
’Tis pity of him.
Exeunt
2.4
Enter
Angelo
ANGELO
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; God 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,
Grown seared 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 in 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 now the devil’s crest.
Enter Servant
How now? Who’s there?
SERVANT One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you.
ANGELO
Teach her the way.
Exit Servant
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-wished king
Quit their own part and, in obsequious fondness,
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.
How now, fair maid?
ISABELLA I am come to know your pleasure.
ANGELO (aside)
That you might know it would much better please me
Than to demand what ’tis. (To
Isabella)
Your brother
cannot live.
ISABELLA Even so. Heaven keep your honour.
ANGELO
Yet may he live a while, and it may be
As long as you or I. Yet he must die.
ISABELLA Under your sentence?
ANGELO Yea.
ISABELLA
When, I beseech you?—that in his reprieve,
Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted
That his soul sicken not.
ANGELO
Ha, fie, these filthy vices! It were as good
To pardon him that hath from nature stolen
A man already made, as to remit
Their saucy sweetness that do coin God’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 moulds,
To make a false one.
ISABELLA
’Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
ANGELO
Say you so? Then I shall pose you quickly.
Which had you rather: that the most just law
Now took your brother’s life, or, to redeem him,
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness
As she that he hath stained?
ISABELLA
Sir, believe this.
I had rather give my body than my soul.
ANGELO
I talk not of your soul. Our compelled sins
Stand more for number than for account.
ISABELLA
How say you?
ANGELO
Nay, I’ll not warrant that, for I can speak
Against the thing I say. Answer to this.
I now, the voice of the recorded law,
Pronounce a sentence on your brother’s life.
Might there not be a charity in sin
To save this brother’s life?
ISABELLA Please you to do’t,
I’ll take it as a peril to my soul
It is no sin at all, but charity.
ANGELO
Pleased you to do’t at peril of your soul
Were equal poise of sin and charity.
ISABELLA
That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
Heaven let me bear it. You granting of my suit,
If that be sin, I’ll make it my morn prayer
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answer.
ANGELO
Nay, but hear me.
Your sense pursues not mine. Either you are ignorant,
Or seem so craftily, and that’s not good.
ISABELLA
Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good
But graciously to know I am no better.