酷兔英语

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ANGELO. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late.

LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] You are too cold.
ISABELLA. Too late? Why, no; I, that do speak a word,

May call it back again. Well, believe this:
No ceremony that to great ones longs,

Not the king's crown nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon nor the judge's robe,

Become them with one half so good a grace
As mercy does.

If he had been as you, and you as he,
You would have slipp'd like him; but he, like you,

Would not have been so stern.
ANGELO. Pray you be gone.

ISABELLA. I would to heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabel! Should it then be thus?

No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge
And what a prisoner.

LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Ay, touch him; there's the vein.
ANGELO. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,

And you but waste your words.
ISABELLA. Alas! Alas!

Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;
And He that might the vantage best have took

Found out the remedy. How would you be
If He, which is the top of judgment, should

But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,

Like man new made.
ANGELO. Be you content, fair maid.

It is the law, not I condemn your brother.
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

It should be thus with him. He must die to-morrow.
ISABELLA. To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him.

He's not prepar'd for death. Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season; shall we serve heaven

With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you.

Who is it that hath died for this offence?
There's many have committed it.

LUCIO. [Aside] Ay, well said.
ANGELO. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.

Those many had not dar'd to do that evil
If the first that did th' edict infringe

Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake,
Takes note of what is done, and, like a prophet,

Looks in a glass that shows what future evils-
Either now or by remissness new conceiv'd,

And so in progress to be hatch'd and born-
Are now to have no successive degrees,

But here they live to end.
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 dismiss'd offence would after gall,
And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,

Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;
Your brother dies to-morrow; 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. [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,
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak

Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man,
Dress'd in a little brief authority,

Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
His glassyessence, like an angry ape,

Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep; who, with our speens,

Would all themselves laugh mortal.
LUCIO. [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. [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. [To ISABELLA] Art avis'd 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.- Fare you well.

ISABELLA. Gentle my lord, turn back.
ANGELO. I will bethink me. Come again to-morrow.

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. [To ISABELLA) You had marr'd all else.

ISABELLA. Not with fond sicles 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 sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls,
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate

To nothing temporal.
ANGELO. Well; come to me to-morrow.

LUCIO. [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 prayers cross.
ISABELLA. At what hour to-morrow

Shall I attend your lordship?
ANGELO. At any time 'fore noon.

ISABELLA. Save your honour! Exeunt all but ANGELO
ANGELO. 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 flow'r,

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 lovingvirtue. 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 smil'd and wond'red how. Exit

SCENE III.
A prison

Enter, severally, DUKE, disguised as a FRIAR, and 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.

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, sentenc'd- a young man
More fit to do another such offence

Than die for this.
DUKE. When must he die?

PROVOST. As I do think, to-morrow.
[To JULIET] I have provided for you; stay awhile

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 wrong'd you?

JULIET. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd 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 to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.

Grace go with you! Benedicite! Exit
JULIET. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious law,

That respites me a life whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!

PROVOST. 'Tis pity of him. Exeunt
SCENE IV.

ANGELO'S house
Enter ANGELO



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