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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 glassy essence, 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