ANG. I will not do't. ISAB. But can you if you would. ANG. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. ISAB. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, As mine is to him? ANG. He's fentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. [To Ifabel. ISAB. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word, ISAB. I would to heav'n I had your potency, And what a prifoner. Lucio. Ay, touch him; there's the vein. ISAB. Alas! alas! Why, all the fouls that were, were forfeit once; [Exit. Like man new made. ANG. Be you content, fair maid. It is the law, not I condemns your brother. It should be thus with him-he dies to-morrow. ISA B. To-morrow, oh! that's fudden. Spare him, spare him. He's not prepar'd for death. Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl, of feafon; fhall we serve heav'n With less respect than we do minister To our grofs felves? good, good my lord, bethink you : There's many have committed it. LUCIO. Ay, well faid. ANG. The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath slept : If the first man, that did th' edict infringe, [Afide. Had answer'd for his deed. Now, 'tis awake; Take note of what is done: and, like a prophet, But ere they live to end. ISAB. Yet fhew some pity. ANG. I fhew it most of all, when I fhew juftice; For then I pity thofe, I do not know; Which a difmifs'd offence would after gaul; And do him right, that, anfwering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be fatisfy'd; Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. ISAB. So you must be the first, that gives this fentence; And he, that fuffers. Oh, 'tis excellent To have a giant's ftrength; but it is tyrannous, LUCIO. That's well faid. ISA B. Could great men thunder [Afide. As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet; Would use his heav'n for thunder; Nothing but thunder.- Thou rather with thy fharp, and fulph'rous, bolt Than the foft myrtle: O, but man! proud man, Moft ignorant of what he's most affur'd, His glaffy effence, like an angry ape, Plays fuch fantastick tricks before high heav'n, As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. LUCIO. Oh, to him, to him, wench; he will relent. [Afide. He's coming: I perceive't. PROV. Pray heav'n, the win him! [To Lucio. ISA B. We cannot weigh our brother with yourfelf: Great men may jeft with faints; 'tis wit in them; But, in the lefs, foul profanation. Lucio. Thou'rt right, girl; more o'that. [Afide. ISAB. That in the captain's but a cholerick word, LUCIO. Art advis'd o'that? more on't. [Afide. ANG. Why do you put these fayings upon me? That skins the vice o' th' top. Go to your bofom; Knock there, and ask your heart, what it doth know A natural guiltiness, such as is his, Let it not found a thought upon your tongue ANG. She speaks, and 'tis fuch sense, That my sense breeds with it. Fare you well. [Afide. [To Ifab. 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 heav'n shall share with you. ISAB. Not with fond fhekels of the tested gold, From fafting maids, whofe minds are delicate ANG. Well; come to-morrow. LUCIO. Goto; 'tis well; away. ISAB. Heav'n keep your honour safe! ANG. Amen : For I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers crofs. [Afide. [Afide to Ifabel. [Afide. ISAB. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship? ANG. At any time 'fore noon. ISAB. Save your honour ! SCENE [Exe. Lucio and Ifabel. VIII. ANG. From thee; even from thy virtue. What's this? what's this? is this her fault, or mine? The tempter, or the tempted, who fins most? That, lying by the violet in the fun, And pitch our evils there? oh, fie, fie, fie! When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her, And feast upon her eyes? what is't I dream on? To fin in loving virtue. Ne'er could the strumpet, When men were fond, I fmil'd, and wonder'd how. [Exit. SCENE IX. Changes to a prison. Enter Duke habited like a friar, and Provo. DUKE. Hail to you, Provoft! fo, I think, you are. PROV. I am the Provoft; what's your will, good friar? |