As long as you, or I: yet he must die. Ang. Yea. Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted, That his soul sicken not. Ang. 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 heaven's image, As to put mettle in restrained means, Isab. "Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. Isab. 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 accompt. Isab. How say you? Ang. 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: To save this brother's life? Isab. 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. Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit, Ang. Nay, but hear me : Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good. Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better. Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself: as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could displayed. But mark me; To be receiv'd plain, I'll speak more gross: Your brother is to die. Isab. So. Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain. 1sab. True. Ang. Admit no other way to save his life, Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself: The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield Ang. Then must your brother die. 1sab. And 'twere the cheaper way: Better it were, a brother died at once, Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slander'd so? Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses: lawful mercy is Nothing akin to foul redemption. Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant, And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice. Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean; I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail. Isab. Else let my brother die, If not a feodary, but only he, Nay, women are frail too. And credulous to false prints. Ang. I think it well: And from this testimony of your own sex, (Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold; I do arrest your words; Be that you are, That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none; you be one, (as you are well express'd If By all external warrants,) show it now, By putting on the destin❜d livery. Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Let me entreat you speak the former language. Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you. 1sab. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell me, That he shall die for it. Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Ang. Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, C And most pernicious purpose!-Seeming, seeming! Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world Ang. That you shall stifle in your own report, Or else he must not only die the death, [Exit. Bidding the law make court'sy to their will; To such abhorr'd pollution. Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die : And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit. SCENE 1. A Room in the Prison. Enter DUKE, CLAUDIO, and Provost. Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo? Claud. The miserable have no other medicine But only hope: I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. Duke. Be absolute for death; either death, or life, Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life,If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, Of a poor worm: Thy best of rest is sleep, . |