Ang.
When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words;
Whilst my invention^{9 note}

Anchors on Isabel^{1 note}

Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,
'Tis not the devil's crest^{8 note}

Enter Servant.
How now, who's there?

Serv.
One Isabel, a sister,
Desires access to you.

Ang.
Teach her the way. O heavens! [Exit Serv.
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart^{9 note}
;
Making both it unable for itself,
And dispossessing all the 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-wish'd king,^{1 note}

Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Croud to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.

Enter Isabella.
How now, fair maid?

Isab.
I am come to know your pleasure.

Ang.
That you might know it, would much better please me,
Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.

Isab.
Even so?—Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring.

Ang.
Yet may he live a while; and, it may be,
As long as you, or I: Yet he must die.

Isab.
Under your sentence?

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! Fye, these filthy vices! It were as good
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen
A man already made^{2 note}
, as to remit
Their sawcy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image,
In stamps that are forbid^{3 note}

Falsely to take away a life true made^{4 note},
As to put mettle in restrained means^{5 note}

Isab.
'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth^{6 note}

Ang.
Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, That the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him^{7 note},
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness,
As she that he hath stain'd?

Isab.
Sir, believe this,
I had rather give my body than my soul^{8 note}

Ang.
I talk not of your soul; Our compell'd sins
Stand more for number than accompt^{9 note}

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:
Might there not be a charity in sin,
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^{1 note},
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,

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^{2 note}

Ang.
Nay, but hear me:
Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or seem so, craftily^{3 note}; and that's not good.

Isab.
Let me be ignorant^{4 note}, 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^{5 note}

Than beauty could displayed.—But mark me;
To be received 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^{6 note}.

Isab.
True.

Ang.
Admit no other way to save his life,

(As I subscribe not that^{7 note}

Isab.
As much for my poor brother, as myself:
That is, Were I under the terms of death,
The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.

Ang.
Then must your brother die.

Isab.
And 'twere the cheaper way:
Better it were, a brother died at once^{2 note}
,
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^{3 note}

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^{5 note}

Owe^{6 note}, and succeed by weakness^{7 note}

Ang.
Nay, women are frail too.

Isab.
Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke as they make forms^{8 note}

.
Women!—Help heaven! men their creation mar
In profiting by them^{9 note}

For we are soft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints^{1 note}

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;
If you be one, (as you are well express'd
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 intreat you speak the former language^{2 note}.

Ang.
Plainly conceive, I love you.

Isab.
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^{3 note}

Ang.
Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.

Isab.
Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And most pernicious purpose!—Seeming, seeming^{5 note}!—
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

Ang.
Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you^{6 note}

And now I give my sensual race the rein^{8 note}:
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes^{9 note}

Isab.
To whom shall I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof!

Bidding the law make court'sy to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fallen by prompture^{2 note} of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour^{3 note}

,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.
Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.

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