Ay, well said.

ANGELO

The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.

Those many had not dared to do that evil

If the first that did th‘edict infringe

Had answered 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 raw, or by remissness new conceived

And so in progress to be hatched and born,

Are now to have no successive degrees,

But ere 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 dismissed offence would after gall,

And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,

Lives not to act another. Be satisfied.

Your brother dies tomorrow. 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 (aside 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

Split’st the unwedgeable and gnarlèd oak

Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man,

Dressed in a little brief authority,

Most ignorant of what he’s most assured,

His glassy essence, like an angry ape

Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven

As makes the angels weep, who, with our spleens,

Would all themselves laugh mortal.

LUCIO (aside 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 (aside 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 (aside to Isabella) Art advised 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. (To Isabella) Fare you

well.

ISABELLA Gentle my lord, turn back.

ANGELO

I will bethink me. Come again tomorrow.

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 (aside to Isabella) You had marred all else.

ISABELLA

Not with fond shekels 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 sunrise, prayers from preserved souls,

From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate

To nothing temporal.

ANGELO Well, come to me tomorrow

LUCIO (aside 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 prayer is crossed.

ISABELLA

At what hour tomorrow

Shall I attend your lordship?

ANGELO

At any time fore noon.

ISABELLA

God save your honour.

ANGELO (aside)

From thee; even from thy virtue. Exeunt Isabella, Lucio, and Provost

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 flower,

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 loving virtue. 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 smiled, and wondered how.

Exit