O Heavens! Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, And dispossessing all my other parts Enter ISABELla. How now, fair maid? Isa. 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. Isa. Even so-Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring. Ang. Yet may he live awhile:and, it may be, As long as you or I:-Yet he must die. Isa. Under your sentence? Ang. Yea. Isa. 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, In stamps that are forbid. Isa. "Tis set down so in Heaven, but not in earth. 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, Give up your person to such sweet uncleanness, As she that he hath stain'd? Isa. Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul. 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? Isa. Please you to do't, I'll take it as a peril to my soul, Ang. Pleased you to do't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poize of sin and charity. Isa. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, And nothing of your, answer. Ang. Nay, but hear me: Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good. Isa. 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: But mark me; To be received plain, I'll speak more gross: Isa. So. Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,— No earthly mean to save him, but that either What would you do? Isa. 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. Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slandered so? Isa. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses: lawful mercy is Nothing akin to foul redemption. Ang. You seemed of late to make the law a tyrant; And rather proved the sliding of your brother Isa. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, mean: I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Isa. Else let my brother die. Ang. Nay, women are frail too. Isa. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves; Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are, 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, That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none; By all external warrants,) show it now, Isa. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Isa. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell That he shall die for it. Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isa. I know, your virtue hath a license 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. Isa. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, me, And most pernicious purpose !-Seeming, seeming! 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 Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, That you shall stifle in your own report, |