READ STUDY GUIDE: Act II, Scenes ii-iv |
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Act II, Scene ii
| [Enter PROVOST and a SERVANT.] |
| SERVANT.: |
| He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight. |
| I'll tell him of you. |
| PROVOST.: |
| Pray you do. |
| [Exit Servant.] |
| I'll know |
| His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas, |
| He hath but as offended in a dream! |
| All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he |
| To die for it! |
| [Enter ANGELO.] |
| ANGELO.: |
| Now, what's the matter, provost? |
| PROVOST.: |
| Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow? |
| ANGELO.: |
| Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? |
| Why dost thou ask again? |
| PROVOST.: |
| Lest I might be too rash: |
| Under your good correction, I have seen |
| When, after execution, judgment hath |
| Repented o'er his doom. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Go to; let that be mine: |
| Do you your office, or give up your place, |
| And you shall well be spared. |
| PROVOST.: |
| I crave your honour's pardon: |
| What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? |
| She's very near her hour. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Dispose of her |
| To some more fitter place; and that with speed. |
| [Re-enter Servant.] |
| SERVANT.: |
| Here is the sister of the man condemned |
| Desires access to you. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Hath he a sister? |
| PROVOST.: |
| Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, |
| And to be shortly of a sisterhood, |
| If not already. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Well, let her be admitted. |
| [Exit Servant.] |
| See you the fornicatress be remov'd; |
| Let her have needful but not lavish means; |
| There shall be order for it. |
| [Enter Lucio and ISABELLA.] |
| PROVOST.: |
| [Offering to retire.] Save your honour! |
| ANGELO.: |
| Stay a little while.—[To ISABELLA.]You are welcome. What's |
| your will? |
| ISABELLA.: |
| I am a woeful suitor to your honour, |
| Please but your honour hear me. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Well; what's your suit? |
| ISABELLA.: |
| There is a vice that most I do abhor, |
| And most desire should meet the blow of justice; |
| For which I would not plead, but that I must; |
| For which I must not plead, but that I am |
| At war 'twixt will and will not. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Well; the matter? |
| ISABELLA.: |
| I have a brother is condemn'd to die; |
| I do beseech you, let it be his fault, |
| And not my brother. |
| PROVOST.: |
| Heaven give thee moving graces. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Condemn the fault and not the actor of it! |
| Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done; |
| Mine were the very cipher of a function, |
| To find the faults whose fine stands in record, |
| And let go by the actor. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| O just but severe law! |
| I had a brother, then.—Heaven keep your honour! |
| [Retiring.] |
| LUCIO.: |
| [To ISABELLA.] Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him; |
| Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; |
| You are too cold: if you should need a pin, |
| You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: |
| To him, I say. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| Must he needs die? |
| ANGELO.: |
| Maiden, no remedy. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, |
| And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy. |
| ANGELO.: |
| I will not do't. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| But can you, if you would? |
| ANGELO.: |
| Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| But might you do't, and do the world no wrong, |
| If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse |
| As mine is to him? |
| ANGELO.: |
| He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late. |
| LUCIO.: |
| [To ISABELLA.] You are too cold. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| Too late? Why, no; I, that do speak a word, |
| May call it back again. Well, believe this, |
| No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, |
| Not the king's crown nor the deputed sword, |
| The marshal's truncheon nor the judge's robe, |
| Become them with one half so good a grace |
| As mercy does. |
| If he had been as you, and you as he, |
| You would have slipp'd like him; |
| But he, like you, would not have been so stern. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Pray you, be gone. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| I would to heaven I had your potency, |
| And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? |
| No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge |
| And what a prisoner. |
| LUCIO.: |
| [Aside.] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Your brother is a forfeit of the law, |
| And you but waste your words. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| Alas! alas! |
| Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; |
| And He that might the vantage best have took |
| Found out the remedy. How would you be |
| If He, which is the top of judgment, should |
| But judge you as you are? O, think on that; |
| And mercy then will breathe within your lips, |
| Like man new made. |
| ANGELO.: |
| Be you content, fair maid: |
| It is the law, not I, condemns your brother: |
| Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, |
| It should be thus with him;—he must die to-morrow. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him! |
| He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens |
| We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven |
| With less respect than we do minister |
| To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you: |
| Who is it that hath died for this offence? |
| There's many have committed it. |
| LUCIO.: |
| 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 the edict infringe |
| Had answer'd 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 now, or by remissness new conceiv'd, |
| And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,— |
| Are now to have no successive degrees, |
| But, where 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 dismiss'd offence would after gall, |
| And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, |
| Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; |
| Your brother dies to-morrow; 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.: |
| That's well said. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| Could great men thunder |
| As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er 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, |
| Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak |
| Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man! |
| Dress'd 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.: |
| O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent; |
| He's coming; I perceive 't. |
| PROVOST.: |
| 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.: |
| Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o' that. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| That in the captain's but a choleric word |
| Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. |
| LUCIO.: |
| 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' the 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.: |
| She speaks, and 'tis |
| Such sense that my sense breeds with it.— |
| Fare you well. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| Gentle my lord, turn back. |
| ANGELO.: |
| I will bethink me:—Come again to-morrow. |
| 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.: |
| You had marr'd all else. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, |
| Or stones, whose rates 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 |
| To-morrow. |
| 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 prayers cross. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| At what hour to-morrow |
| Shall I attend your lordship? |
| ANGELO.: |
| At any time 'fore noon. |
| ISABELLA.: |
| Save your honour! |
| [Exeunt LUCIO, ISABELLA, PROVOST.] |
| ANGELO.: |
| From thee; even from thy virtue!— |
| 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 smil'd and wonder'd how. |
| [Exit.] |
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