The Complete Works of William Shakespeare · William Shakespeare
SCENE IV. A room in Angelo’s house.
Enter Angelo. ANGELO. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words, Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel. Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name, And in my heart the strong and swelling evil Of my conception. The state whereon I studied Is, like a good thing being often read, Grown sere and tedious; yea, my gravity, Wherein—let no man hear me—I take pride, Could I with boot change for an idle plume Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form, How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood. Let’s write good angel on the devil’s horn. ’Tis not the devil’s crest. [_Knock within._] How now, who’s there? Enter Servant. SERVANT. One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you. ANGELO. Teach her the way. [_Exit Servant._] O heavens, Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, Making both it unable for itself And dispossessing all my 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-wished king Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offence.
Enter Isabella. How now, fair maid? ISABELLA. I am come to know your pleasure. ANGELO. That you might know it, would much better please me Than to demand what ’tis. Your brother cannot live. ISABELLA. Even so. Heaven keep your honour. ANGELO. Yet may he live a while. And, it may be, As long as you or I. Yet he must die. ISABELLA. Under your sentence? ANGELO. Yea. ISABELLA. When, I beseech you? That in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted That his soul sicken not. ANGELO. 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. ’Tis all as easy Falsely to take away a life true made As to put metal in restrained means To make a false one. ISABELLA. ’Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. ANGELO. Say you so? Then I shall pose you quickly. Which had you rather, that the most just law Now took your brother’s life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness As she that he hath stained? ISABELLA. Sir, believe this: I had rather give my body than my soul. ANGELO. I talk not of your soul. Our compelled sins Stand more for number than for accompt.
ISABELLA. How say you? ANGELO. 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? ISABELLA. Please you to do’t, I’ll take it as a peril to my soul; It is no sin at all, but charity. ANGELO. Pleased you to do’t at peril of your soul, Were equal poise of sin and charity. ISABELLA. 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. ANGELO. Nay, but hear me. Your sense pursues not mine. Either you are ignorant, Or seem so, crafty; and that’s not good. ISABELLA. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better. ANGELO. 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 received plain, I’ll speak more gross. Your brother is to die. ISABELLA. So. ANGELO. And his offence is so, as it appears, Accountant to the law upon that pain.
ISABELLA. True. ANGELO. Admit no other way to save his life— As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But, in the loss of question, that you, his sister, Finding yourself desired of such a person Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-binding law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else to let him suffer, What would you do? ISABELLA. As much for my poor brother as myself. That is, were I under the terms of death, Th’ impression of keen whips I’d wear as rubies, And strip myself to death as to a bed That longing have been sick for, ere I’d yield My body up to shame. ANGELO. Then must your brother die. ISABELLA. And ’twere the cheaper way. Better it were a brother died at once Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. ANGELO. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slandered so? ISABELLA. Ignominy in ransom and free pardon Are of two houses. Lawful mercy Is nothing kin to foul redemption. ANGELO. You seemed of late to make the law a tyrant, And rather proved the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice.
ISABELLA. O, pardon me, my lord. It oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean. I something do excuse the thing I hate For his advantage that I dearly love. ANGELO. We are all frail. ISABELLA. Else let my brother die, If not a feodary but only he Owe and succeed by weakness. ANGELO. Nay, women are frail too. ISABELLA. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves, Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women?—Help, heaven! Men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints. ANGELO. 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 expressed By all external warrants, show it now By putting on the destined livery. ISABELLA. I have no tongue but one. Gentle my lord, Let me intreat you speak the former language. ANGELO. Plainly conceive, I love you. ISABELLA. My brother did love Juliet, And you tell me that he shall die for ’t.
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