Measure for Measure

a function,
To fine 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!

Lucio

Aside 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
A s mine is to him?

Angelo He’s sentenced; ’tis too late. Lucio Aside 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 slipt 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 to Isabella. 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 condemn 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 Aside to Isabella. 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 new, or by remissness new-conceived,
And so in progress to be hatch’d 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 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 Aside to Isabella. 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
Split’st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man,
Drest 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 make 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 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 Aside to Isabella. Art avised 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

Aside. 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 Aside to Isabella. 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 sun-rise, 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 Isabella, Lucio, and 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,