Ang. [Afide.] She speaks, and 'tis f Such fenfe, that my fenfe breeds with it. [To Jab.] Fare you well. i Ifab. Gentle, my lord, turn back. Ang. I will bethink me :-Come again to-morrow. Ifab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my lord, turn back. Ang. How! bribe me? Ifab. Ay, with fuch gifts, that heaven shall share with you. Ifab. Not with fond fhekels of the tefted gold, h Ang. Well; come to me to-morrow. Lucio. Go to; 'tis well; [Afide to Isabel.] away. Jab. Heaven keep your honour safe! Ang. Amen: For I am that way going to temptation, 1 Where prayers crofs. [Afide. Ifab. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship? Ifab. Save your honour! [Exeunt Lucio and Ifabella. Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue! my fenfe breeds with it.]-my appetite forms new conceptions from it; new defires arife in my mind, are excited by her eloquence. g fond fhekels of the tefted gold,]-fuch trifling gifts as the finest gold. h preferved fouls,]-unfpotted. iWhere prayers cross. ]-where thy piety produces an effect contrary both to its nature and its purpose; does but add fewel to the flame, instead of allaying it ;-or, from which thy prayers would divert me. What's What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine? The tempter, or the tempted, who fins moft? Ha! Than' woman's lightness? having wafte ground enough, m And pitch our evils there? Oh, fie, fie, fie! What doft thou? or what art thou, Angelo? Doft thou defire her foully, for those things That make her good? Oh, let her brother live: When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her, And feaft upon her eyes? what is't I dream on? To fin in loving virtue: never could the ftrumpet, When men were fond, I fmil'd, and wonder'd how. [Exit. * Corrupt with virtuous feafon.]-grow putrid by what has virtuous effects; by means of that genial warmth, which gives fragrance to the violet. avoman's]-the wanton's. pitch our evils there ?]-plant, build our nuisances on that sacred fpot, and fo defile it. "Nor build their evils on the graves of great men." HENRY VIII, A& II, S. 1. Buck. SCENE Enter Duke, habited like a Friar, and Provoft. Duke. Hail to you, provoft! fo, I think, you are. Prov. I am the provoft: What's your will, good friar? Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits Here in the prison: do me the common right To let me fee them; and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly. Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful. Enter Juliet. Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine, Duke. When must he die? Prov. As I do think, to-morrow. P I have provided for you; ftay a while, [To Juliet. Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the fin you carry? science, And try your penitence, if it be found, Or hollowly put on. n " flares. blifter'd her report :]-finged her honour, tarnished her reputation, P provided for you ;]-a place to lie in at. Juliet. Juliet. I'll gladly learn. Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you? Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him, Duke. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act Was mutually committed? Juliet. Mutually. Duke. Then was your fin of heavier kind than his. Duke. 'Tis meet fo daughter: But left As that the fin hath brought you to this shame,Which forrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven; Shewing, we would not spare heaven, as we love it, But as we ftand in fear, Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil; And take the shame with joy. Duke. There reft. Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, [Exit. Juliet. Muft die to-morrow! Oh, injurious love, That refpites me a life, whofe very comfort Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To feveral fubjects: heaven hath my empty words; г But left you do repent,]-beware left you repent merely because the fin, &c. we would not spare]-fcruple to offend. injurious love,]-cruel kindness of Angelo, not to include me in Claudio's doom, to haften his death, and continue my hated life-injuricus law. S 'Tis pity of him.] of Angelo, that he should act thus rigorously. Whilft my "intention, hearing not my tongue, And in my heart, the strong and fwelling evil my conception: The ftate, whereon I ftudied, Is like a good thing, being often read, W Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity, Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume Serv. One Ifabel, a fifter, defires access to you. Ang. Teach her the way. [Solus.] Oh heavens! Why does my blood thus mufter to my heart, Making both it unable for itself, And difpoffeffing all my other parts Of neceffary fitness? So play the foolish throngs with one that fwoons; "intention,]-intenfe affection; my whole attention is fixed.—invention-imagination. "O, the did fo courfe-o'er my exteriors with fuch a greedy intention." MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, Act 1, S. 3., Fal. W fear'd]-loathfome, disgustful. for vane.]-vibrates like a weathercock-for vain. y Blood thou art blood!]—as well in me as in others-paffion, conftitutional frailty is univerfally the fame; title, character, and all fuch outward decorations, though they may difguife, yet cannot alter nature, or the real qualities of things. 'Tis not]-Twill-not give him a right to wear it. By |