The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.

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Reference: F5r - Comedies, p. 69

Left Column

Measure for Measure. Duk.
'Tis meet so (daughter) but least you do repent As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is alwaies toward our selues, not heauen, Showing we would not spare heauen, as we loue it, But as we stand in feare.
I doe repent me, as it is an euill, And take the shame with ioy.
Duke. There rest: Your partner (as I heare) must die to morrow, And I am going with instruction to him:
Grace goe with you, Benedicite.
Exit. Iul. Must die to morrow? oh iniurious Loue That respits me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror. Pro. 'Tis pitty of him. Exeunt.
Scena Quarta. [Act 2, Scene 4] Enter Angelo. An.
When I would pray, & think, I thinke, and pray To seuerall subiects: heauen hath my empty words, Whilst my Inuention, hearing not my Tongue, Anchors on Isabell: heauen in my mouth, As if I did but onely chew his name,
And in my heart the strong and swelling euill Of my conception: the state whereon I studied Is like a good thing, being often read Growne feard, and tedious: yea, my Grauitie Wherein (let no man heare me) I take pride,
Could I, with boote, change for an idle plume Which the ayre beats for vaine: oh place, oh forme, How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit Wrench awe from fooles, and tye the wiser soules To thy false seeming? Blood, thou art blood,
Let's write good Angell on the Deuills horne 'Tis not the Deuills Crest: how now? who's there?
Enter Seruant. Ser. One Isabell, a Sister, desires accesse to you. Ang. Teach her the way: oh, heauens Why doe's my bloud thus muster to my heart,
Making both it vnable for it selfe, And dispossessing all my other parts Of necessary fitnesse? So play the foolish throngs with one that swounds, Come all to help him, and so stop the ayre
By which hee should reuiue: and euen so The generall subiect to a wel‑wisht King Quit their owne part, and in obsequious fondnesse Crowd to his presence, where their vn‑taught loue Must needs appear offence: how now faire Maid.
Enter Isabella. Isab.
I am come to know your pleasure.
An. That you might know it, wold much better please (me, Then to demand what 'tis: your Brother cannot liue. Isab. Euen so: heauen keepe your Honor. Ang. Yet may he liue a while: and it may be
As long as you, or I: yet he must die.
Isab. Vnder your Sentence? Ang. Yea. Isab. When, I beseech you: that in his Reprieue (Longer, or shorter) he may be so fitted
That his soule sicken not.
Ang. Ha? fie, these filthy vices: It were as good

Right Column

To pardon him, that hath from nature stolne A man already made, as to remit Their sawcie sweetnes, that do coyne heauens Image
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easie, Falsely to take away a life true made, As to put mettle in restrained meanes To make a false one.
Isab. 'Tis set downe so in heauen, but not in earth. Ang.
Say you so: then I shall poze you quickly. Which had you rather, that the most iust Law Now tooke your brothers life, and to redeeme him Giue vp your body to such sweet vncleannesse As she that he hath staind?
Sir, beleeue this. I had rather giue my body, then my soule.
Ang. I talke not of your soule: our compel'd sins Stand more for number, then for accompt. Isab. How say you? Ang.
Nay Ile not warrant that: for I can speake Against the thing I say: Answere to this, I (now the voyce of the recorded Law) Pronounce a sentence on your Brothers life, Might there not be a charitie in sinne,
To saue this Brothers life?
Isab. Please you to doo't, Ile take it as a perill to my soule, It is no sinne at all, but charitie. Ang. Pleas'd you to doo't, at perill of your soule
Were equall poize of sinne, and charitie.
Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sinne Heauen let me beare it: you granting of my suit, If that be sin, Ile make it my Morne‑praier, To haue it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answere.
Ang. Nay, but heare me, Your sence pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seeme so crafty; and that's not good. Isab. Let be ignorant, and in nothing good,
But graciously to know I am no better.
Ang. Thus wisdome wishes to appeare most bright, When it doth taxe it selfe: As these blacke Masques Proclaime an en‑shield beauty ten times louder Then beauty could displaied: But marke me,
To be receiued plaine, Ile speake more grosse: Your Brother is to dye.
Isab. So. Ang. And his offence is so, as it appeares, Accountant to the Law, vpon that paine. Isab.
Ang. Admit no other way to saue his life (As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the losse of question) that you, his Sister, Finding your selfe desir'd of such a person,
Whose creadit with the Iudge, or owne great place, Could fetch your Brother from the Manacles Of the all‑building‑Law: and that there were No earthly meane to saue him, but that either You must lay downe the treasures of your body,
To this supposed, or else to let him suffer: What would you doe?
Isab. As much for my poore Brother, as my selfe; That is: were I vnder the tearmes of death, Th'impression of keene whips, I'ld weare as Rubies,
And strip my selfe to death, as to a bed, That longing haue bin sicke for, ere I'ld yeeld My body vp to shame.
Ang. That

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