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O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
This virtuous maid
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. 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.
Isabella. O! I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect, Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
Why give you me this shame ?
The princely Angelo?
Duke. Nay, it is ten times strange.
Isabella. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness ! Make not impossible That which but seems unlike. 'Tis not impossible,
the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
By mine honesty,
O gracious duke,
Mariana. O my good lord ! Sweet Isabel, take my part: Lend me your knees, and, all my life to come, I'll lend you life to do
Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.
Most bounteous sir, Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my brother liv'd, I partly think, A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, Till he did look on me : since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died : For Angelo, His act did not o'ertake his bad intent; And must be buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects; Intents but merely thoughts.
TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU
ACT I. SCENE V.
Viola (disguised as a page).
Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive,
Viola. I see you what you are : you are too proud ;
Olivia. What is your parentage ? Above my fortunes, yet my state is well : I am a gentleman.”—I'll be sworn thou art, Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and spirit, Do give thee five-fold blazon ;-Not too fast:-soft! soft !