Page 1125 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman’s lightness? Having waste ground enough, [170]
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary
And pitch our evils there? O fie, fie, fie!

What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully for those things
That make her good? O, let her brother live! [175]
Thieves for their robbery have authority,

When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her,
That I desire to hear her speak again?
And feast upon her eyes? What is’t I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, [180]

With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet
With all her double vigour, art and nature,

Once stir my temper: but this virtuous maid [185]
Subdues me quite. Ever till now
When men were fond, I smil’d, and wonder’d how.
Exit.

Scene III IT

[A Prison.]

Enter [severally] Duke [disguised as a Friar] and Provost.

DUKE
Hail to you, Provost − so I think you are.

PROVOST
I am the Provost. 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 [5]