A room in ANGELO's house.
When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words;
my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew
And in my heart the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied
like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Whereinlet no man hear
meI take pride,
Could I with boot change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form,
often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming!
Blood, thou art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn:
'Tis not the devil's crest.
Enter a Servant
How now! who's there?
One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you.
Teach her the way.
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making both it unable for itself,
all my other parts
Of necessary fitness?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to
help him, and so stop the air
By which he should revive: and even so
The general, subject to a well-wish'd
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
needs appear offence.
How now, fair maid?
I am come to know your pleasure.
That you might know it, would much better please me
Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot
Even so. Heaven keep your honour!
Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be,
As long as you or I yet he must die.
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