Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare
page 56 of 164 (34%)
page 56 of 164 (34%)
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ANGELO.
At any time 'fore noon. ISABELLA. Save your honour! [Exeunt LUCIO, ISABELLA, PROVOST.] ANGELO. From thee; even from thy virtue!-- What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine? The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she; nor doth she tempt; but it is I That, lying by the violet, in the sun Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, 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; 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, With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on |
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