William Shakespeare: Measure for Measure, Act II, Scene III
Updated September 23, 2019 |
Infoplease Staff
Enter, severally, Duke Vincentio disguised as a friar, and Provost
Bound by my charity and my blest order,
I come to visit the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison. Do me the common right
To let me see them and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.
I come to visit the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison. Do me the common right
To let me see them and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.
I would do more than that, if more were needful.
Enter Juliet
Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine,
Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: she is with child;
And he that got it, sentenced; a young man
More fit to do another such offence
Than die for this.
Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: she is with child;
And he that got it, sentenced; a young man
More fit to do another such offence
Than die for this.
As I do think, to-morrow.
I have provided for you: stay awhile,
I have provided for you: stay awhile,
To Juliet
And you shall be conducted.
I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience,
And try your penitence, if it be sound,
Or hollowly put on.
And try your penitence, if it be sound,
Or hollowly put on.
'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent,
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven,
Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it,
But as we stand in fear,—
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven,
Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it,
But as we stand in fear,—
There rest.
Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.
Grace go with you, Benedicite!
Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.
Grace go with you, Benedicite!
Exit
Must die to-morrow! O injurious love,
That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!
That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!
Exeunt
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