ISABELLA.
Sir, believe this:
I had rather give my body than my soul.
ANGELO.
I talk not of your soul. Our compelled sins
Stand more for number than for accompt.
ISABELLA.
How say you?
ANGELO.
Nay, I’ll not warrant that, for I can speak
Against the thing I say. Answer to this:
I, now the voice of the recorded law,
Pronounce a sentence on your brother’s life.
Might there not be a charity in sin
To save this brother’s life?
ISABELLA.
Please you to do’t,
I’ll take it as a peril to my soul;
It is no sin at all, but charity.
ANGELO.
Pleased you to do’t at peril of your soul,
Were equal poise of sin and charity.
ISABELLA.
That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
Heaven let me bear it. You granting of my suit,
If that be sin, I’ll make it my morn prayer
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answer.
ANGELO.
Nay, but hear me.
Your sense pursues not mine. Either you are ignorant,
Or seem so, crafty; and that’s not good.
ISABELLA.
Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,
But graciously to know I am no better.
ANGELO.
Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright
When it doth tax itself, as these black masks
Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder
Than beauty could, displayed. But mark me;
To be received plain, I’ll speak more gross.
Your brother is to die.