ANGELO

What way? the devils way, the way of sin, The way of hight damnation, way of lust: And you to, wash away the poor men bred In bowls of drunkenness. Your names even brand you, you are Spurgius called And Like a Sponge you suck up liquorous wines Till your soul reels to hell. For blood of grapes you sold the widows food. And starving them, 'tis murder, whats this but hell. Hircius your name, and Goatish is your nature: You snatch the meat out of the prisoners mouth, To fatten harlots, is not this hell to, No Angel, but the devil waits on you. Play no more Villains with so good a Lady, For if you do — — —. Away, and once more mend. Here most holy Mistress. No my deer Lady, I could weary slarres, And force the wakeful Moon to loose her eyes By my late watching, but to wait on you, When at your prayers you kneel before the Altar, Me thinks I'm singing with some Choir in Heaven, So blessed I hold me in your company: Therefore my most-loved mistress do not bid Your boy so serviceable to get heuce, For then you break his heart. Proud am I that my Ladies modest eye, So likes so poor a servant. I am not, I did never Know who any mother was, but by yond Palace Filled with bright heavenly Courtiers, I dare assure you, And pawn these eyes upon it, and this hand, My father is in Heaven, and pretty Mistress, If your illustrious hour Glass spend his sand No worse then yet it does, upon my life You and I both shall meet my father there, And he shall bid you welcome. Yes, my sweetest Mistress. Oh my admired mistress; quench not out The holy fires within you, though temptations Shower down upon you: clasp thine armour on, Fight well and thou shalt see, after these wars Thy head wear Sun beams, and thy feet touch stars. Like slaves you sold your souls for golden dross, Bewitching her to death, who stepped between You, and the gallows. The misery of that mistress is mine own, She beggared, I left wretched. Go, go, you're beggars both, you are not worth That leather on your feet. I'am glad I tried your love, which see I want not, So long as this is full. No blows, no bitter language, all your gold gone. Come, sighs not, I so little am in love With that whose lose kills you, that see 'tis yours, All yours, divide the heap in equal share, So you will go along with me to prison, And in our mistress sorrows bear a partly: Say, will you? follow me then, repair your bade deeds passed, Happy are men when their best days are last, Yes, and would you did so, where are your clothes? Why where are they? Why pawned, where's all the gold I left with you? Are you made all of lies? I know which way Your gilt-winged pieces flew; I will no more Be mocked by you: be sorry for your riots, Tame your wild flesh by labour, eat the bred God with hard hands: let sorrow be your whip To draw drops of repentance from your heart, When I read this amendment in your eyes, You shall not want, till then my pity die. Fear not Mistress, If he dare offer violence, we two Are strong enough for such a sickly man. Die happy for this language. They are come sir at your call. Shrink not deer mistress. There fix thine eye still, thy glorious crown must come Not from soft pleasure, but by martyrdom, There fix thine eye still, when we next do meet, Not thorns, but roses shall bear up thy feet: There fix thine eye still. Are you amazd'd Sir—so great a Roman spirit and does it tremble. To you: I had a mistress late senthence by you Upon a bloody errand, you entreated That when she came into that blessed Garden Whither she knew she went, and where (now happy) She feeds upon all joy, she would send to you Some of that Garden fruit and flowers, which here To have her promise saved, are brought by me. Yes, if the Master Will give you entrance. Angelo vanishes. Exit thy foot there, Nor be thou shaken with a Caesars voice, Though thousand death's were in it: and I then Will bring thee to a River that shall wash Thy bloody hands clean, and more white then Snow, And to that Garden where these blessed things grow, And to that martyred Virgin, who hath sent That heavenly token to thee; Spread this brave wing And serve then Caesar, a far greater King. Oh! now your hearts make ladders of your eyes In show to climb to heaven, when your devotion Walks upon crutches: where did you waste your time When the religious man was on his knees, Speaking the heavenly language. Have you the baskets emptied which your Lady Sent from the charitable hands, to women That dwell upon her pity? And went your money to the prisoners. Avant you thieves, and hollow hypocrites. Your hearts to me lie open Like black books, And there I read your doings. Too well on your sides, you are hid in gold Over head and ears. Know I am the same, And still the servant to your piety, Your zealous prayers and pious deeds first won me (But 'twas by his command to whom you sent they) To guide your steps. I tried your charity, When in a beggars shape you took me up And clothd my naked limbs, and after fed (As you believed) my famishd mouth. Learn all By your example to look on the poor With gentle eyes, for in such habits often Angels desire and Alms. I never left you, Nor will I now, for I am sent to carry Your pure and innocent soul to joys eternal, Your martyrdom once suffered, and before it Ask any thing from me, and rest assured You shall obtain it I will perform it. And in that instant when the sword seta free Your happy soul his shall have liberty. Is there ought else? Willingly deer Mistress. Courage Mistress, These Martyrs but prepare your glorious fate, You shall exceed them and not imitate. Haste to thy place appointed cursed fiend, In spite of hell this soldier's not thy prey, 'Tis I have won, thou that hast lost the day.