That we may bring you something on the way.

DUKE. My haste may not admit it;
Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do
With any scruple: your scope is as mine own:
So to enforce, or qualify the laws
As to your soul seems good. Give me your

hand;
I'll privily away: I love the people,
But do not like to stage me to their eyes :
Though it do well, I do not relish weli
Their loud applause,

and aves vehement: Nor do I think the man of safe discretion, That does affect it. Once more,

fare
you

well. ANG. The heavens give safety to your pur

poses ! Escal. Lead forth, and bring you back in

happiness. DUKE. I thank

you

well. MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 1, s. l.

you: Fare

:

GAIN AND KEEP A VIRTUOUS

SISTER'S LOVE. Lucio.

This is the point. The duke is very strangely gone from hence; Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand, and hope of action: but we do learn, By those that know the very nerves of state, His givings out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. Upon his place, And with full line of his authority, Governs lord Angelo : a man, whose blood Is very snow-broth; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense ;

But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge
With profits of the mind, study and fast.
He (to give fear to use and liberty,
Which have, for long, run by the hideous law,
As mice by lions,) hath pick'd out an act,
Under whose beavy sense your brother's life
Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it;
And follows close the rigour of the statute,
To make him an example; all hope is gone,
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
To soften Angelo: And that's my pith
Of business 'twixt you

and
your poor

brother.

He has censur'd him
Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath
A warrant for his execution.

ISABELLA. My power! alas ! I doubt.-
LUCIO.

Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt: Go to lord Angelo,
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue,
Men give like gods; but when they weep and

kneel,
All their petitions are as freely theirs
As they themselves would owe them.

ISAB. I'll see what I can do.
Lucio.

But, speedily.
ISAB. I will about it straight;
No longer staying but to give

the mother Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you : Commend me to my

brother : soon at night I'll send him certain word of my success.

LUCIO. I take my leave of you.
ISAB.

Good sir, adieu.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 1, s. 5.

GOD HELPS WHERE PURE AFFEC

TION EXISTS. MIRANDA.

Alack! what trouble Was I then to you! PROSPERO.

O! a cherubim Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thou didst

smile, Infused with a fortitude from heaven, When I have deck'd the sea with drops full salt; Under

my

burden groan'd; which rais'd in me An undergoing stomach, to bear up Against what should ensue.

A. 1, s. 2.

TEMPEST,

GOD'S IMAGE. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties ! in form, and moving, how express and admirable! in action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals!

HAMLET, A. 2, s. 2.

GOOD DESERTED BRINGS
DESPERATION.

IF thou speak'st false,
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive,
Tiil famine cling thee: if thy speech be sooth,
I care not if thou dost for me as much.--
I pull in resolution; and begin
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend,
That lies like truth: Fear not, till Birnam wood
Do come to Dunsinane ;-and now a wood

Comes toward Dunsinane. — Arm, arm, and

out!If this, which he avouches, does appear, There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying here. I’gin to be a-weary of the sun, And wish the estate o' the world were now

undone. Ring the alarum bell:-Blow, wind! come, wrack! ! At least we'll die with harness on our back.

MACBETH, A. 5, 8.5.

GOD WORKS WITH THOSE THAT

WORK WITH HIM. COUNTESS. Even so it was with me, when I

was young: If we are nature's, these are ours; this thorn Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong :

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born; It is the show and seal of nature's truth, Where love's strong passion is impress'd in youth: By our remembrances of days foregone, Such were our faults ;-or then we thought them

none. Her

eye is sick on’t; I observe her now. HELENA. What is your pleasure, madam ? COUNT.

You know, Helen, I am a mother to you.

HEL. Mine honourable mistress.
COUNT.

Nay, a mother; Why not a mother? When I said, a mother, Methought you saw a serpent: What's in mother, That you start at it? I

say,
I
your

mother; And put you in the catalogue of those That were enwombed mine: 'Tis often seen,

am

L

a

I am your

Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds
A native slip to us from foreign seeds :
You ne'er oppress’d me with a mother's groan,
Yet I
express

to
you a

mother's care: God's mercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood, To say, I am thy mother?

What's the matter, That this distemper'd messenger of wet, The many-colour'd Iris, rounds thine eye ? Why ? that

you are my daughter ? HEL.

That I am not. Count. I say,

mother. HEL.

Pardon, madam; The count Rousillon cannot be

my

brother:
I am from humble, he from honour'd name;
No note upon my parents, his all noble:
My master, my dear lord he is : and I
His servant live, and will his vassal die:
He must not be

my

brother. COUNT.

Nor I
your

mother? HEL. You are my mother, madam; 'Would

you were (So that my lord, your son, were not my

brother) Indeed, my mother!—or were you both our

mothers, I care no more for, than I do for heaven, So I were not his sister: Can't no other, But, I your daughter, he must be my brother? COUNT. Yes, Helen, you might be my

daughter-in-law; God shield, you mean it not! daughter, and

mother, So strive upon your pulse: What, pale again? My fear hath catch'd your fondness: Now I see The mystery of your loneliness, and find Your salt tears' head. Now to all sense 'tis

: