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Ang. Did I not tell thee, yea ? hadst thou not
Why dost thou ask again?
Lest I might be too rash:
Under your good correction, I have seen,
When, after execution, judgement hath
Repented o'er his doom.
Go to; let that be mine;
Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you shall well be spar'd.
I crave your honour's pardon.-
What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?
She's very near her hour.
Dispose of her
To some more fitter place; and that with speed,
Sero. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd,
Desires access to you.
Hath he a sister?
Prov. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,
And to be shortly of a sisterhood,
If not already.
Well, let her be admitted.
See you, the fornicatress be remov'd;
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;
There shall be order for it.
Enter Lucio and Isabella.
Prov. Save your honour! [Offering to retire.
Ang. Stay a little while.-To Isab.) You are wel.
come: What's your will ?
Isab. I am a woeful suitor to your honour,
Please but your honour hear me.
Well; what's your suit?
Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.
Well; the matter?
Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die :
I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.
Heaven give thee moving graces! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it! Why, every fault's condemn'd; ere it be done: Mine were the very cipher of a function, To find the faults, whose fine stand in record, And let go by the actor. Isab.
O just, but severe law! I bad a brother then.-Heaven keep your honour!
[Retiring. Lucio. [To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him again,
entreat him ;
Kneel down before him, haug upon his gowu;
You are too colu: if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
To him, I say.
Isab. Must he needs die ?
Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.
Ang. I will not do't.
But can you, if you would ? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse
As mine is to him?
He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold.
[To Isabella. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back again: Well believet this,
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have slipt like him;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern,
Ang. Pray you, begone.
Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel ! should it then be thus? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner.
Lucio. Ay, touch him: there's the vein. (Aside.
Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words.
Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once;
And He that might the vantage best have took,
Found out the remedy: How would you be,
If he, which is the top of judgement, should
But judge you as you are? O think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.
Be you content, fair maid:
It is the law, not I, condemns your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,
It should be thus with him ;-he must die to-morrow.
Isab. Tomorrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him,
He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season*; shall we serve heaven
With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves ? Good, good my lord, bethink
Who is it that hath died for this offence?
There's many have committed it.
Ay, well said.
Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If the first man that did the edict infringe,
Had answer'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv'd,
And so in progress to be batch'd and born),
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But, where they live, to end.
Yet show some pity.
Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice;
For then I pity those I do not know,
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;
And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be satisfied ;
Your brother dies to-morrow: be content.
Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this sen.
And he, that suffers : 0, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giaut.
That's well said.
Isab. Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
For every pelting* petty officer,
Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but
Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarledt oak,
Than the soft myrtle:
-0, but man, proud man!
Drest in a little brief authority;
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
His glassy essence,-like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastick tricks before high heaven,
As make the angels weep : who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.
Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent; He's coming, I perceive't. Prod.
· Pray heaven, she win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saiuts: 'tis wit in them; But, in less, foul profanation.
Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl; more o' that.
Isab. That in the captain's but a cholerick word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Lucio. Art advis'do that? more on't.
Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me?
Isab. Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
That skins the vice o' the top: Go to your bosom;
Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth know
That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
A natural guiltiness, such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought upou your tongue
Agaiust my brother's life.
She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.-Fare
Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back.
Ang. I will bethink me:--Come again to-morrow.
Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my lord,
turu back. Ang. How! bribe me? Isa. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share
Lucio. You bad marr'd all else.
Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested* gold, Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor, As fancy values them: but with true prayers, That shall be up in heaven, and enter there,
• Attested, stamped.
† Preserved from the corruption of the world.