Supply me with the habit, and instruct me Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see, If power change purpose, what our seemers be. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. 1 nunnery. Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA. Isab. And have you nuns no further privileges? Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more; Who's that which calls? Fran. It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella, But in the presence of the prioress: Then, if you speak, you must not show your face; Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. He calls again; I pray you, answer him. Isab. Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls? Enter LUCIO. Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be,—as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me As bring me to the sight of Isabella, A novice of this place, and the fair sister To her unhappy brother Claudio? Isab. Why "her unhappy brother"? let me ask; The rather, for I now must make you know [Exit. I am that Isabella and his sister. Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you: Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. Isab. Woe me! for what? Lucio. For that which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks: He hath got his friend with child. Isab. Sir, make me not your scorn. Lucio. 'Tis true. (28) I would not-though 'tis my familiar sin As with a saint. Isab. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. As those that feed grow full; as blossoming-time, Isab. Some one with child by him?-My cousin Juliet ? Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names This is the point. Lucio. In hand, and hope of action: but we do learn 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. Which have for long run by the hideous law, Lucio. 'Has censur'd him Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution. Isab. Alas, what poor ability's in me To do him good! Lucio. Assay the power you have. Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win As they themselves would owe them. Lucio. But speedily. Isab. I will about it straight; No longer staying but to give the mother my success. Lucio. I take my leave of you. Good sir, adieu. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. A hall in ANGELO's house. Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, and a Justice; Provost, Officers, and others attending. Ang. We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror. Escal. Ay, but yet Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman, Let but your honour know, Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue, That, in the working of your own affections, Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two For I have had such faults; but rather tell me, Ang. Where is the provost? Prov. [coming from behind] Here, if it like your honour. Be executed by nine to-morrow morning: Escal. [aside] Well, heaven forgive him! all! See that Claudio [Exit Provost. and forgive us Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall; Enter ELBOW, and Officers with FROTH and POMPEY. Ell. Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them away. Ang. How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter? Elb. If it please your honour, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors. Ang. Benefactors! Well; what benefactors are they? are they not malefactors? Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are but precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have. Escal. This comes off well; here's a wise officer. Ang. Go to what quality are they of? Elbow is your name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow? Pom. He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow. Ang. What are you, sir? Elb. He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too. Escal. How know you that? Elb. My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour, |