Pardon is still the nurse of second woe: But yet,—poor Claudio !—There's no remedy.— Come, sir. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another room in the same. Enter Provost and a Servant. Serv. He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight: I'll tell him of you. Prov. Pray you, do. [Exit Servant.] I'll know His pleasure; may be he'll relent. Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream !(41) All sects,(42) all ages smack of this vice; and he To die for it! Ang. Enter ANGELO. Now, what's the matter, provost ? Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again? Prov. Lest I might be too rash: Under your good correction, I have seen, Repented o'er his doom. Ang. Do you your office, or give up your place, Go to; let that be mine: I crave your honour's pardon. And you shall well be spar'd. Prov. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? To some more fitter place; and that with speed. Re-enter Servant. Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd Prov. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already. Ang. 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. [Exit Servant. [Offering to retire. Ang. Stay a little while.-[To. Isab.] You're welcome : what's your will? Isab. I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me. Ang. Well; what's Isab. There is a vice that most I do abhor, Ang. 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. Prov. [aside] 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 fine the fault,(44) whose fine stands in record, Isab. O just but severe law! I had a brother, then.-Heaven keep your honour! !(43) [Retiring. Lucio. [aside to Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown: You are too cold; if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: Isab. Must he needs die? Ang. 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. Isab. But can you, if you would? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. Isab. But you might do't, (45) and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse As mine is to him. Ang. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. [aside to Isab.] You are too cold. Isab. Too late! why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back(46) again. Well, believe this, No ceremony that to great ones longs, Not the king's crown nor the deputed sword, If he had been as you, and you as he, You would have slipp'd like him; but he, like you, Pray you, Ang. And what a prisoner. Lucio. [aside to Isab.] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. And you but waste your words. How would Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once; Ang. Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him :-he must die to-morrow. Isab. To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him! He's not prepar❜d for death. Even for our kitchens To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you; There's many have committed it. Lucio. [aside to Isab.] Ay, well said. Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept: Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, If that the first that did th' edíct infringe(49) 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 new, or by remissness new-conceiv'd, And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,— Are now to have no súccessive degrees, But, ere they live, to end.(50) Isab. 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 sentence, And he that suffers. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous (51). To use it like a giant. Lucio. [aside to Isab.] 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 thunder.— Merciful Heaven! Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, (52) 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 fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Lucio. [aside to Isab.] O, to him, to him, wench! he will relent; He's coming; I perceive't. Prov. [aside] Prav heaven she win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:(58) Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them, But in the less foul profanation. Lucio. [aside to Isab.] Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o' that. Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. Lucio. [aside to Isab.] Art avis'd o' that? more on't. That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom ; Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Ang. [aside] She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with't.-Fare you well. Ang. I will bethink me: come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back. Isab. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. Ang. Well; come to me to-morrow. |