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ANGELO.

Did not I tell thee yea? Hadst thou not order?

Why dost thou ask again?

PROVOST.

Lest I might be too rash;

Under your good correction, I have seen

When, after execution, judgment hath

Repented o'er his doom.

ANGELO.

Go to; let that be mine.

Do you your office, or give up your place,

And you shall well be spar'd.

PROVOST.

I crave your honour's pardon.

What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?

She's very near her hour.

ANGELO.

Dispose of her

To some more fitter place, and that with speed.

Re-enter SERVANT

SERVANT.

Here is the sister of the man condemn'd

Desires access to you.

ANGELO.

Hath he a sister?

PROVOST.

Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,

And to be shortly of a sisterhood,

If not already.

ANGELO.

Well, let her be admitted. Exit SERVANT

See you the fornicatress be remov'd;

Let her have needful but not lavish means;

There shall be order for't.

Enter Lucio and ISABELLA

PROVOST.

[Going] Save your honour!

ANGELO.

Stay a little while. [To ISABELLA] Y'are welcome;

what's your will?

ISABELLA.

I am a woeful suitor to your honour,

Please but your honour hear me.

ANGELO.

Well; what's your suit?

ISABELLA.

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.

ANGELO.

Well; the matter?

ISABELLA.

I have a brother is condemn'd to die;

I do beseech you, let it be his fault,

And not my brother.

PROVOST.

[Aside] Heaven give thee moving graces.

ANGELO.

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 faults whose fine stands in record,

And let go by the actor.

ISABELLA.

O just but severe law!

I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour!

LUCIO.

[To ISABELLA] 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.

To him, I say.

ISABELLA.

Must he needs die?

ANGELO.

Maiden, no remedy.

ISABELLA.

Yes; I do think that you might pardon him.

And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.

ANGELO.

I will not do't.

ISABELLA.

But can you, if you would?

ANGELO.

Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.

ISABELLA.

But might you do't, and do the world no wrong,

If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse

As mine is to him?

ANGELO.

He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late.

LUCIO.

[To ISABELLA] You are too cold.

ISABELLA.

Too late? Why, no; I, that do speak a word,

May call it back again. Well, believe 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 slipp'd like him; but he, like you,

Would not have been so stern.

ANGELO.

Pray you be gone.

ISABELLA.

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.

[To ISABELLA] Ay, touch him; there's the vein.

ANGELO.

Your brother is a forfeit of the law,

And you but waste your words.

ISABELLA.

Alas! Alas!

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 judgment, should

But judge you as you are? O, think on that;

And mercy then will breathe within your lips,

Like man new made.

ANGELO.

Be you content, fair maid.

It is the law, not I condemn your brother.

Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

It should be thus with him. He must die to-morrow.

ISABELLA.

To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him.

He's not prepar'd for death. Even for our kitchens

We kill the fowl of season; shall we