Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you! They do you wrong to put you so oft upon't: are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it?

Elb. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all.

Escal. Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.

Elb. To your worship's house, sir?

Escal. To my house: fare you well.

What's o'clock, think you?

Just. Eleven, sir.

[Exit ELBOW.

Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me.
Just. I humbly thank you.

Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio; But there's no remedy.

Just. Lord Angelo is severe.

Escal.

It is but needful:

Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;

Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
But yet,-Poor Claudio!--There is 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 will relent. Alas,

He hath but as offended in a dream!
All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he
To die for't!-

Ang.

Enter ANGELO.

Now, what's the matter, provost' Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow?

Ang. Did not I tell thee, yea? hadst thou not order?

Why dost thou ask again?

Prov.

Under your good correction, I have seen,
When, after execution, judgment hath
Repented o'er his doom.

Ang.

Lest I might be too rash:

Go to; let that be mine:

I crave your honour's pardon.

Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you shall well be spared.

Prov.

What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour.

Ang.

Dispose of her

To some more fitter place; and that with speed.

Re-enter Servant.

Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd, Desires access to you.

Ang.

Hath he a sister?

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.

[Exit Servant.

See you, the fornicatress be removed;

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 welcome:

What's your will?

Isab. I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me.

Ang.

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.

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 faults, whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor.

Isab. O just, but severe law ! I had a brother then.-Heaven keep your honour!

[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:
To him, I say.

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 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?

Ang.

He's sentenced; 'tis too late. Lucio. [to ISAB.] You are too cold.

Isab. 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.

Ang. Pray you, be gone. 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. [aside.] Ay, touch him; there's the vein. Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words.

Isab. 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.

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

He's not prepared for death! Even for our kitchen's

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 you:

Who is it that hath died for this offence?

There's many have committed it.

Lucio. [aside.]

Ay, well said.

Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:

Those many had not dared to do that evil,
If the first 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-conceived,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born)
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But, where they live, to end.

Isab.

Yet show some pity. Ang. I show it most of all, when I show jus

tice;

For then I pity those I do not know,

Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;

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