Under your good correction, I have seen, Ang. Go to; let that be mine: Do you your office, or give up your place, Prov. I crave your honor's pardon. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet ? Ang. Dispose of her To some more fitter place; and that with speed. Re-enter Servant. Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemned, 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 honor. [Offering to retire. Ang. Stay a little while.-[To Isab.] welcome: What's your will? Isab. I am a woful suitor to your honor; Please but your honor hear me. Ang. Well; what's your suit? You are Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor, Ang. Well; the matter? Isab. I have a brother is condemned to die : I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother.1 Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it! To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record, Isab. [Retiring. Lucio. [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. would? Isab. 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, 1 i. e. let my brother's fault die or be extirpated, but let not him suffer. And you as he, you would have slippped like him; Isab. I would to Heaven I had your potency, Lucio. Ay, touch him: there's the vein. Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words. Alas! alas! Isab. [Aside. Ang. 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 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 you: Who is it that hath died for this offence? There's many have committed it. Lucio. 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 man that did the edict infringe, Had answered for his deed: now, 'tis awake; 1 "You will then be as tender-hearted and merciful as the first man was in his days of innocence." |