ANGELO. I show it most of all when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know, Which a dismissed offence would after gall, And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your brother dies tomorrow; be content. ISABELLA. 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 To use it like a giant. LUCIO. That’s well said. ISABELLA. 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 Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man, Dressed in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he’s most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. LUCIO. O, to him, to him, wench! He will relent; He’s coming. I perceive ’t. PROVOST. Pray heaven she win him. ISABELLA. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself. Great men may jest with saints; ’tis wit in them, But in the less, foul profanation. LUCIO. Thou’rt i’ th’ right, girl; more o’ that. ISABELLA. That in the captain’s but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. LUCIO. Art advised o’ that? More on’t. ANGELO. Why do you put these sayings upon me? ISABELLA. Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself That skins the vice o’ th’ top. Go to your bosom, Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That’s like my brother’s fault. If it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother’s life. ANGELO. She speaks, and ’tis such sense That my sense breeds with it. [_Going_.] Fare you well. ISABELLA. Gentle my lord, turn back. ANGELO. I will bethink me. Come again tomorrow. ISABELLA. Hark how I’ll bribe you. Good my lord, turn back. ANGELO. How? Bribe me? ISABELLA. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. LUCIO. You had marred all else. ISABELLA. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor As fancy values them, but with true prayers, That shall be up at heaven and enter there Ere sunrise, prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. ANGELO. Well; come to me tomorrow. LUCIO. [_Aside to Isabella_.] Go to, ’tis well; away. ISABELLA. Heaven keep your honour safe. ANGELO. [_Aside_.] Amen. For I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. ISABELLA. At what hour tomorrow Shall I attend your lordship? ANGELO. At any time ’fore noon. ISABELLA. Save your honour. [_Exeunt Isabella, Lucio and Provost._]