_Lucio._ For that which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks: He hath got his friend with child. _Isab._ Sir, make me not your story. _Lucio._ It is true. 30 I would not--though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, Tongue far from heart--play with all virgins so: I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted; By your renouncement, an immortal spirit; 35 And to be talk'd with in sincerity, As with a saint. _Isab._ You do blaspheme the good in mocking me. _Lucio._ Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus:-- Your brother and his lover have embraced: 40 As those that feed grow full,--as blossoming time, That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison,--even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry. _Isab._ Some one with child by him?--My cousin Juliet? 45 _Lucio._ Is she your cousin? _Isab._ Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names By vain, though apt, affection. _Lucio._ She it is. _Isab._ O, let him marry her. _Lucio._ This is the point. The duke is very strangely gone from hence; 50 Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand, and hope of action: but we do learn By those that know the very nerves of state, His givings-out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. Upon his place, 55 And with full line of his authority, Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood Is very snow-broth; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense, But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge 60 With profits of the mind, study and fast. He--to give fear to use and liberty, Which have for long run by the hideous law, As mice by lions--hath pick'd out an act, Under whose heavy sense your brother's life 65 Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it; And follows close the rigour of the statute, To make him an example. All hope is gone, Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of business 70 'Twixt you and your poor brother. _Isab._ Doth he so seek his life? _Lucio._ Has censured him Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution. _Isab._ Alas! what poor ability's in me 75 To do him good? _Lucio._ Assay the power you have. _Isab._ My power? Alas, I doubt,-- _Lucio._ Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo, And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, 80 Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, All their petitions are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them. _Isab._ I'll see what I can do.