Ang. Now, what's the matter Prouost? Pro. Is it your will Claudio shall die to morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why do'st thou aske againe? Pro. Lest I might be too rash: Vnder your good correction I haue seene When after execution, Iudgement hath Repented ore his doome Ang. Goe to; let that be mine, Doe you your office, or giue vp your Place, And you shall well be spar'd Pro. I craue your Honours pardon: What shall be done Sir, with the groaning Iuliet? Shee's very neere her howre Ang. Dispose of her To some more fitter place; and that with speed Ser. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd, Desires accesse to you Ang. Hath he a Sister? Pro. I my good Lord, a very vertuous maid, And to be shortlie of a Sister-hood, If not alreadie Ang. Well: let her be admitted, See you the Fornicatresse be remou'd, Let her haue needfull, but not lauish meanes, There shall be order for't. Enter Lucio and Isabella. Pro. 'Saue your Honour Ang. Stay a little while: y'are welcome: what's your will? Isab. I am a wofull Sutor to your Honour, 'Please but your Honor heare me Ang. Well: what's your suite Isab. There is a vice that most I doe abhorre, And most desire should meet the blow of Iustice; For which I would not plead, but that I must, For which I must not plead, but that I am At warre, twixt will, and will not Ang. Well: the matter? Isab. I haue a brother is condemn'd to die, I doe beseech you let it be his fault, And not my brother Pro. Heauen giue thee mouing graces Ang. Condemne the fault, and not the actor of it, Why euery fault's condemnd ere it be done: Mine were the verie Cipher of a Function To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record, And let goe by the Actor Isab. Oh iust, but seuere Law: I had a brother then; heauen keepe your honour Luc. Giue't not ore so: to him againe, entreat him, Kneele downe before him, hang vpon his gowne, 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 remedie Isab. Yes: I doe thinke that you might pardon him, And neither heauen, nor man grieue at the mercy Ang. I will not doe't Isab. But can you if you would? Ang. Looke what I will not, that I cannot doe Isab. But might you doe't & do the world no wrong If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse, As mine is to him? Ang. Hee's sentenc'd, tis too late Luc. You are too cold Isab. Too late? why no: I that doe speak a word May call it againe: well, beleeue this No ceremony that to great ones longs, Not the Kings Crowne; nor the deputed sword, The Marshalls Truncheon, nor the Iudges Robe Become them with one halfe so good a grace As mercie does: If he had bin as you, and you as he, You would haue slipt like him, but he like you Would not haue beene so sterne Ang. Pray you be gone