To find the faults, whose fine stands in record, Isab. O just, but severe law! I had a brother, then. - Heaven keep your honor! [Retiring. Lucio [to Isabella.] 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: Isab. Must he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, 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 touched with that remorse As mine is to him? Ang. He's sentenced; 't is too late. Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isab. Isab. Too late! why, no; I, that do speak a word, No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Isab. I would to Heaven I had your potency, And what a prisoner. Lucio. [Aside.] Ay, touch him; there's the vein! Isab. Alas! alas! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; If He, which is the top of judgment, should Ang. Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother; It should be thus with him; he must die to-morrow. him! Spare him, spare He's not prepared for death! Even for our kitchens. To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you, 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 But, where they live, to end. Isab. Yet show some pity! Ang. I show it most of all when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know, Which a dismissed offense would after gall; And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your brother dies to-morrow; be content. Isab. So, you must be the first that gives the 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. Isab. Could great men thunder * This word has in modern times assumed the penultimate accent; but in reading Shakspeare it is but a slight compliment to the greatest of poets to submit to his authority, and accordingly the word should here be called edict. 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, Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle; - O, but man, proud man! Most ignorant of what he 's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench! he will relent; Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself; Great men may jest with saints: 't is wit in them; But, in the less, foul profanation. Lucio. Thou 'rt in the right, girl! more o' that. Isab. That in the captain 's but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. Lucio. Art advised o' that? more on't! Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me? That skims the vice o' the top: Go to your bosom ; A natural guiltiness, such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Ang. She speaks, and 't is Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare Ang. I will bethink me : Isab. you well. Come again to-morrow. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my lord, turn back! Ang. How! bribe me? Isab. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. Lucio. You had marred all else! Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor, |