Ifab. O juft, but fevere Law: I had a Brother then; Heav'n keep your Honour. Ifab. Muft he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no Remedy. Ifab. Yes; I do think that you may pardon him, And neither Heav'n nor Man grieve at the Mercy. Ang. I will not do't. Ifab. But can you if you would? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. *Ifab. But might you do't, and do the World no Wrong, If fo your Heart were touch'd with that Remorse, As mine is to him? Ang. He's fentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. Ifab. Too late? why fo? I that do speak a Word, Not the King's Crown, nor the deputed Sword, As Mercy does: If he had been as you, and you as he, Ang. Pray you be gone. Ifab. I would to Heav'n I had your Potency, And you were Ifabel; fhould it then be thus? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a Judge, And what a Prifoner. Lucio. Ay, touch him; there's the Vein. Ifab. Alas! alas! Why, all the Souls that were, were Forfeit once; But But judge you as you are? Oh, think on that, Ang. Be you content, fair Maid, It is the Law, not I, condemns your Brother. It should be thus with him; he muft die to Morrow. Spare him, fpare him; He's not prepar'd for Death: Even for our Kitchins To our grofs felves? Good, good my Lord, bethink you : There's many have committed it. Lucio. Ay, well faid. Ang. The Law hath not been dead, tho' it hath flept: Thofe many had not dar'd to do that Evil, If the firft, that did th' Edi& infringe, Had anfwer'd for his Deed. Now 'tis awake Ifab. Yet fhew fome Pity, Ang. I fhew it most of all when I fhew Justice; For then I pity thofe I do not know, Which a dismiss'd Offence would after gaul; And do him Right, that anfwering one foul Wrong, Lives not to act another. Be fatisfied; Your Brother dies to Morrow; be content. Ifab. So you must be the firft that gives this Sentence, And he that fuffers : Oh, it is excellent To have a Giant's Strength; but it is tyrannous Lucio. That's well faid. Ifab. Could great Men thunder As Jove himfelf does, Jove would ne'er be quiet; Would Would use his Heav'n for Thunder; Than the foft Mirtle: O but Man! proud Man! Moft ignorant of what he's moft affur'd, Plays fuch fantastick Tricks before high Heav'n, Lucio. Oh, to him, to him Wench; he will relent; Pov. Pray Heaven fhe win him,' Ifab. We cannot weigh our Brother with our felf: Great Men may jeft with Saints; 'tis Wit in them, But in the lefs foul Prophanation. Lucio. Thou'rt i'right, Girl; more o'that. Ifab. That in the Captain's but a cholerick Word, Which in the Soldier is flat Blafphemy. Lucio. Art advis'd o'that? More on't. Ang. Why do you put thefe Sayings upon me? That skins the Vice o'th' top: Go to your Bofom, A natural Guiltiness, fuch as is his, Let it not found a Thought upon your Tongue Ang. She fpeaks, and 'tis fuch Senfe, That my Senfe breeds with it. Fare you well. Ifab. Gentle, my Lord, turn back. Ang. I will bethink me: Come again to Morrow. Ifab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good myLord turn back. Ang. How? Bribe me? Jab. Ay, with fuch Gifts that Heav'n fhall share with you. Ifab. Not with fond Sickles of the tefted Gold, That That shall be up at Heav'n, and enter there Ang. Well; come to me to Morrow, For I am that way going to Temptation, Ifab. At what Hour to Morrow Shall I attend your Lordship? Ifab. Save your Honour. Exeunt Lucio and Ifabella. Ang. From thee; even from thy Virtue. What's this? What's this? Is this her Fault, or mine? And pitch our Evils there? Oh fie, fie, fie; And feast upon her Eyes? What is it I dream on? To Sin, in loving Virtue; never could the Strumpet, When Men were fond, I fmil'd, and wondred how. [Exit. SCENE SCENE III. A Prifon. Enter Duke habited like a Friar, and Provost. Duke. Hail to you, Provoft; fo I think you are. Here in the Prifon; do me the common Right Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful. Look here comes one; a Gentlewoman of mine, Duke. When muft he die? Prov. As I do think, to Morrow. I have provided for you; ftay a while, And you fhall be conducted. Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the Sin you carry. Duke. I'll teach you how you fhall arraign your Confcience, And try your Penitence, if it be found, Or hollowly put on. Juliet. I'll gladly learn. Duke. Love you the Man that wrong'd you? Juliet. Yes, as I love the Woman that wrong'd him. Duke. So then it seems your moft offenceful A& Was mutually committed. Juliet. Mutually. Duke. Then was your Sin of heavier kind than his? Duke. 'Tis meet fo, Daughter; but left you do repent As that the Sin hath brought you to this Shame, Which |