Isab.
And have you nuns no farther privileges?

Nun.
Are not these large enough?

Isab.
Yes, truly: I speak not, as desiring more;
But rather wishing a more strict restraint,
Upon the sister-hood, the votarists of Saint Clare.

Lucio. [Within.]
Hoa! peace be in this place!

Isab.
Who's that, which calls?

Nun.
It is a man's voice: gentle Isabella,
Turn you the key, and know his business of him;
You may; I may not; you are yet unsworn:
When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men,
But in the presence of the Prioress;
Then, if you speak, you must not shew your face;
Or, if you shew your face, you must not speak.
He calls again; I pray you, answer him. [Exit Franc. Enter Lucio.† ^note

Lucio.
Hail, virgin, (if you be) as those cheek-roses
Proclaim you are no less; can you so stead me,
As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
A novice of this place, and the fair sister
To her unhappy brother Claudio?

Isab.
Why her unhappy brother? let me ask,
The rather, for I now must make you know
I am that Isabella, and his sister.

Lucio.
Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you;
Not to be weary with you, he's in prison.

Isab.
Wo me! for what?

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.
'Tis true:—I would not (tho' '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 en-sky'd, and sainted;
And to be talk'd with in sincerity,
As with a Saint.

Isab.
Some one with child by him?—my cousin Juliet!

Lucio.
Is she your cousin?

Isab.
Adoptedly, as school-maids change their names,
By vain, tho' 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;
Upon his place,
And with full line of his authority,
Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood
Is very snow-broth.
He hath pick'd out an act,
Under whose heavy sense your brother's life
Falls into forfeit; he arrests him on it;
And follows close the rigor of the statute,
To make him an example; all hope's gone,
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer,
To soften Angelo; and that's my pith of business,
'Twixt you and your poor brother.

Isab.
Doth he so
Seek for his life?

Lucio.
He 'as censur'd him, already;
And, as I hear, the Provost hath a warrant,
For's execution.

Isab.
Alas! what poor
Ability's in me, to do him good!

Lucio.
Assay the power you have.

Isab.
My power! Alas! I doubt.

Lucio.
Our doubts are traitors* ^note;
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,
Men give like Gods; but when they weep and kneel,
All their petitions are as truly theirs,
As they themselves would owe them.

Isab.
I'll see what I can do.

Lucio.
But, speedily.

Isab.
I will about it strait;
No longer staying, but to give the mother
Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you;
Commend me to my brother: soon at night,
I'll send him certain word of my success.

Lucio.
I take my leave of you.

Isab.
Good Sir, adieu. [Exeunt† ^note.

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