Isab.
And have you nuns no farther privileges?

Fran.
Are not these large enough?

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

Lucio [within].
Ho! Peace be in this place!

Isab.
Who's that which calls?

Fran.
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 show your face;
Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.
He calls again; I pray you, answer him. [Exit.

Isab.
Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls? Enter Lucio.

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.
Woe me! for what?

Lucio.
For that which ^note, 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 ^note.

Lucio.
It is true ^note.
I would not ^note—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;
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 ^note embraced:
As those that feed grow full,—as blossoming time,
That from the seedness ^note the bare fallow brings ^note
To teeming foison,—even so her plenteous womb
Expresseth his ^note full tilth and husbandry.

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, though apt, affection.

Lucio.
She it is.

Isab.
O, let him ^note marry her.

Lucio.
This is the point.
The duke is ^note very strangely gone from hence;
Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,
In hand, and ^note hope of action: but we do ^note learn

By those that know the very nerves of state,
His givings-out ^note were of an infinite distance
From his true-meant design. Upon his place,
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 ^note natural edge
With profits of the mind, study and fast.
He—to give fear to use and liberty,
Which have for long ^note run by the hideous law,
As mice by lions—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 rigour of the statute,
To make him an example. All hope is ^note gone,
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of ^note business
'Twixt ^note you and your poor brother.

Isab.
Doth he so seek ^note his life?

Lucio.
Has ^note censured him
Already; and, as ^note I hear, the provost hath
A warrant for his ^note execution.

Isab.
Alas! what poor ability's in me ^note
To do him good?

Lucio.
Assay the power you have.

Isab.
My power? Alas, I doubt,—

Lucio.
Our doubts are traitors,
And make ^note 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 freely ^note theirs
As they themselves would owe them.

Isab.
I'll see what I can do.

Lucio.
But speedily.

Isab.
I will about it straight;
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.

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