Chapter 9 2. No.9

50 And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.

Ang. I will not do't.

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 touch'd with that remorse

As mine is to him.

55 Ang.

He's sentenced; 'tis too late.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] You are too cold.

Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,

May call it back again. Well, believe this,

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,

60 Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,

The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,

Become them with one half so good a grace

As mercy does.

If he had been as you, and you as he,

65 You would have slipt like him; but he, like you,

Would not have been so stern.

Ang.

Pray you, be gone.

Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency,

And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?

No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,

And what a prisoner.

70 Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Ay, touch him; there's the vein.

Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,

And you but waste your words.

Isab.

Alas, alas!

Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;

And He that might the vantage best have took