ISABELLA.
Some one with child by him? — My cousin Juliet?
LUCIO.
Is she your cousin?
ISABELLA.
Adoptedly, as school-maids change their names
By vain though apt affection.
LUCIO.
She it is.
ISABELLA.
O, let him marry her!
LUCIO.
This is the point.
The duke is very strangely gone from hence;
Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,
In hand, and hope of action: but we do learn
By those that know the very nerves of state,
His givings out 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 natural edge
With profits of the mind, study, and fast.
He, — to give fear to use and liberty,
Which have for long 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 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.
