a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me! That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to; no more words. Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation. if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death. Good even, good father. Bliss and goodness on you! Of whence are you? Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time: I am a brother Of gracious order, late come from the See In special business from his holiness. What news abroad i' the world? None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accurst: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke? One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself. What pleasure was he given to? Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation. He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice: yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I by my good leisure have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed Justice. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding,