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.
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