Elb. To your Worships house sir?
Esc. To my house: fare you well: what's a clocke,
thinke you?
Iust. Eleuen, Sir
Esc. I pray you home to dinner with me
Iust. I humbly thanke you
Esc. It grieues me for the death of Claudio
But there's no remedie:
Iust. Lord Angelo is seuere
Esc. It is but needfull.
Mercy is not it selfe, that oft lookes so,
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
But yet, poore Claudio; there is no remedie.
Come Sir.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Prouost, Seruant.
Ser. Hee's hearing of a Cause; he will come straight,
I'le tell him of you
Pro. 'Pray you doe; Ile know
His pleasure, may be he will relent; alas
He hath but as offended in a dreame,
All Sects, all Ages smack of this vice, and he
To die for't?