O heavens!
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making both it unable for itself
And dispossessing all the other parts
Of necessary fitness?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air
By which he should revive: and even so
The general, subject to a well-wished king
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.

[Enter ISABELLA.]

How now, fair maid?

ISABELLA.
I am come to know your pleasure.

ANGELO.
That you might know it, would much better please me
Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.

ISABELLA.
Even so?--Heaven keep your honour!

[Retiring.]

ANGELO.