Yet hear them.

[Exeunt Duke and Provost

Claud. Now, fifter, what's the comfort?

Ifab. Why, as all comforts are: moft good indeed: Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,

Intends you for his fwift embaffador,
Where you fhall be an everlasting leiger:
Therefore your best appointment make with speed:
To-morrow you fet on.

Claud. Is there no remedy?

Ifab. None, but fuch remedy, as, to fave a head, To cleave a heart in twain.

Claud. But is there any?

fab. Yes, brother, you may live;
There is a devilifh mercy in the judge,
If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death.
Claud, Perpetual durance?

Ifab. Ay, juft, perpetual durance; a restraint,
Though all the world's vaftidity you had,
To a determin'd scope.

Claud. But in what nature?

Ifab. In fuch a one as (you confenting to't) Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked.

Claud. Let me know the point.

Ifab. Oh, I do fear thee, Claudio : and I quake,
Left thou a feverous life fhould'st entertain,
And fix or feven winters more refpect

Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die?
The fenfe of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal fufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

Claud. Why give you me this fhame?

Think you I can a refolution fetch

From flowery tenderness; if I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,

And hug it in mine arms.

Ifab. There fpake my brother! there my father's

grave.

Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die:
Thou art too noble to conferve a life

In bafe appliances. This outward-fainted deputy--
Whofe fettled vifage and deliberate word
Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew,
As faulcon doth the fowl-is yet a devil;
His filth within being caft, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.

Claud. The princely Angelo?

Ifab. Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'ft body to invest and cover In princely guards! Doft thou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my virginity,

Thou might'ft be freed?

Claud. Oh, heavens! it cannot be.

Ifab. Yes, he would give it thee, for this rank ofSo to offend him ftill: This night's the time [fence, That I fhould do what I abhor to name,

Or elfe thou dy't to-morrow.

Claud. Thou fhalt not do't.
Ifab. Oh, were it but my life,

I'd throw it down for your

As frankly as a pin.

deliverance

Claud. Thanks, dear Ifabel.

Ifab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-mor Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him,

[row.

That thus can make him bite the law by the nofe? When he would force it, fure it is no fin;

Or

Or of the deadly feven it is the least.

Ifab. Which is the leaft?

Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise,
Why would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fin'd? Oh, Ifabel!

Ifab. What fays my brother?
Claud. Death is a fearful thing.
Ifab. And fhamed life a hateful.

Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This fenfible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to refide
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendant world; or to be worse than worst
Of thofe, that lawless and incertain thoughts,
Imagine howling!-'tis too horrible!

The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ach, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise

To what we fear of death.

Ifab. Alas! alas!

Claud. Sweet fifter, let me live:
What fin you do to fave a brother's life,
Nature difpenfes with the deed fo far,
That it becomes a virtue.

Ifab. Ch, you beaft!

Oh, faithlefs coward! Oh, difhoneft wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
Is't not a kind of incest, to take life
From thine own fifter's fhame? What should I think?
Heaven fhield, my mother play'd my father fair!

For

For fuch a warped flip of wilderness

Ne'er iffu'd from his blood. Take my defiance:
Die! perifh! might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it fhould proceed:
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
No word to fave thee.

Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
Ifab. Oh, fie, fie, fie!

Thy fin's not accidental, but a trade:
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:
'Tis beft that thou dy't quickly.

Claud. Oh, hear me, Isabella.

Re-enter Duke.

Duke. Vouchfafe a word, young fifter, but one Ifab. What is your will?

[word. Duke. Might you difpenfe with your leisure, I would by and by have fome fpeech with you: the fatisfaction I would require, is likewise your own benefit.

Ifab. I have no fuperfluous leifure; my stay must be ftolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you a while.

Duke. [To CLAUDIO afide.] Son, I have overheard what hath past between you and your fifter. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an affay of her virtue, to practife his judgment with the difpofition of natures: the, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial, which he is most glad to receive: I am confeffor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not fatisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: to-morrow you muft die; go to your knees, and make ready.

C!

Claud. Let me afk my fifter pardon. I am fo out of love with life that I will fue to be rid of it. [Exit CLAUD. Re-enter Provoft

Duke. Hold you there; farewell.

word with you.

Prov. What's your will, father?

Provost, a

Duke. That now you are come, you will be gone: Leave me a while with the maid; my mind promises with my habit, no lofs fhall touch her by my company.

Prov. In good time.

[Exit Prov Duke. The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the goodness, that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness: but grace, being the foul of your complexion, fhould keep the body of it ever fair. The affault, that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo: How would you do to content this fubftitute, and to fave your brother?

Jab. 1 am now going to refolve him: I had rather my brother die by the law, than my fon fhould be unlawfully born. But oh, how much is the good duke deceiv'd in Angelo! if ever he returns, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government.

Duke. That ihall not be much amifs: yet, as the matter now ftands, he, will avoid your accufation; he made trial of you only.-Therefore faften your ear on my advisings; to the love I have in doing good, a remedy prefents itfelf. I do make myself believe, that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited be