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To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words;
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name;

And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception: the state whereon I studied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form!
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,
'Tis not the devil's crest.

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Isab.
I am come to know your pleasure.
Ang. That you might know it, would much better
please me,

Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.
Isab. Even so?-Heaven keep your honour!
[Retiring.

Ang. Yet may he live a while; and, it may be, As long as you, or I yet he must die. Isab. Under your sentence? Ang. Yea.

Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted,

That his soul sicken not.

Ang. Ha! Fy, these filthy vices! It were as good
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen
A man already made, as to remit

Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image,
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in restrained means,
To make a false one.

Isab. "Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
Ang. Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, That the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness,
As she that he hath stain'd?
Isab.
Sir, believe this,

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I'll take it as a peril to my soul. It is no sin at all, but charity.

Please you to dot,

Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poize of sin and charity.

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answer. Ang. Nay, but hear me: Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant. Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good.

Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself: as those black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could displayed-But mark me; To be received plain, I'll speak more gross: Your brother is to die.

Isab. So.

Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain. Isab. True.

Ang. Admit no other way to save his life, (As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the loss of question,) that you, his sister, Finding yourself desir'd of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-binding law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else let him suffer; What would you do?

Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself: That is, were I under the terms of death, The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield My body up to shame.

Ang

Then must your brother de. Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way: Better it were, a brother died at once, Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sententi That you have slander'd so?

Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses: lawful mercy is Nothing a-kin to foul redemption.

Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant, And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice.

Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean: I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage, that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail.

Isab.

Else let my brother die. If not a feodary, but only he, Owe, and succeed by weakness. Ang. Nay, women are frail to Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them selves;

Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women!-Help heaven! men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are,

And credulous to false prints.
Ang.
I think it well:
And from this testimony of your own sex,
Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger
Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold ;—
I do arrest your words; be that you are,

That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;
If you be one, (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants,) show it now,
By putting on the destin'd livery.

Tab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me intreat you speak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.
Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and
That he shall die for it.

you tell

Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others.

Ang.

me,

Believe me, on mine honour,

My words express my purpose.
Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And most pernicious purpose --Seeming, seeming!
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:

me a present pardon for my brother, Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world Alood, what man thou art.

Ang.
Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
Will so your accusation overweigh,

That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun;
And now I give my sensual race the rein:
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes,

Tat banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will;

Or else he must not only die the death,

Bet thy unkindness shall his death draw out

To lingering sufferance: answer me to-morrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most, prove a tyrant to him as for you,

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Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.

[Exit.
Isab. To whom shall I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Ether of condemnation or approof!
Bedding the law make court'sy to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood,
Yet bath he in him such a mind of honour,
Teat had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.

Ten Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
More than our brother is our chastity.

I tell him yet of Angelo's request,

And it his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE L-A Room in the Prison.

Enter DUKE, CLAUDIO, and PROvost.

Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo?

Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, Bet only hope:

Irave hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.

Duke. Be absolute for death; either death, or life, Sall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with lifeIf I do lose thee, I do lose a thing

That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
ervile to all the skiey influences,)
That dost this habitation, where thon keep'st,
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;

For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet run'st toward him still: thou art not noble;
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st,
Are nurs'd by baseness: thou art by no means
valiant;

For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm: thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
For thon exist'st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust: happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get:
And what thou hast, forget'st: thou art not certain;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon: if thou art rich, thou art poor;
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
Thon bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee: friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,

Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner: thou hast nor youth, nor

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In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great

As when a giant dies.
Claud.

Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
From flowery tenderness? If I must die,

I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in mine arms.

[grave

Isab. There spake my brother; there my father's
Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die:
Thou art too noble to conserve a life

In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,-
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i'the head, and follies doth enmew,
As falcon doth the fowl,-is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.
Claud.

The princely Angelo?
Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'st body to invest and cover
In princely guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou might st be freed?
Claud
O, heavens! it cannot be.
Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank

offence,

So to offend him still: this night's the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,

Or else thou diest to-morrow.

Claud.

Isab. O, were it but my life,

Thou shalt not do't.

I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.

Claud.

Thanks, dear Isabel.

Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.
Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
When he would force it? Sure it is no sin;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.
Isab. Which is the least?

Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise,
Why, would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fin'd?-O Isabel!
Isab. What says my brother?
Claud

Death is a fearful thing.
Isab. And shamed life a hateful.
Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world, or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling-tis too horrible!

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Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one
Isab. What is your will?
[word.

Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own benefit.

Isab. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay most be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you a while.

Duke. (To Claudio, aside.) Son, I have overheard what hath past between you and your sister Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practise h judgment with the disposition of natures; she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gre cious denial, which he is most glad to receive: I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true. therefore prepare yourself to death: do not satishy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: to morrow you must die; go to your knees, and make ready.

Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it. Duke. Hold you there: farewell. [Exit Claudis Re-enter Provost.

Provost, a word with you.

Prov. What's your will, father?

Duke. That now you are come, you will be gone leave me awhile with the maid; my mind promises with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my company Prov. In good time. [Exit Provest

Duke. The hand that hath made you fair, hat made you good: the goodness, that is cheap beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body of it ever fair. The assault, that Angelo bath made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my unde standing; and, but that frailty hath examples for s falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How would you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother"

Isab. I am now going to resolve him: I had n ther my brother die by the law, than my son shoul be unlawfully born. But O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain. discover his government.

Duke. That shall not be much amiss: yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusatio be made trial of you only.-Therefore, fasten yo ear on my advisings; to the love I have in dang good, a remedy presents itself. I do make mysl believe, that you may most uprighteously do a pr wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your be ther from the angry law; do no stain to your ov Sweet sister, let me live: gracious person; and much please the absent duke

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

To what we fear of death.

Isab. Alas! alas!

Claud.

What sin you do to save a brother's life,
Nature dispenses with the deed so far,
That it becomes a virtue.

Isab.

O, you beast!

[think?

O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
Is't not a kind of incest, to take life
From thine own sister's shame? What should 1
Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness

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

Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
Isab.
O, fy, fy, fy!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade:

if, peradventure, he shall ever return to have hear ing of this busines.

Isab. Let me hear you speak further; I kass spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in tr truth of my spirit.

Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fr ful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sist of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried st sea?

Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good wore went with her name.

Duke. Her should this Angele have married; wa affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed between which time of the contract, and limit the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wreck at sea, having in that perish'd vessel the dowry his sister. But mark, how heavily this befel to th poor gentlewoman there she lost a noble and re

nowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. Isab. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? Duke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not.

Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this kte, that it will let this man live!-But how out of tas can she avail?

Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but ker ps you from dishonour in doing it.

Isab. Show me how, good father.

Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the <atinuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindtess, that in all reason should have quenched her Live, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point: only refer yourself to this advantage,-first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and ence in it, and the place answer to convenience: as being granted in course, now follows all. We al advise this wronged maid to stead up your pointment, go in your place; if the encounter knowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to Irr recompense: and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The ma.i will I frame, and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubless of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?

Isab. The image of it gives me content already; d. I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous per

Irction.

Dake. It lies much in your holding up: haste you speedily to Angelo; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to St. Luke's; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana: at that place call pon me; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be yukly.

Isb. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally. SCENE II.-The Street before the Prison. Eater Duke, as a Friar; to him ELBOW, Clown, and Officers.

Eb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that o will needs buy and sell men and women like easts, we shall have all the world drink brown and ate bastard.

Duke. O, heavens! what stuff is here!

Clo. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two usur, the merriest was put down, and the worser low'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him arm: and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too, to rify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands For the facing. [friar.

Elb. Come your way, sir.-Bless you, good father Duke. And you, good brother father: what fence hath this man made you, sir?

Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, r, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have ound upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we ave sent to the deputy.

Duke. Fy, sirrah'; a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou cansest to be done,

hat is thy means to live: do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back, rom such a filthy vice: say to thyself,rom their abominable and beastly touches

I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.
Caust thou believe thy living is a life,
So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend.
Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but
yet, sir, I would prove-
[for sin,
Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs
Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer,
Correction and instruction must both work,
Ere this rude beast will profit.

Elb. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster; if he be a whoremonger and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.

Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be, Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free! Enter LUCIO.

Elb. His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir. Clo. I spy comfort; I cry, bail: here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine.

Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the heels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting it clutch'd? What reply? Ha! What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain? Ha! What say'st thou, trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The trick of it?

Duke. Still thus, and thus! still worse!

Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still? Ha?

Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.

Lucio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it: it must be so ever your fresh whore, and your powder'd bawd: an unshunn'd consequence; it must be so art going to prison, Pompey?

Clo. Yes, faith, sir.

Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey: farewell: go; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? Or how?

Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd.

Lucio. Well, then imprison him: if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too: bawd-born.Farewell, good Pompey: commend me to the prison, Pompey you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.

[bail.

Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.-Bless you, friar.

Duke. And you.

Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha? Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. Clo. You will not bail me then, sir? Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now.abroad, friar? What news?

-What news

Elb. Come your ways, sir; come.
Lucio. Go, to kennel, Pompey, go.

[Exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers. What news, friar, of the duke?

Duke. I know none can you tell me of any? Lucio. Some say, he is with the emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?

Duke. I know not where but wheresoever, 1 wish him well.

Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence: he puts transgression to't.

Duke. He does well in't.

Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar.

Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.

Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say, this Angelo was not made by man and woman, after the downright way of creation: is it true, think you?

Duke. How should he be made, then?

Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him:Some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes: -But it is certain, that when he makes water, his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion ungenerative, that's infallible.

Duke. You are pleasant, sir; and speak apace. Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece, to take away the life of a man? Would the duke, that is absent, have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him

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Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier: therefore, you speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd in your malice.

Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him. Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love.

Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know. Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return, (as our prayers are he may,) let me desire you to make your answer before him: if it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call upon you; and, I pray you, your name? Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke.

Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you.

Lucio. I fear you not.

Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this again.

Lucio. I'll be hang'd first: thou art deceiv'd in me, friar. But no more of this: canst thou tell, if Claudio die to-morrow, or no?

yet would have dark deeds darkly answer'd; would never bring them to light: would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemn'd for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I pr'ythee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's now past it; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic: say, that I said so. Farewell. (Exit.

Duke. Why should he die, sir? Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again: this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke

Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes: what king so strong, Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?But who comes here?

Enter ESCALUS, Provost, Bawd, and Officers. Escal. Go, away with her to prison. Bawd. Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man; good my lord.

Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear, and play the tyrant.

Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may it please your honour.

Bawd. My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with child by him in the duke's time, he promised her marriage; his child is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me.

Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much license:let him be called before us.-Away with her to prison: go to; no more words. [Exeunt Bawd and Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnish'd with divines, and have all charitable pre paration; if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him.

Prov. So please yon, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death. Escal. Good even, good father.

Duke. Bliss and goodness on you!
Escal. Of whence are you?

Duke. 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.

Escal. What news abroad i' the world? Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must care 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 accurs'd: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This new is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke?

Escal. One, that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself.

Duke. What pleasure was he given to?

Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which profess'd 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.

Duke. He professes to have received no sinister measures 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.

Escal. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor gentleman, to the extremest shore of my modesty; but my brother justice

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