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Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
Ifab. Sir, believe this,
Ang. I talk not of your soul; our compelld fins Stand more for number than account.
Ijab. How fay you?
Ang. Nay, l'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Ifab. Please you to do't,
Ang. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your soul,
Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be fin,
Ang. Nay, but hear me :
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 thefe black masks Proclaim an en-shield beauty ten times louder, Than beauty could display'd. But mark me, To be received plain, I'll speak more gross; Your brother is to die.
Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears
Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,
Ang. Then must your brother die.
Isab. And ’twere the cheaper way, Better it were, a brother dy'd at once, Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever.
Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence, That you have flander'd so ?
Ifab. As ignominious ransom, and free pardon,
Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant,
Ijab. Oh pardon me, my Lord; it oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
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 fail too.
Ifab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves, Which are as easy broke, as they make forms. Women ! help heav'n; men their creation mar, In profiting by them : nay, call us ten times frail; For we are foft 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're 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're more, you're none. If
you be one, as you are well express'd By all external warrants, shew it now, By putting on the destin'd livery.
Ijab. I have no tongue but one ; gentle, my Lord, Let me intreat you, speak the formal * language.
Ang. Plainly conceive I love you.
Isab. My brother did love Juliet; And you
tell me that she shall die for it.
Ifab. I know your virtue hath a licence in't,
Ang. Believe me, on mine honour,
Ifa. Ha ! little honour to be much believ'd,
Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel?
shall stifle in your own report, And finell of calumny. I have begun; And now I give my fenfual
the rein. Fit thy consent to my tharp appetite, Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes, That banish what they fue for ; redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will : Or elie be must not only die the death, But thy unkindness ihall his death draw out To lig'ring fufferance.
Answer me to-morrow; Or by ih' ailection that now guides me moft, Joi, for fluix, dire,
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
A C T III. S CE N E I.
The prison. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. Duke. then you hope of pardon from Lord An
gelo? Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope : l’ve hop'd to live, and am prepar'd
to die. Duke. Be absolute for death; or death, or life, Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life; i If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing • That none but fools would reck; a breath thou art, • Servile to all the skiey influences, · That do this habitation, where thou keep'ít,
Hourly amict; merely thou art death's foolt;
* Approof here is to be taken in the sense of approbation.
+ In the fimplicity of the ancien: thews up; ( ur tage, it was pommon to bring in two figures, one representing a fool, ihe other dealle
· For him thou labour'st by thy flight to fhun, • And yet runn'st tow'rd him ftill. Thou art not noble; · For all th'accoinmodations, that thou bear'st, • Are nurs’d by bafeness: thou’rt by no means valiant; « For thou doit fear the soft and tender fork • Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, * And that thou oft provok'it; yet grossly fear'it
Thy death, which is no more. Thou’rt not thyself;
For thou exist'it 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’ft. Thou art not certain; • For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, • After the moon.
If thou art rich, thou’rt poor ; For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, • Thou bear’it thy heavy riches but a journey, • And death unloadeth thee. Friend thou hast none;
For thy own bowels, which do call thee fire, • 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 • But as it were an after-dinner's sleep,
[age; Dreaming on both; for pall'd, thy blazed youth • Becomes assuaged, and doth beg the alms • Of palsied Eld; and when thou’rt old and rich, • Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor bounty, • To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this « That bears the name of life? yet in this life • Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear, That makes there odds all even.
Claud. I humbly thank you.
Prov. Who's there? come in the wilh deserves a
welcome. er fate. The turn and contrivance of the piece was to make the fool jay many stratageins to avoid death, which yet brought him more immedia ely into the jüri's of it.