THE BROTHER AND SISTER. CLAUDIO. Now, sister, what's the comfort ? ISABELLA. Why, as all comforts are; most good in deed: Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, Where you shall be an everlasting lieger: Therefore your best appointment make with speed; To-morrow you set on. CLAUD. Is there no remedy? ISAB. None, but such remedy, as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain. CLAUD. But is there any? ISAB. Yes, brother, you may live; If you'll implore it, that will free your life, CLAUD. Perpetual durance? ISAB. Ay, just, perpetual durance; a restraint, Though all the world's vastidity you had, To a determin'd scope. CLAUD. But in what nature? ISAB. In such a one as (you consenting to't) Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave CLAUD. you naked. Let me know the point. ISAB. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, 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. ISAB. There spake my brother; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die: This outward-sainted de Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. puty, Whose settled visage and deliberate word His filth within being cast, he would appear 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 Or else thou diest to-morrow. CLAUD. Thou shalt not do't. ISAB. O, were it but my life, 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; 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! 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 The weariest and most loathed worldly life, To what we fear of death. ISAB. Alas! alas! CLAUD. Sweet sister, let me live: What sin you do to save a brother's life, ISAB. O, you beast! O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch! From thine own sister's shame? What should I think? Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair! Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance: CLAUD. Nay, hear me, Isabel. Thy sin's not accidental, O, fye, fye, fye! 'Tis best that thou diest quickly. MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. 3, s. 1. THE BROTHER SINGLE, AND THE BROTHER MARRIED. HECTOR. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost The holding. TROILUS. What is aught, but as 'tis valued? HECT. But value dwells not in particular will: It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry, To make the service greater than the god; Without some image of the affected merit. election TRO. I take to-day a wife, and my Is led on in the conduct of my will; My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears, Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores Of will and judgment: How may I avoid, Although my will distaste what it elected, The wife I chose? there can be no evasion To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour: We turn not back the silks upon the merchant, When we have soil'd them: nor the remainder viands We do not throw in unrespective sieve, Because we now are full. It was thought meet, Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: Your breath with full consent bellied his sails; The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, And did him service: he touch'd the ports desir'd; And, for an old aunt, whom the Greeks held captive, He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and freshness Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morning. Why keep we her? the Grecians keep our aunt: Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl, Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships, And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants. If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went, And cried-Inestimable!) why do you now |