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.

Isa. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me entreat you speak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

Isa. My brother did love Juliet;

That he shall die for it.

and you

tell me,

Ang, He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isa. I know, your virtue hath a license in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is,

To pluck on others.

Ang. Believe me, on mine honour,

My words express my purpose.

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

Sign me a present pardon for my brother,

Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

life,

Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel ?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my
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;
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance.-Answer me to-morrow,

Or, by the affection that now guides me most,

I'll prove a tyrant to him.

[Exit ANGELO. Isa. To whom should I complain? Did I tell

this,

Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof!

Bidding 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 fall'n by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her person stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.

I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,

And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest.

[Exit

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

The Prison.

Enter the DUKE, as a Friar, CLAUDIO, and PROVOST.

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

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

I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.

Duke. Be absolute for death; either death, or

life,

Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life,

If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing

That none but fools would keep a breath thou art,
Servile to all the skiey influences,

That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet runn'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 :

Happy thou art not;

For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;

And what thou hast, forget'st:

Thou hast nor youth, nor age;

But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,

Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms

Of palsy'd old; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
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 these odds all even.

Claud. I humbly thank you.

To sue to live, I find, I seek to die;

And, seeking death, find life: let it come on. Isa. [Without.] What, ho! peace here; grace and good company!

Prov. Who's there? Come in: the wish deserves a

welcome.

[Exit PROVOST. Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.

Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you.

Isa. [Without.] My business is a word or two with
Claudio.

Prov. [Without.] And very welcome.

Enter PROVOST, and ISABELLA.

Look, signior, here's your sister.
Duke. Provost, a word with you.

Bring me to hear them speak, where I
Conceal'd.

may be

[Exeunt the DUKE, and PROVOST.
Claud. Now, sister, what is the comfort?
Isa. Lord Angelo, having affairs to Heaven,
Intends you for his swift embassador,

Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:
Therefore your best appointment make with speed;
To-morrow you set on.

Claud. Is there no remedy?

Isa. None, but such remedy, as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain.

Claud. But is there any?

Isa. Yes, brother, you may live;
There is a devilish mercy in the judge,

If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death.

Claud. But in what nature?

Isa. In such a one as (you consenting to't,) Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked.

Claud. Let me know the point.

Isa. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die?
The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

Claud. Why give you me this shame ?

If I must die,

I will encounter darkness as a bride,

And hug it in my arms.

Isa. There spake my brother! there my father's

grave

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.
Claud. The priestly Angelo?

Isa. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'st body to invest and cover
In priestly guards!-Dost thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield to him my honour up,

Thou might'st be freed?

Claud. O, Heavens ! it cannot be.

Isa. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank of fence,

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. Thou shalt not do't.
Isa. O, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your
As frankly as a pin.

deliverance

Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel.

Isa. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.
Claud. O Isabel!-

Isa. What says my brother?

Claud. Death is a fearful thing.

Isa. 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