Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoil'd name, th' 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 That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother Or else he must not only die the death, As for you, Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. [Exit Isab. To whom should I complain? Did I tell this Bidding the law make court'sy to their will, To such abhorr'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die : I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request, And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [ Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. — A Room in the Prison. Enter DUKE, as a Friar, CLAUDIO, and Provost. DUKE. O then, you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope. I've 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, That dost this habitation where thou keep'st Of a poor worm: thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get, For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, nor age, But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth. Of palsi'd eld; and when thou art old and rich, What's yet in this, I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find, I seek to die, And seeking death, find life: let it come on. Isab. [Without.] What, hoa! Peace here; grace and good company! Prov. Who's there? come in the wish deserves a welcome. Enter ISABELLA. Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio. Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior; here's your sister. Duke. Prov. Duke. Provost, a word with you. As many as you please. Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be conceal'd. [Exeunt DUKE and Provost. Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort? Isab. Why, as all comforts are; most good, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to Heaven, Intends you for his swift ambassador, Where you shall be an everlasting leiger: 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: There is a devilish mercy in the judge, 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 you naked. Claud. Let me know the point. Isab. O! I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, And six or seven winters more respect, 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: Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, His filth within being cast, he would appear Claud. The priestly Angelo? Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of Hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover In priestly guards! Dost thou think, Claudio! Thou might'st be freed. Claud. O, Heavens! it cannot be. Isab. Yes, he would give't 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. 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 th' 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? |