To such abhor'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I-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, 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, That do'st this habitation, where thou keep'st, 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 nursed 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 thou 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; For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum, For ending thee no sooner : Thou hast nor youth, nor age; But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both for all thy blessed youth Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich, Claud. I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find, I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: Let it come on. Enter ISABELLA. Isab. What, ho! Peace here; grace and good com pany! Prov. Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome. Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you. Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio. Prov. And very welcome.-Look, signior, here's your sister. Duke. Provost, a word with you. Prov. As many as you please. Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be conceal'd, Yet hear them. [Exeunt Duke and Provost. Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort? Isab. Why, as all comforts are; 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; 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; 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, 3 And six or seven winters more respect Claud. Why give you me this shame ? 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 In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,- As falcon doth the fowl,-is yet a devil; His filth within being cast, he would appear Claud. The princely Angelo? Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, In princely guards! Dost thou think, Claudio, 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. Thou shalt not do't. |