In profiting by them: nay, call us ten times frail ; Ang. I think it well; And from this teftimony of your own fex, Ijab. I have no tongue but one; gentle my lord, you. Ifab. My brother did love Juliet; And you tell me that he shall die for it. Ang. He fhall not, Ifabel, if you give me love. Ifab. I know your virtue hath a licence in't, Which feems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Ang. Believe me on mine honour, My words exprefs my purpose. Ifab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, And moft pernicious purpofe! feeming, feeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't': Sign me a prefent pardon for my brother, Or with an out-ftretch'd throat I'll tell the world Aloud what man thou art. Ang. Who will believe thee, Ifabel? My unfoil'd name, th' auftereness of my life, That you fhall ftifle in your own report, Or elfe he must not only die the death, I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can, my falfe o'erweighs your true. [Exit. Bidding the law make curtfie to their will, Then, Ifabel, live chafte, and, brother, die; And fit his mind to death for his foul's reft. Duke. ACT III. SCENE I. The PRISON. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. [Exit. O, then you hope for pardon from lord Angelo? But only hope I've hope to live, and am Duke. Be abfolute for death; or death or life A thing that none but fools would keep, a breath That do this habitation where thou keep'ft Approof here is to be taken in the sense of Approbation. Hourly Hourly afflict: meerly thou art death's fool *; And yet runn'ft tow'rd him ftill. Thou art not noble Of a poor worm. Thy beft of reft is fleep, Thou'rt not thyself; For thou exift'ft on many a thousand grains And what thou haft, forgett'ft. Thou art not certain ; After the moon. Though thou art rich, thou'rt poor; For like an afs, whofe back with ingots bows, Thou bear'ft thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloadeth thee. Friend haft thou none The meer effufion of thy proper loins, Do curfe the Gout, Serpigo, and the Rheum, For ending thee no fooner. Thou haft nor youth, nor age; But as it were an after-dinner's fleep, Dreaming on both; for all thy bleffed youth Becomes an indigent, and doth beg the alms Thou haft neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty Claud. I humbly thank you. To fue to live, I find I feek to die, And seeking death, find life: let it come on. Ifab. What, ho? peace here, grace and good company! In the fimplicity of the ancient fhews upon our ftage it was common to bring in two figures, one reprefenting a Fool, the other Death or Fate: The turn and contrivance of the piece was to make the Fool lay many ftratagems to avoid Death, which yet brought him more immediately into the jaws of it, Prov. Who's there? come in: the wifh deferves a welcome. Duke. Dear Sir, `ere long I'll vifit you again. Claud. Moft holy Sir, I thank you. Ifab. My bufinefs is a word or two with Claudio. Prov. As many as you please. Duke. Bring them to speak where I may be conceal'd, Yet hear them, [Exeunt Duke and Provost. SCENE II. Claud. Now, good fifter, what's the comfort? Ifab. Why, as all comforts are; moft good in speed: Lord Angelo having affairs to heav'n, Intends you for his fwift embaffador; Where you fhall be an everlasting leiger. Therefore your best appointment make with speed, Claud. Is there no remedy? Ifab. None, but fuch remedy, as, to fave a head, Muft cleave a heart in twain. Claud. But is there any? Ifab. Yes, brother, you may live: If you'll implore it, that will free your life, Claud. Perpetual durance? Ifab. Ay, juft; perpetual durance, a restraint, Tho' all the world's vaftidity you had, To a determin'd fcope. Claud. But in what nature? Ifab. In fuch a one, as, your confenting to't, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked. Claud. Let me know the point, Ifab. Oh, I do fear thee, Claudio, and I quake, Left thou a fev'rous life fhouldft entertain, And fix or feven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'ft thou die? VOL. II. In In corp'ral fufferance finds a pang as great, Claud. Why give you me this fhame ? Ifab. There fpake my brother; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou muft die: Thou art too noble to conferve a life In bafe appliance. This outward-fainted Deputy, Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth emmew His filth within being caft he would appear Claud. The priestly Angelo? Ifab. Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, In prieftly guards. Doft thou think, Claudio? Thou might'ft be freed. Claud. Oh heav'ns! it cannot be. Ifab. Yes, he would grant thee, for this rank offence, So to offend him ftill. This night's the time That I fhould do what I abhor to name, Or elfe thou dy't to-morrow. Claud. Thou shalt not do't. Ifab. Oh, were it but my life, Claud. Thanks, dearest Ifabel. Ifab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow, That thus can make him bite the law by th' nofe, Ifab. Which is the leaft? Člaud. If it were damnable, he being fo wife, Why, would he for the momentary trick Be |