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 may be

Conceal'd.

[Exeunt the Duke, and Provost.

Claud. Now, sister, what is the comfort?

Isab. 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?

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,
But fetter you till death.

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
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.

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,
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?

Isab. O, 't is 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.

Isab. 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.
Isab. O, were it but my life,

I'd throw it down for

As frankly as a pin.

your

deliverance

Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel.

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

Isab. What says my brother?

Claud. 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
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in firy floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling!-'t is too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,

That age,
ach, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
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,
Nature dispenses with the deed so far,
That it becomes a virtue.

Isab. O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch ! Is 't not a kind of incest, to take life

From thine own sister's shame?

Take my defiance:

Die; perish! might but my bending down.
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
No word to save thee.

Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
Isab. O, fie, fie, fie!

Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade :
'Tis best that thou diest quickly.

Claud. O, hear me, Isabella.

Enter the Duke, as a Friar.

Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one

word.

Isab. What is your will?

Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own benefit.

Isab. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend while.

you a

Duke. Son, I have overheard what hath pass'd between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practise his judgement with the disposition of natures: She, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive: I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to

death: Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible; to-morrow you must die: go to your knees, and make ready.

Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.

Duke. Hold you there: Farewell.

Prov. What's your will, father?

[Exit CLAUDIO.

Duke. Leave me a while with the maid; my mind promises with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my company.

Prov. In good time.

[Exit Provost.

Duke. The hand that hath made you fair, hath made you good. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother?

Isab. I am now going to resolve him. But, O, how much is the good duke deceiv'd in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government.

Duke. That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made trial of you only.-Therefore, fasten your ear on my advisings; to the love I have in doing good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe, that you may most uprighteously do a poor wrong'd lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person; and much please the absent duke, if, peradventure, he shall ever return to have hearing of this business.

Isab. Let me hear you speak further; I have spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.

Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.

Have you not heard speak of Mariana the sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea? Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.

Duke. Her should this Angelo have married; was affianc'd to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wreck'd at sea, having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark, how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him her marriage dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.

Isab. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her?

Duke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of them with his comfort; swallow'd his vows whole, pretending, in her, discoveries of dishonour: in few, bestow'd her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is wash'd with them, but relents not.

İsab. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live!-But how out of this can she avail?

Duke. This fore-nam'd maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that, in all reason, should have quench'd her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point :-only refer yourself to this advantage,-first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience:-this being granted in course, now follows all. We shall advise this wrong'd maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compell him to her recompense: and here, by this, is your brother say'd, your honour un

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