Hooking both Right and Wrong to th' Appetite,
To follow as it draws. I'll to my Brother;
Tho' he hath fallen by Prompture of the Blood,
Yet hath he in him fuch a Mind of Honour,
That had he twenty Heads to tender down
On twenty bloody Blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his Sifter fhould her Body ftoop
To fuch abhorr'd Pollution.

Then Ifabel live chafte, and Brother die;
"More than our Brother is our Chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's Requeft,

And fit his Mind to Death for his Soul's Reft.

ACT III.

O,

SCENE I.

SCENE the Prison.

Enter Duke, Claudio and Provost.

[Exit

Duke. Cland. The miferable have no other Medicine then you hope of Pardon from Lord Angelo?

But only Hope I've hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.
Duke. Be abfolute for Death; either Death or Life
Shall thereby be the fweeter. Reason thus with Life;
If I do lofe thee, I do lofe a thing

That none but Fools would keep; a Breath thou art,
Servile to all the Skiey Influences:

That doft this Habitation where thou keep❜ft

Hourly affli&: Meerly thou art Death's Fool;
For him thou labour'ft by thy flight to fhun,

And yet runn'ft toward him ftill. Thou art not noble;
For all th' Accommodations that thou bear'ft,

Are nurs'd by Bafenefs: Thou'rt no way valiant;
For thou doft fear the foft and tender Fork

Of a

poor Worm. Thy beft of Reft is Sleep,
And that thou oft provok'ft, yet grofly fear'st
Thy Death, which is no more. Thou art not thy felf;
For thou exifts on many a thousand Grains
That iffue out of Duft. Happy thou art not;
For what thou haft not, ftill thou ftriv'ft to get,
And what thou haft forgett'ft. Thou art not certain,

Q 2

For

For thy Complexion fhifts to ftrange Effects,
After the Moon. If 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 unloads thee. Friend haft thou none,
For thine own Bowels which do call thee Sire,
The meer Effufion of thy proper Loins,
Do curfe the Gout, Serpigo, and the Rheum,

For ending thee no fooner. Thou haft not Youth, nor Age;
But, as it were, an after-dinner's Sleep,

Dreaming on both; for all thy bleffed Youth

Becomes as aged, and doth beg the Alms

Of palfied-Eld; and when thou art old, and rich,
Thou haft neither Heat, Affection, Limb, nor Beauty
To make thy Riches pleafant. What's yet in this
That bears the Name of Life? Yet in this Life
Lye hid more thousand Deaths; yet Death we fear,
That makes thefe odds all even.

Cland. I humbly thank you.

To fue to live, I find I feek to die,

And feeking Death, find Life: Let it come on.

Enter Ifabella.

Ifab. What hoa? Peace here; Grace and good Company.

Prov. Who's there? Come in: The Wish deserves a Welcome

Duke. Dear Sir, e'er long I'll vifit you again.

Claud. Moft holy Sir, I thank you.

Ifab. My Bufinefs is a Word or two with Claudio.
Prov. And very welcome.

Sifter.

Look Signior, here's your

Duke. Provost, a Word with you.

Prov. As many as you please.

Duke. Bring them to fpeak where I may be conceal'd,

yet hear them.

[Exeunt Duke and Provost.

Claud. Now, Sifter, what's the Comfort?

Ifab. Why,

As all Comforts are; moft good, most good indeed:
Lord Angelo, having Affairs to Heav'n,
Intends you for his fwift Ambaffador;
Where you fhall be an everlasting Leiger.

Therefore

Therefore your best Appointment make with speed,
To Morrow you set on.

Claud. Is there no Remedy?

Ifab. None but fuch Remedy, as to fave a Head To cleave a Heart in twain.

Claud. But is there any?

Ifab. 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. Perpetual Durance,!

Ifab. Ay juft, perpetual Durance, a Restraint
Through all the World's Vaftidity you had
To a determin'd Scope.

Claud. But in what Nature?

Ifab. In fuch a one, as you 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 refpect
Than a perpetual Honour. Dar'ft thou die?
The Senfe of Death is most in Apprehenfion,
And the poor Beetle that we tread upon,
In corporal Sufferance, finds a Pang as great
As when a Giant dies,

Cland. Why give you me this Shame?
Think you I can a Refolution fetch
From flow'ry Tenderness? If I muft die,
I will encounter Darkness as a Bride,

And hug it in mine Arms.

Ifab. There fpake my Brother; there my Father's Grave Did utter forth a Voice. Yes, thou must die:

Thou art too noble to conferve a Life

In bafe Appliances. This outward fainted Deputy,
Whofe fettled Vifage and deliberate Word

Nips Youth i'th' Head, and Follies doth emmew,
As Faulcon doth the Fowl, is yet a Devil;
His Filth within being caft, he would appear
A Pond as deep as Hell.

Q3

Cland

Claud. The Princely Angelo?

Ifab. Oh 'tis the cunning Livery of Hell,
The damned'ft Body to inveft and cover
In Princely Guards. Doft thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my Virginity,
Thou might'ft be freed?

Claud. Oh Heav'ns, it cannot be.

Ifab. Yes, he would give't thee; from 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'ft to Morrow.

Claud. Thou shalt not do't.

Ifab. Oh, were it but my Life,

I'd throw it down for your

As frankly as a Pin.

Deliverance

Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel.

Ifab. 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' Nofe,

When he would force it? Sure it is no Sin;

Or of the deadly feven it is the least.

Ifab. Which is the leaft?

Claud. If it were damnable, he being fo wife,
Why would he for the momentary Trick
Be perdurably fin'd? Oh Ifabel,

Ifab. What fays my Brother?

Cland. Death is a fearful thing.
Ifab. And fhamed Life a hateful.

Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where:
To lye in cold Obftruction, and to rot;
This fenfible warm Motion, to become
A kneaded Clod; and the delighted Spirit
To bathe in ficry Floods, or to refide
In thrilling Regions of thick-ribbed Ice,
To be imprifon'd in the viewlefs Winds,
And blown with reftlefs violence round about
The pendant World; or to be worse than worst
Of thofe, that lawlefs and uncertain Thought,
Imagine howling; 'tis too horrible.

The wearief and most loathed wordly Life
That Age, Ach, Penury, and imprisonment

Can

Can lay on Nature, is a Paradife

To what we fear of Death.

Ifab. Alas! alas!

Claud, Sweet Sifter, let me live.

What Sin you do to fave a Brother's Life,
Nature difpenfes with the Deed fo far,
That it becomes a Virtue.

Ifab. Oh you Beaft!

Oh faithlefs Coward! oh difhoneft Wretch !
Wilt thou be made a Man out of my Vice?

Is't not a kind of Inceft, to take Life

From thine own Sifter's Shame? What fhould I think?
Heav'n fhield my Mother plaid my Father fair:
For fuch a warped flip of Wilderness

Ne'er iffu'd from his Blood. Take my Defiance,
Die, perifh: Might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy Fate, it fhould proceed.
I'll pay a thousand Prayers for thy Death;
No Word to fave thee.

Claud. Nay, hear me, Ifabel.

Ifab. Oh, fic, fie, fie,

Thy Sin's not accidental, but a Trade; Mercy to thee would prove it felf a Bawd; 'Tis beft that thou dy'ft quietly.

Claud. Oh hear me, Isabella.

Enter Duke and Provoft.

Duke. Vouchafe a Word, young Sifter, but one Word. Ifab. What is your Will?

Duke. Might you difpenfe with your Leifure, I would by and by have fome Speech with you: The Satisfaction I would require, is likewife your own Benefit.

Ifab. I have no fuperfluous Leifure; my Stay must be ftolen out of other Affairs: But I will attend you a while.

Duke. Son, I have over-heard what hath paft between you and your Sifter. Angelo had never the Purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an Effay of her Virtue, to practife his Judgment with the Difpofition of Natures. She, having the truth of Honour in her, hath made him that gracious Denial, which he is moft glad to receive: I am Confeffor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare your felf to Death. Do not fatisfie your Refolution with Hopes that

Q 4