I something do excuse the thing I hate, Isab. Else let my brother die, If not a feodary, but only he Owe, and succeed thy weakness. Ang. Nay, women are frail too. Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves; Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women!-Help Heaven! men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints. Ang. I think it well: And from this testimony of your own sex, (Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold ; I do arrest your words: Be that you are, That is, a woman; if you be more, you 're none; By all external warrants,) show it now, By putting on the destin❜d livery. Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell me That he shall die for it. Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in 't, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Ang. Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, And most pernicious purpose!-Seeming, seeming!I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for 't: Sign me a present pardon for my brother, Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world aloud, What man thou art. Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel? That you shall stifle in your own report, Or else he must not only die the death, Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. [Exit. That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, Either of condemnation or approof! Bidding the law make court'sy to their will; a That, had he twenty heads to tender down To such abhorr'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. a Prompture-suggestion. [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 dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, And yet runn'st toward him still: Thou art not noble; Are nurs'd by baseness: Thou art by no means valiant; Of a poor worm: Thy best of rest is sleep, For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, 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 company! Prov. Who's there? come in the wish deserves a welcome. : Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio. your sister. Duke. Provost, a word with you. Prov. As many as you please. Duke. Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be conceal'd. [Exeunt DUKE and Prov. Claud. Now, sister, what 's the comfort? Isab. Why, as all comforts are; most good, most good indeed : Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, a Eld-old age, or old people. 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; 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. 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: |