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DUKE. Dear Son, ere long I'll visit you again.
ISAB. My business is a word or two with Claudio.
PROV. And very welcome. Look, Signior, here's your
DUKE. Provost, a word with you.
As many as you please.
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Therefore your best appointment2 make with speed:
But is there any?
you 'll implore it, that will free your life,
To a determin'd scope. 8
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in mine arms.
ISAB. There spake my brother! there my father's grave
Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. This outward-sainted Deputy-
Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew,1
As falcon doth the fowl-is yet a Devil.
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as Hell.
In primsie guards !5 Dost thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou might'st be freed.
ACT III CLAUD. If it were damnable, he being so wise,
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 motion1 to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted' spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
To what we fear of death.
ISAB. Alas! alas!
O, you beast!
From thine own sister's shame? What should I
Heaven shield3 my mother play'd my father fair,
No word to save thee.
CLAUD. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
O, fie, fie, fie!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade:
O, hear me, Isabella!
DUKE. Vouchsafe a word, young Sister, but one word.
DUKE. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by-
ISAB. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen
CLAUD. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of
DUKE. Hold you there.1 Farewell.
Provost, a word with you.
PROV. What's your will, Father?
DUKE. That now you are come, you will be gone.
PROV. In good time.2
1 keep that resolve.
2 so be it.
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: I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. 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. She should this Angelo have married : was affianc'd to her oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract and limit1 of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrack'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 renown'd brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.