Or by the affection that now guides me most,

I’ll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,

Say what you can, my false o’erweighs your true.

Exit

ISABELLA

To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,

Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,

That bear in them one and the selfsame tongue

Either of condemnation or approof,

Bidding the law make curtsy to their will,

Hooking both right and wrong to th’appetite,

To follow as it draws! I’ll to my brother.

Though he hath fall’n by prompture of the blood,

Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour

That had he twenty heads to tender down

On twenty bloody blocks, he’d yield them up

Before his sister should her body stoop

To such abhorred pollution.

Then Isabel live chaste, and brother die:

More than our brother is our chastity.

I’ll tell him yet of Angelo’s request,

And fit his mind to death, for his soul’s rest.

Exit

3.1 Enter the Duke, disguised as a friar, Claudio, and the Provost

DUKE

So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?

CLAUDIO

The miserable have no other medicine

But only hope.

I’ve hope to live, and am prepared 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,

Servile to all the skyey influences

That dost this habitation where thou keep‘st

Hourly afflict. Merely thou art death’s fool,

For him thou labour’st by thy flight to shun,

And yet runn‘st toward him still. Thou art not noble,

For all th’accommodations that thou bear’t

Are nursed by baseness. Thou’rt by no means valiant,

For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork

Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,

And that thou oft provok‘st, yet grossly fear’st

Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself,

For thou exist‘st on many a thousand grains

That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not,

For what thou hast not, still thou striv’st to get,

And what thou hast, forget‘st. Thou art not certain,

For thy complexion shifts to strange effects

After the moon. If thou art rich, thou’rt poor,

For like an ass whose back with ingots bows,

Thou bear’st thy heavy riches but a journey,

And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none,

For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,

The mere effusion of thy proper loins,

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

Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms

Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,

Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,

To make thy riches pleasant. What’s in this

That bears the name of life? Yet in this life

Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear

That makes these odds all even.

CLAUDIO

I humbly thank you.

To sue to live, I find I seek to die,

And seeking death, find life. Let it come on.

ISABELLA (within)

What ho! Peace here, grace, and good company!

PROVOST

Who’s there? Come in; the wish deserves a welcome.

DUKE (to Claudio)

Dear sir, ere long I’ll visit you again.

CLAUDIO Most holy sir, I thank you.

Enter Isabella

ISABELLA

My business is a word or two with Claudio.

PROVOST

And very welcome. Look, signor, here’s your sister.

DUKE

Provost, a word with you.

PROVOST As many as you please.

The Duke and Provost draw aside

DUKE

Bring me to hear them speak where I may be

concealed.

They conceal themselves

CLAUDIO Now sister, what’s the comfort?

ISABELLA

Why, as all comforts are: most good, most good

indeed.

Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,

Intends you for his swift ambassador,

Where you shall be an everlasting leiger.

Therefore your best appointment make with speed.

Tomorrow you set on.

CLAUDIO

Is there no remedy?

ISABELLA

None but such remedy as, to save a head,

To cleave a heart in twain.

CLAUDIO But is there any?

ISABELLA 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.

CLAUDIO

Perpetual durance?

ISABELLA

Ay, just, perpetual durance; a restraint,

Though all the world’s vastidity you had,

To a determined scope.

CLAUDIO

But in what nature?

ISABELLA

In such a one as you consenting to’t

Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,

And leave you naked.

CLAUDIO

Let me know the point.

ISABELLA

O, I do fear thee, Claudio, and I quake

Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,