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Something too wildly, and my father's precepts
I therein do forget.

Fer. I am, in my condition,
A prince, Miranda ; I do think, a king ;
(I would, not so !) and would no more endure
This wooden llavery, than I would suffer
The flesh-fly blow my mouth. - Hear my soul speak-
The very inftant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service, there resides
To make me slave to it, and for your

fake Am I this patient log-man.

Mira. Do you love me?

Fer. O heav'n! O earth! bear witness to this sound,
And crown what I profess with kind event,
If I speak true ; if hollowly, invert
What best is boded me, to mischief! I
Beyond all limit of what else i'th' world,
Do love, prize, honour you.
Mira, I am a fool,
weep

at what I'm glad of.
Pro. Fair encounter
Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace
On that which breeds between 'em!

Fer. Wherefore weep you?
Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer
What I desire to give ; and much less take
What I thall die to want. But this is trifling ;
And all the more it seeks to hide itself,
The bigger bulk it Thews. Hence, bashful Cunning!

prompt me, plain and holy Innocence,
I am your wife, if you will marry me;
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow
You may deny me; but I'll be your

{ervant, Whether you will or no.

Fer. My mistress, dearest,
And I thus humble ever.

Mira. My husband then ?
Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing
As bondage e'er of freedom. Here's my hand,

Mira. And mine, with my heart in't. “And now fare's'e!, 'Till half an hour hence. Fer. A thousand, thousand.

Excurt.

And

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Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, Who are surpris'd withal; but my rejoicing At nothing can be more. I'll to my book ; For yet, ere fupper-time, must I perform Much business appertaining.

[Exit.

No. II. MEASURE FOR MEASURE.
Act III. Scene I.

The Prison.
Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost.
So, then you've hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?

Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, But only Hope: I've hope to live, and am prepard to die.

Duke. Be absolute for death : or 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 skiey influences "That do this habitation, where thou keep'st, Hourly alliet: merely thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'it by thy flight to Mun, And yet run'st toward him still. Thou art not noble: For all the accommodations, that thou bear'ft, Are nurs'd by basere!s: thou 'rt by no means valiant ; For thou doit fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'it; 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, ftill thou striv'st to get; And what thou haft forgét'ft. Thou art not certain ; For thy complexion Mifts to ftrange effects, After the moon, If thou art rich, thou art poor ; For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'lt thy heavy riches but a journey, Ard death unloids thee. Friend hast thou none; Foi thy own bowels, which do call thee Sire,

The

The mere effusion of thy proper

loins,
Do curse the gout, Perpigo, 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 palsiçd Eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hatt neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life ? yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear,
That makes thefe odds all even.

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 with deserves a wel.
Duke. Dear Sir, ere long I'll visit you again. [come.
Claud. Most holy Sir, I thank you.
Ifab. My businels is a word or two with Claudio.
Prov. And very welcome. Look, Signior, here's your
Duke. Provost, a word with you.

[lister. Prov. As many as you please.

Duke. Bring them to speak where I may be conceald, Yet hear them.

{Exeunt Duke and Provost. Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort ?

Isab. Why, as all comforts are ; molt good in deed :' 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;
To-morrow

you
Claud. Is there no remedy?
Ifab. None, but such remedy, as, to save 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.

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Claud. Perpetual durance ?

/ab. Ay, juft; perpetual durance; a refraint,
Tho' all the world's vaftidity you had,
To a determin'd fcope.

Claud. But in what nature ?
Ifab. In fach 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. Oh, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Leit thou a feverous life should'It entertain,
And fix or feven winters more respect
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'ft thou die?
The sense of death is most in apprehension ;
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal fufferance finds a pang as great,
As when a giant dies.

Claud. Why give you me this shame?
Think you, I can a resolution setch
From flowery tenderness? If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And lug it in mine arms.

Ifab. There spake my brother; there my father's gure
Dit utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die :
Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. "This outward-fainted Deputy,
Whose fettled visage 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 cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.

Claud. The princely Angelo?
Isab. Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'it body to invest and cover
In princely guards. Doft thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou might'st be freed?

Claud. Oh, heavens! it cannot be

Ijab. Yes, he would give it thee for this rank offence, So to offend him still. This night's the time That I Mould do what I abhor to name, Or else thou dy'st to-morrow.

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Claud. Thou Thalt not do't.
Ifab. Oh, were it but my

life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.

Claud. Thanks, dearest Ifabel.
Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your

death to-morrow.
Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
When he would force it? Sure, it is no fin;
Or of the deadly feven it is the least.

Ifab. Which is the least?

Claud. If it were damnable, he being so wise,
Why should he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fin'd! Oh, Isabel!

Ijab. What says my brother?
Claud. Death's a fearful thing.
Ifab. 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 fenfible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted fpirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to refide
In thrilling regions of thick-ribb'd ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendant world; or to be worst than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling : 'tis too horrible !
The wearieit and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ach, penury, imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.

Isab. Alas! alas!

Claud. Sweet sister, let me live!
What fin you do to save a brother's life,
Nature dispenses with the deed fo far,
That it becomes a virtue.
Isab. Oh, you

beast ! Oh, faithless coward! oh, dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my

vice? Is't not a kind of incest, to take life From thine own fifter's shame? What should I think?

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