Measure for Measure

SCENE II. Another room in ANGELO'S house

Enter PROVOST and a SERVANT

  SERVANT. He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight.    I'll tell him of you.  PROVOST. Pray you do. [Exit SERVANT] I'll know    His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas,    He hath but as offended in a dream!    All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he    To die for 't!

Enter ANGELO

  ANGELO. Now, what's the matter, Provost?  PROVOST. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow?  ANGELO. Did not I tell thee yea? Hadst thou not order?    Why dost thou ask again?  PROVOST. Lest I might be too rash;    Under your good correction, I have seen    When, after execution, judgment hath    Repented o'er his doom.  ANGELO. Go to; let that be mine.    Do you your office, or give up your place,    And you shall well be spar'd.  PROVOST. I crave your honour's pardon.    What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?    She's very near her hour.  ANGELO. Dispose of her    To some more fitter place, and that with speed.

Re-enter SERVANT

  SERVANT. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd    Desires access to you.  ANGELO. Hath he a sister?  PROVOST. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,    And to be shortly of a sisterhood,    If not already.  ANGELO. Well, let her be admitted. Exit SERVANT    See you the fornicatress be remov'd;    Let her have needful but not lavish means;    There shall be order for't.

Enter Lucio and ISABELLA

  PROVOST. [Going] Save your honour!  ANGELO. Stay a little while. [To ISABELLA] Y'are welcome;what's    your will?  ISABELLA. I am a woeful suitor to your honour,    Please but your honour hear me.  ANGELO. Well; what's your suit?  ISABELLA. There is a vice that most I do abhor,    And most desire should meet the blow of justice;    For which I would not plead, but that I must;    For which I must not plead, but that I am    At war 'twixt will and will not.  ANGELO. Well; the matter?  ISABELLA. I have a brother is condemn'd to die;    I do beseech you, let it be his fault,    And not my brother.  PROVOST. [Aside] Heaven give thee moving graces.  ANGELO. Condemn the fault and not the actor of it!    Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done;    Mine were the very cipher of a function,    To fine the faults whose fine stands in record,    And let go by the actor.  ISABELLA. O just but severe law!    I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour!  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Give't not o'er so; to him again, entreathim,    Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;    You are too cold: if you should need a pin,    You could not with more tame a tongue desire it.    To him, I say.  ISABELLA. Must he needs die?  ANGELO. Maiden, no remedy.  ISABELLA. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him.    And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.  ANGELO. I will not do't.  ISABELLA. But can you, if you would?  ANGELO. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.  ISABELLA. But might you do't, and do the world no wrong,    If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse    As mine is to him?  ANGELO. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late.  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] You are too cold.  ISABELLA. Too late? Why, no; I, that do speak a word,    May call it back again. Well, believe this:    No ceremony that to great ones longs,    Not the king's crown nor the deputed sword,    The marshal's truncheon nor the judge's robe,    Become them with one half so good a grace    As mercy does.    If he had been as you, and you as he,    You would have slipp'd like him; but he, like you,    Would not have been so stern.  ANGELO. Pray you be gone.  ISABELLA. I would to heaven I had your potency,    And you were Isabel! Should it then be thus?    No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge    And what a prisoner.  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Ay, touch him; there's the vein.  ANGELO. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,    And you but waste your words.  ISABELLA. Alas! Alas!    Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;    And He that might the vantage best have took    Found out the remedy. How would you be    If He, which is the top of judgment, should    But judge you as you are? O, think on that;    And mercy then will breathe within your lips,    Like man new made.  ANGELO. Be you content, fair maid.    It is the law, not I condemn your brother.    Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,    It should be thus with him. He must die to-morrow.  ISABELLA. To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him.    He's not prepar'd for death. Even for our kitchens    We kill the fowl of season; shall we serve heaven    With less respect than we do minister    To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you.    Who is it that hath died for this offence?    There's many have committed it.  LUCIO. [Aside] Ay, well said.  ANGELO. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.    Those many had not dar'd to do that evil    If the first that did th' edict infringe    Had answer'd for his deed. Now 'tis awake,    Takes note of what is done, and, like a prophet,    Looks in a glass that shows what future evils-    Either now or by remissness new conceiv'd,    And so in progress to be hatch'd and born-    Are now to have no successive degrees,    But here they live to end.  ISABELLA. Yet show some pity.  ANGELO. I show it most of all when I show justice;    For then I pity those I do not know,    Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall,    And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,    Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;    Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.  ISABELLA. So you must be the first that gives this sentence,    And he that suffers. O, it is excellent    To have a giant's strength! But it is tyrannous    To use it like a giant.  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] That's well said.  ISABELLA. Could great men thunder    As Jove himself does, Jove would never be quiet,    For every pelting petty officer    Would use his heaven for thunder,    Nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven,    Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,    Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak    Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man,    Dress'd in a little brief authority,    Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,    His glassy essence, like an angry ape,    Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven    As makes the angels weep; who, with our speens,    Would all themselves laugh mortal.  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] O, to him, to him, wench! He will relent;    He's coming; I perceive 't.  PROVOST. [Aside] Pray heaven she win him.  ISABELLA. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself.    Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them;    But in the less foul profanation.  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Thou'rt i' th' right, girl; more o' that.  ISABELLA. That in the captain's but a choleric word    Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Art avis'd o' that? More on't.  ANGELO. Why do you put these sayings upon me?  ISABELLA. Because authority, though it err like others,    Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself    That skins the vice o' th' top. Go to your bosom,    Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know    That's like my brother's fault. If it confess    A natural guiltiness such as is his,    Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue    Against my brother's life.  ANGELO. [Aside] She speaks, and 'tis    Such sense that my sense breeds with it. – Fare you well.  ISABELLA. Gentle my lord, turn back.  ANGELO. I will bethink me. Come again to-morrow.  ISABELLA. Hark how I'll bribe you; good my lord, turn back.  ANGELO. How, bribe me?  ISABELLA. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA) You had marr'd all else.  ISABELLA. Not with fond sicles of the tested gold,    Or stones, whose rate are either rich or poor    As fancy values them; but with true prayers    That shall be up at heaven and enter there    Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls,    From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate    To nothing temporal.  ANGELO. Well; come to me to-morrow.  LUCIO. [To ISABELLA] Go to; 'tis well; away.  ISABELLA. Heaven keep your honour safe!  ANGELO. [Aside] Amen; for I    Am that way going to temptation    Where prayers cross.  ISABELLA. At what hour to-morrow    Shall I attend your lordship?  ANGELO. At any time 'fore noon.  ISABELLA. Save your honour! Exeunt all but ANGELO  ANGELO. From thee; even from thy virtue!    What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine?    The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?    Ha!    Not she; nor doth she tempt; but it is I    That, lying by the violet in the sun,    Do as the carrion does, not as the flow'r,    Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be    That modesty may more betray our sense    Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,    Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,    And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!    What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?    Dost thou desire her foully for those things    That make her good? O, let her brother live!    Thieves for their robbery have authority    When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her,    That I desire to hear her speak again,    And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?    O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,    With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous    Is that temptation that doth goad us on    To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet,    With all her double vigour, art and nature,    Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid    Subdues me quite. Ever till now,    When men were fond, I smil'd and wond'red how. Exit

SCENE III. A prison

Enter, severally, DUKE, disguised as a FRIAR, and PROVOST

  DUKE. Hail to you, Provost! so I think you are.  PROVOST. I am the Provost. What's your will, good friar?  DUKE. Bound by my charity and my blest order,    I come to visit the afflicted spirits    Here in the prison. Do me the common right    To let me see them, and to make me know    The nature of their crimes, that I may minister    To them accordingly.  PROVOST. I would do more than that, if more were needful.

Enter JULIET

    Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine,    Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth,    Hath blister'd her report. She is with child;    And he that got it, sentenc'd- a young man    More fit to do another such offence    Than die for this.  DUKE. When must he die?  PROVOST. As I do think, to-morrow.    [To JULIET] I have provided for you; stay awhile    And you shall be conducted.  DUKE. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?  JULIET. I do; and bear the shame most patiently.  DUKE. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience,    And try your penitence, if it be sound    Or hollowly put on.  JULIET. I'll gladly learn.  DUKE. Love you the man that wrong'd you?  JULIET. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.  DUKE. So then, it seems, your most offenceful act    Was mutually committed.  JULIET. Mutually.  DUKE. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.  JULIET. I do confess it, and repent it, father.  DUKE. 'Tis meet so, daughter; but lest you do repent    As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,    Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven,    Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it,    But as we stand in fear-  JULIET. I do repent me as it is an evil,    And take the shame with joy.  DUKE. There rest.    Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,    And I am going with instruction to him.    Grace go with you! Benedicite! Exit  JULIET. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious law,    That respites me a life whose very comfort    Is still a dying horror!  PROVOST. 'Tis pity of him. Exeunt

SCENE IV. ANGELO'S house

Enter ANGELO

  ANGELO. When I would pray and think, I think and pray    To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words,    Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,    Anchors on Isabel. Heaven in my mouth,    As if I did but only chew his name,    And in my heart the strong and swelling evil    Of my conception. The state whereon I studied    Is, like a good thing being often read,    Grown sere and tedious; yea, my gravity,    Wherein- let no man hear me- I take pride,    Could I with boot change for an idle plume    Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form,    How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,    Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls    To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood.    Let's write 'good angel' on the devil's horn;    'Tis not the devil's crest.

Enter SERVANT

    How now, who's there?  SERVANT. One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you.  ANGELO. Teach her the way. [Exit SERVANT] O heavens!    Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,    Making both it unable for itself    And dispossessing all my other parts    Of necessary fitness?    So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;    Come all to help him, and so stop the air    By which he should revive; and even so    The general subject to a well-wish'd king    Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness    Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love    Must needs appear offence.

Enter ISABELLA

    How now, fair maid?  ISABELLA. I am come to know your pleasure.  ANGELO. That you might know it would much better please me    Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.  ISABELLA. Even so! Heaven keep your honour!  ANGELO. Yet may he live awhile, and, it may be,    As long as you or I; yet he must die.  ISABELLA. Under your sentence?  ANGELO. Yea.  ISABELLA. When? I beseech you; that in his reprieve,    Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted    That his soul sicken not.  ANGELO. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good    To pardon him that hath from nature stol'n    A man already made, as to remit    Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image    In stamps that are forbid; 'tis all as easy    Falsely to take away a life true made    As to put metal in restrained means    To make a false one.  ISABELLA. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.  ANGELO. Say you so? Then I shall pose you quickly.    Which had you rather- that the most just law    Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,    Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness    As she that he hath stain'd?  ISABELLA. Sir, believe this:    I had rather give my body than my soul.  ANGELO. I talk not of your soul; our compell'd sins    Stand more for number than for accompt.  ISABELLA. How say you?  ANGELO. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak    Against the thing I say. Answer to this:    I, now the voice of the recorded law,    Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life;    Might there not be a charity in sin    To save this brother's life?  ISABELLA. Please you to do't,    I'll take it as a peril to my soul    It is no sin at all, but charity.  ANGELO. Pleas'd you to do't at peril of your soul,    Were equal poise of sin and charity.  ISABELLA. That I do beg his life, if it be sin,    Heaven let me bear it! You granting of my suit,    If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer    To have it added to the faults of mine,    And nothing of your answer.  ANGELO. Nay, but hear me;    Your sense pursues not mine; either you are ignorant    Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good.  ISABELLA. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good    But graciously to know I am no better.  ANGELO. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright    When it doth tax itself; as these black masks    Proclaim an enshielded beauty ten times louder    Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me:    To be received plain, I'll speak more gross-    Your brother is to die.  ISABELLA. So.  ANGELO. And his offence is so, as it appears,    Accountant to the law upon that pain.  ISABELLA. True.  ANGELO. Admit no other way to save his life,    As I subscribe not that, nor any other,    But, in the loss of question, that you, his sister,    Finding yourself desir'd of such a person    Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,    Could fetch your brother from the manacles    Of the all-binding law; and that there were    No earthly mean to save him but that either    You must lay down the treasures of your body    To this supposed, or else to let him suffer-    What would you do?  ISABELLA. As much for my poor brother as myself;    That is, were I under the terms of death,    Th' impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,    And strip myself to death as to a bed    That longing have been sick for, ere I'd yield    My body up to shame.  ANGELO. Then must your brother die.  ISABELLA. And 'twere the cheaper way:    Better it were a brother died at once    Than that a sister, by redeeming him,    Should die for ever.  ANGELO. Were not you, then, as cruel as the sentence    That you have slander'd so?  ISABELLA. Ignominy in ransom and free pardon    Are of two houses: lawful mercy    Is nothing kin to foul redemption.  ANGELO. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;    And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother    A merriment than a vice.  ISABELLA. O, pardon me, my lord! It oft falls out,    To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean:    I something do excuse the thing I hate    For his advantage that I dearly love.  ANGELO. We are all frail.  ISABELLA. Else let my brother die,    If not a fedary but only he    Owe and succeed thy weakness.  ANGELO. Nay, women are frail too.  ISABELLA. 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.  ANGELO. 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;    If you be one, as you are well express'd    By all external warrants, show it now    By putting on the destin'd livery.  ISABELLA. I have no tongue but one; gentle, my lord,    Let me intreat you speak the former language.  ANGELO. Plainly conceive, I love you.  ISABELLA. My brother did love Juliet,    And you tell me that he shall die for't.  ANGELO. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.  ISABELLA. I know your virtue hath a license in't,    Which seems a little fouler than it is,    To pluck on others.  ANGELO. Believe me, on mine honour,    My words express my purpose.  ISABELLA. 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.  ANGELO. Who will believe thee, Isabel?    My unsoil'd name, th' austereness of my life,    My vouch against you, and my place i' th' state,    Will so your accusation overweigh    That you shall stifle in your own report,    And smell of calumny. I have begun,    And now I give my sensual race the rein:    Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;    Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes    That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother    By yielding up thy body to my will;    Or else he must not only die the death,    But thy unkindness shall his death draw out    To ling'ring sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,    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 self-same 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 abhorr'd 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

ACT III. SCENE I. The prison

Enter DUKE, disguised as before, CLAUDIO, and PROVOST

  DUKE. So, then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?  CLAUDIO. The miserable have no other medicine    But only hope:    I have hope to Eve, 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,    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 run'st toward him still. Thou art not noble;    For all th' accommodations that thou bear'st    Are nurs'd 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 exists 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 yet in this    That bears the name of life? Yet in this life    Lie hid moe 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 goodcompany!  PROVOST. Who's there? Come in; the wish deserves a welcome.  DUKE. 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, signior, here's your sister.  DUKE. Provost, a word with you.  PROVOST. As many as you please.  DUKE. Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be conceal'd.Exeunt DUKE and PROVOST  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;    To-morrow 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 determin'd 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,    And six or seven winters more respect    Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die?    The sense of death is most in apprehension;    And the poor beetle that we tread upon    In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great    As when a giant dies.  CLAUDIO. Why give you me this shame?    Think you I can a resolution fetch    From flow'ry tenderness? If I must die,    I will encounter darkness as a bride    And hug it in mine arms.  ISABELLA. There spake my brother; there my father's grave    Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:    Thou art too noble to conserve a life    In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,    Whose settled visage and deliberate word    Nips youth i' th' head, and follies doth enew    As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil;    His filth within being cast, he would appear    A pond as deep as hell.  CLAUDIO. The precise Angelo!  ISABELLA. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell    The damned'st body to invest and cover    In precise guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,    If I would yield him my virginity    Thou mightst be freed?  CLAUDIO. O heavens! it cannot be.  ISABELLA. Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence,    So to offend him still. This night's the time    That I should do what I abhor to name,    Or else thou diest to-morrow.  CLAUDIO. Thou shalt not do't.  ISABELLA. O, were it but my life!    I'd throw it down for your deliverance    As frankly as a pin.  CLAUDIO. Thanks, dear Isabel.  ISABELLA. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.  CLAUDIO. Yes. Has he affections in him    That thus can make him bite the law by th' nose    When he would force it? Sure it is no sin;    Or of the deadly seven it is the least.  ISABELLA. Which is the least?  CLAUDIO. If it were damnable, he being so wise,    Why would he for the momentary trick    Be perdurably fin'd? – O Isabel!  ISABELLA. What says my brother?  CLAUDIO. Death is a fearful thing.  ISABELLA. And shamed life a hateful.  CLAUDIO. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;    To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;    This sensible warm motion to become    A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit    To bathe in fiery floods or to reside    In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;    To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,    And blown with restless violence round about    The pendent world; or to be worse than worst    Of those that lawless and incertain thought    Imagine howling- 'tis too horrible.    The weariest and most loathed worldly life    That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment,    Can lay on nature is a paradise    To what we fear of death.  ISABELLA. Alas, alas!  CLAUDIO. Sweet sister, let me live.    What sin you do to save a brother's life,    Nature dispenses with the deed so far    That it becomes a virtue.  ISABELLA. O you beast!    O faithless coward! O 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 sister's shame? What should I think?    Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair!    For such a warped slip of wilderness    Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance;    Die; perish. Might but my bending down    Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed.    I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,    No word to save thee.  CLAUDIO. Nay, hear me, Isabel.  ISABELLA. O fie, fie, fie!    Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade.    Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd;    'Tis best that thou diest quickly.  CLAUDIO. O, hear me, Isabella.

Re-enter DUKE