(As I subscribe' not that, nor any other,
But in the loss of question,2) 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 let him suffer;
What would you do?

Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself:
That is, Were I under the terms of death,
The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed

That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.

Ang.

Then must your brother die.
Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way:
Better it were, a brother died at once,
Than that a sister, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
That you have slander'd so?

Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon,
Are of two houses: lawful mercy is
Nothing akin to foul redemption.

Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a ty-
rant,

And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment than a vice.

Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
To have what we'd have, we speak not what

mean:

I something do excuse the thing I hate,

For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.
Isab.

4

we

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?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the 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 lingering 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.

Isab. To whom shall 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 court'sy to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fallen 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 :

Else let my brother die, More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,

If not a feodary, but only he,
Owe, and succeed by weakness.
Ang.
Nay, women are frail too.
Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them-
selves;

Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
Women!-Help heaven! men their creation mar

And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.

ACT III.

Claudio, and Provost.

In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; SCENE I.—A room in the prison. Enter Duke
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;
If you be one (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants,) show it now,
By putting on the destin❜d livery.

Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me entreat you speak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.
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 license 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!

Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord
Angelo?

Claud. The miserable have no other medicine,
But only hope:

have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.

Duke. Be absolute10 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 skiey influences,)

That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
And yet run'st toward him still: Thou art not noble;
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st,
Are nurs'd by baseness: Thou art 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;
That issue out of dust: Happy thou art not:
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains

(1) Agree to. (2) Conversation. (3) Ignominy. (7) Hypocrisy. (8) Attestation. (9) Reluctant. (4) Associate. (5) Own. (6) Impressions. (10) Determined.

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 art 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 thee 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 more thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these 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.

Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you.
Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio.
Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's

your sister.

Duke. Provost, a word with you.
Prov.
As many as you please.
Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be
conceal'd,

Yet hear them. [Exeunt Duke and Provost.
Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort?
Isab. Why, as all comforts are; most good in-

deed;

Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:4
Therefore your best appointment' make with speed;
To-morrow you set on.

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,
But fetter you till death.

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.

Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die?

(1) Affects, affections. (2) Leprous eruptions.
(3) Old age.
(4) Resident. (5) Preparation.
(6) Vastness of extent.
(7) Shut up.

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.

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:
Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i'the head, and follies doth enmew,"
As falcon 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?
Isub. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'st body to invest and cover
In princely guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou mightest be freed?
Claud.
O, heavens! it cannot be.
Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank

offence,

That I should do what I abhor to name,
So to offend him still: This night's the time
Or else thou diest to-morrow.
Claud.

Thou shalt not do't.

I'd throw it down for your deliverance
Isab. O, were it but my life,
As frankly as a pin.

Claud.
Thanks, dear Isabel.
Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him,
When he would force it? Sure it is no sin;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.

Isab. Which is the least?

Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise,
Why, would he for the momentary trick,
Be perdurably 10 fined?-O, Isabel!
Isab. What says my brother!
Claud.

Death is a fearful thing.
Isab. And shamed life a hateful.
Claud. Ay, but to do die, and go we know not

To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
where;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded cold; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless" winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Imagine howling!-'tis too horrible!
The wearied and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
To what we fear of death.
Can lay on nature, is a paradise

Isab. Alas! alas!

Scene 1.

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

think?

Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness1

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.

Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
Isab.

O, fic, fie, fie!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade :3'
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:
'Tis best thou diest quickly.
Claud.

[Going.
O hear me, Isabella.
Re-enter Duke.

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 wronged 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 hear ing 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 not you 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. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed:

word.

Isab. What is your will?

Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own

benefit.

Isab. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you a while.

Duke. Her should this Angel have married; was between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark, how heavily this befel to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned 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.

Isab. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? Duke. [To Claudio, aside.] Son, I have overDuke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of heard what hath passed between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, only he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practise pretending, in her, discoveries of dishonour: in few, his judgment with the disposition of natures: she, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she having the truth of honour in her, hath made him yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her that gracious denial which he is most glad to re- tears, is washed with them, but relents not. ceive; I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: to-morrow you must die; go to your knees, and inake ready.

Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it. Duke. Hold you there: farewell. [Ex. Claud. Re-enter Provost.

Provost, a word with you.

pany.

Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live!-But how out of this can she avail ?

Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.

Isab. Show me how, good father.

Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, Prov. What's your will, father? Duke. That now you are come, you will be gone: made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Anleave me a while with the maid; my mind promises gelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obediwith my habit, no loss shall touch her by my coin-ence; agree with his demands to the point: only refer yourself to this advantage,--first, that your Prov. In good time. [Exit Provost, stay with him may not be long; that the time may Duke. The hand that hath make you fair, hath have all shadow and silence in it; and the place made you good: the goodness, that is cheap in answer to convenience this being granted in We shall advise this beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, course, now follows all. being the soul of your complexion, should keep the wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in body of it ever fair. The assault, that Angelo hath your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my under- hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense; standing; and, but that frailty hath examples for and here, by this, is your brother saved, your ho his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How would nour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and you do to content this substitute, and to save your the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to brother? carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?

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 deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government.

Isab. The image of it gives me content already; and, I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.

Duke. It lies much in your holding up: haste (5) Betrothed. (6) Gave her up to her sorrows. (7) Have recourse to. (8) Over-reached.

you speedily to Angelo; if for this night he entreat] you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to St. Luke's; there, at the moated grange,' resides this dejected Mariana; at that place call upon me; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.

Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still? Ha?

Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.

Lucio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so: ever your fresh whore, and your pow der'd bawd: an unshunn'd consequence; it must be so: art going to prison, Pompey? Clo. Yes, faith, sir.

Isab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally. SCENE II.-The street before the prison. Enter Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey: farewell: Duke, as a friar; to him Elbow, Clown, and go; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? Or how?

Officers.

Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.2

Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. Lucio. Well, then imprison him: if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd born. Farewell, good Pompey: commend me to Duke. O, heavens! what stuff is here? the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband Clo. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two now, Pompey; you will keep the house. usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my allow'd by order law a furr'd gown to keep bail.

him warm; and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not too, to signify, that craft, being richer than inno- the wear." I will pray, Pompey, to increase your cency, stands for the facing. bondage: if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.-Bless you, friar.

Elb. Come your way, sir :-Bless you, good father friar.

Duke. And you, good brother father: What offence hath this man made you, sir?

Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock,3 which we have sent to the deputy.

Duke. Fie, sirrah; a bawd, a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou causest to be done,
That is thy means to live: do thou but think
What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back,
From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,-
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.
Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend.
Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but
yet, sir, I would prove-

Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs
for sin,

Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer;
Correction and instruction must both work,
Ere this rude beast will profit.

Elb. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be, Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free!

Enter Lucio.

Duke. And you.

Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?
Elb. Come your ways, sir; come.

Clo. You will not bail me then, sir?

Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now.-What news abroad, friar? what news?

Elb. Come your ways, sir; come.
Lucio. Go,-to kennel, Pompey, go:

[Exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers.

What news, friar, of the duke?

Duke. I know none: can you tell me of any? Lucio. Some say, he is with the emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where 3 he, think you?

Duke. I know not where: but wheresoever, I wish him well.

Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him, to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to't.

Duke. He does well in't.

Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar.

Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.

Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put Elb. His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir. down. They say, this Angelo was not made by Clo. I spy comfort; I cry, bail: here's a gentle-man and woman, after the downright way of creaman, and a friend of mine. tion: is it true, think you? Duke. How should he be made then?

Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the heels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What, Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him :— is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made Some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes: woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the but it is certain, that when he makes water, his pocket, and extracting it clutch'd? What reply? urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true: and Ha? What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and he is a motion ungenerative, that's infallible. method? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain? Ha? Duke. You are pleasant, sir; and speak apace. What say'st thou, trot? Is the world as it was, Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece, to take away words? Or how? The trick of it? the life of a man? Would the duke, that is absent, have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have

Duke. Still thus, and thus! still worse!

(1) A solitary farm-house. (2) A sweet wine. (3) For a Spanish padlock.

(4) Tied like your waist with a rope.

paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feel-Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality ing of the sport; he knew the service, and that in- Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny structed him to mercy. The whitest virtue strikes: What king so strong, Duke. I never heard the absent duke much de-Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ? tected for women; he was not inclined that way. But who comes here? Lucio. O, sir, you are deceived. Duke. 'Tis not possible.

Lucio. Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty-and his use was, to put a ducat in her clackdish: the duke had crotchets in him: he would be drunk too; that let me inform you.

Dake. You do him wrong, surely.

Lacio. Sir, I was an inward of his: a shy fellow was the duke: and, I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing.

Enter Escalus, Provost, Bawd, and Officers. Escal. Go, away with her to prison.

Bawd. Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man: good my lord. Escal, Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear, and play the tyrant.

it

Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may please your honour.

Duke. What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause? Bawd. My lord, this is one Lucio's information Lucio. No,-pardon; 'tis a secret must be against me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with lock'd within the teeth and the lips; but this I can child by him in the duke's time, he promised her let you understand,-The greater file of the sub-marriage; his child is a year and a quarter old, jeet held the duke to be wise.

Duke. Wise? why, no question but he was. Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.

4

come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me.

Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much license: -let him be called before us.-Away with her to Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mis- prison: Go to; no more words. [Exeunt Bawd and taking; the very stream of his life, and the business Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, alter'd, Claudio must die to-morrow; let him be give him a better proclamation. Let him be but furnished with divines, and have all charitable testimonied in his own bringings forth, and he shall paration: if my brother wrought by my pity, it appear to the envious, a scholar, a statesman, and should not be so with him. a soldier: therefore, you speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd' in your malice.

Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him. Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love.

Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know. Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return (as our prayers are he may,) let me desire you to make your answer before him: if it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: I'am bound to call upon you; and, I pray you, your

name?

Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this again.

Lucio. I'll be hang'd first: thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this: can'st thou tell, if Claudio die to-morrow, or no?

pre

Prov. So please you, this friar hath been with him,
and advised him for the entertainment of death.
Escal. Good even, good father.
Duke, Bliss and goodness on you!
Escal. Of whence are you?

Duke. Not of this country, though my chance is

now

To use it for my time: am a brother
Of gracious order, late come from the sce,
In special business from his holiness.

Escal. What news abroad i' the world?
Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever
on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it;
novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to
be constant in any kind of course, as it is virtuous
to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce
truth enough alive, to make societies secure; but
security enough, to make fellowships accurs'd:
much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world.
This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news.
pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke?
Escal. One, that, above all other strifes, contend-
ed especially to know himself.

I

Duke. What pleasure was he given to?

Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which profess'd to make Duke. Why should he die, sir? him rejoice; a gentleman of all temperance. But Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-dish. leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again: prove prosperous: and let me desire to know how this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province you find Claudio prepared. I am made to underwith continency; sparrows must not build in his stand, that you have lent him visitation. house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke Duke. He professes to have received no sinister yet would have dark deeds darkly answer'd; he measures from his judge, but most willingly humwould never bring them to light: would he were bles himself to the determination of justice: yet return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his untrussing. Farewell, good friar ; I pr'ythee, pray frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I2 for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and mutton on Fridays. He's now past it; yet, and I now is he resolved to die.

say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though Escal. You have paid the heavens your function, she smelt brown bread and garlic: say, that I said and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. so. Farewell. [Exit. have labour'd for the poor gentleman, to the cx

(1) Suspected. (2) The majority of his subjects. (3) Ionsiderate. (4) Guided. (5) Opponent.

(6) Have a wench.
(8) Satisfied.

(7) Transgress.