University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Prison.
Enter Duke, Fryer, and Claudio.
Duke.
Then you still hope a Pardon from Lord Angelo?

Claud.
The Miserable have no Ease but Hope.
I hope to live; but am prepar'd to die.

Duke.
Be absolute for Death, for Death or Life
Will so the sweeter be—if you lose Life,
You lose a thing, that none but fools would keep:
A Breath that's subject to a thousand chances,
That hourly pains ev'n us that wou'd preserve it.
We are deaths Fools, whom while we strive to shun
We hasten to; Cowards, we fear the tender fork
Of a poor Worm; the best of Rest is Sleep;
That we provoke, tho grosly fear our Death,
Which is no more.

Fry.
Happy we're not,
For what we've not we vainly strive to gain,
And what we have, forget; tho' rich we're poor,
For like an Ass, whose Back with Ingots bows,
We bear our heavy Riches but a Journey,
And Death unlades us.

Duke.
Friends we've none:
Our very Off-spring cursing our Distempers
For ending us no sooner. We have not Youth nor Age,
But as it were an after Dinners sleep
Dreaming upon both; Youth has no thought,
And Age no heat or taste to relish Life.
Yet Life we cherish that's thus fill'd with woe;
But fear kind Death that makes these odds all ev'n.

Clau.
To sue to live, I find I seek to dye,
And seeking Death find Life.

Enter Isabella.
Isa.
Peace here, and Grace.

Duke.
That wish deserves a Welcome.

Clau.
My Sister.

Duke.
E'r long, my Son, again I'll see you.

Clau.
Most holy Sir, I thank you.

Duke.
Father Thomas,
Let us retire, I wou'd conceal'd orehear 'em.

Clau.
Well Sister, what's the Comfort?

[Exit with Fryer.
Isa.
Why as all worldly Comforts use to be
Lord Angelo having Affairs to heav'n,
Intends you for his swift Ambassadour;
Therefore your best appointment make with speed,
To morrow you set out.

Claud.
Is there no Remedy?

Isa.
Yes, Brother, you may live.
There is a devilish mercy in the Judge,
That will if you'l implore it, free your Life,
But fetter you till Death.

Claud.
Perpetual durance?

Isa.
Tis worse, more painful too, than Racks and Tortures,
For 'tis a rack of Mind.

Clau.
But of what Nature?

Isa.
'Tis such, as shou'd you give it your consent,
Wou'd leave you stript of all your wreaths of War,
And shew you naked to the scornful World.

Clau.
Let me know my Doom.

Isa.
If I cou'd fear thee Claudio, I should weep,
Lest thou a shameful life should'st now prefer,
And six or seven short Winters more respect,
Than a perpetual Honour. Dar'st thou dye?
The sense of Death is most in Apprehension,
And the small Beetle when we tread on it
In corporal Sufferance, finds a pang as great,
As when a Gyant dyes.

Clau.
Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can Resolution fetch
From flowing tenderness? If I must dye,
I'll welcome Darkness as a shining Bride,
And hug it in my Arms.

Isa.
There spoke my Brother, there my Fathers Grave
Sent forth a chearful Voice, yes, you must dye;
Thou art too Noble, to preserve thy Life
By such base means. This outward rigid Saint,
Does in his gracious Looks disguise the Devil.
His filth within being cast, he wou'd appear
A pond as foul as Hell.

Clau.
What Angelo?

Isa.
Oh! he is uglier, than a Fiend confess'd:
Speak Claudio, cou'd you think it, you may live
If to his Lust I'd Sacrifice my Honour.

Clau.
Impossible! it cannot be!—Hypocrite.

Isa.
Yes, he that wou'd not hear your Innocence,
Would quit you now of the most horrid Guilt,
Give you a Licence to Sin on securely,
Wou'd I consent to be more black than he is.
This Night's the time that he would have me do,
What I abhor to name, or else you dye
To Morrow.

Clau.
By Heav'n thou shalt not do it.

Isa.
Oh! were it but my Life, dear Claudio,
I'd throw it down for your Deliverance,
Without the least delay.

Clau.
Thanks my Dear Sister.

Isa.
Since nothing but my Honour can Redeem you,
Prepare to dye to Morrow.

Clau.
Hah!—to Morrow?
But Isabella!

Isa.
What says my Brother?

Clau.
Death is a fearful thing!

Isa.
But Infamy more hateful.
Sure you have study'd what it is to dye.

Clau.
Oh! Sister, tis to go we know not whither;
To lye a kneaded Clod in the dark Grave,
And have this sensible warm motion end.
Or rotting get another of crawling Worms;
That springs from every part of our Corruption.
The Spirit perhaps must bathe in fiery Floods,
Or shiver in shrilling Regions of rib'd Ice:
Or be imprison'd in the viewless Winds;
And blown with restless Violence round about
This pendant World, or if condemn'd like those
Whom our uncertain Thoughts imagine howling.
Oh! 'tis too horrible, and the most loath'd Life,
That Age or Ach, or Want, or Imprisonment
Can lay on Nature is a Paradise,
To what we fear of Death.

Isa.
Alass! alass!

Clau.
Ah! My Dear Sister, I would live!

Isa.
Ha! Live d'ye say? O you base one!
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 thy own Sisters shame? But sure thou art not
My Brother! Dye, Perish, if but my word
Would save thy loathsom Life, I wou'd not speak it.
I'll pay a thousand Prayers for thy Deaths,
But not a word to save thee.

Clau.
But hear me.

Isa.
Oh! Fie! fie! fie! how can I think thou art Innocent?

Clau.
Your over-nicety of Honour feeds
Your fancy with strange ugly forms,
That have no real Existence;
But by excess of Vertue you offend.
I said indeed, that I wou'd Live, what then?
Is't not the Voice of Nature that abhors
The fatal Separation? Then where's the Crime?

Isa.
None but in living by a Crime.

Claud.
You're right; but eagerly you cut off half my Words,
Which had imply'd that Truth: No,—my Sister,—
I have no thoughts of living on your Ruin.
My Honour's not so shrunk with my low Fortune;
And what I had to add, was for my Juliet,
That if you e'er did love your hapless, Brother,
Have any share in our dead Mother's Pity;
You'd take the tender Mourner to your Bosome,
And comfort her sad Soul for my Misfortunes.

Isa.
First, I must ask your Pardon, injur'd Claudio,
For this Offence of Jealousie of Honour.
And now I do most solemnly assure thee,
I will invite her to my Breast within
A Cloyster'd Shade, where we with mutual Grief,
Will mourn in sad Remembrance your Loss.

Claud.
O! rather teach her to forget that Loss.
Remembrance will keep her Griefs still waking,
Bear her this fatal Pledge of our first Vows.
[Gives a Ring.
Tell her how hard I think the Tyrant's Will,
That will not let us take our last Farewel:
Tell her, I have no Pang to leave this World,
But that of leaving her: That fond Desire
Of her, so heavy sits upon my Soul
It cloggs its Pinions, and retards its Flight.
Tell her;—But oh! I never shou'd have done,
Shou'd I pursue the Dictates of my Heart;
Which, oh! is full of tender faithful Love.
Farewel—to happy Cloysters, both retire;
And there—O, may you ever live above
The Rage of Pow'r and Injuries of Love.

[Exit.
Enter Duke and Frier.
Isa.
Farewel, my Brother; noble Youth, farewel!
And with thee all my Cares of earthly Things.

[is going.
Duke.
Vouchsafe a Word with you, good Sister, but one Word.

Isa.
What is your Will?

Duke.
What I hope will be yours too.

Isa.
My Sorrows, Father, hasten me from hence.
I beg you wou'd be brief.

Duke.
The Hand that made you fair, has made you good.
Th' Assault that Angelo has giv'n your Vertue
Chance to my Knowledge brings. I have o'er-heard you,
And am amaz'd at Angelo's Hypocrisie.

Isa.
How is the noble Duke deceiv'd in him?
If he return, my Injuries shall speak:
To him I will discover the Impostor.

Duke.
That may do well; but he'll evade the Charge,
By vouching it a Trial, or denying all:
But hearken to me, will propose a way
Shall save your Brother and not injure you,
And get a Proof that will confound his Cunning,
If you will join and do what I propose.

Isa.
O, let me hear you speak, I will do all
That Virtue will permit. Good Father, speak.

Duke.
Vertue is bold, and Goodness never fearful.
You've heard of Mariana, Frederick's Sister,
Who, with her Brother, lost her Hopes and Fortune.

Isa.
Both sunk at Sea, or I mistake.

Duke.
Ev'n so.—This Angelo, then but low in Fortune,
In Frederick's Absence won this Maid to love him.
And fearing Frederick's Aversion to the Match
Shou'd hinder him from doing what he'd promis'd,
Marry'd her in private, none being by
But his own Creatures: but that same Day
News came of Frederick's Ship being cast away,
And with it, him, and all her Hopes of Wealth.

Isa.
Thus far how like my Brother's State!

Duke.
But no farther. This forbid Man convey'd
Away all proof of what was done,
And thus has left her a poor mournful Widow,
Maid and Wife.

Isa.
O, base ungrateful Villain!

Duke.
She loves him still, ungrateful as he is.
Go you again then to Lord Angelo:
Seem as if won, and make the dark Appointment.
She shall supply your Place: the Act is just
And innocent, and must save your Brother.

Isa.
But is she marry'd?

Fryer.
We both assure you that: You sure may trust us.

Isa.
I dare not doubt you. It grows near the time,
That he appointed me to come again.

Duke.
Hast you to him; and from him to us:
You'll find us at St. Luke's at th' Moated Grange,
With poor dejected Mariana.

Isa.
Your Blessings, and I'm gone.

[Exit.
Duke.
I have not patience of Concealment longer:
Yet I must stay to see the black Event:
But I have sent him Letters of my coming,
And that at Noon to morrow I reach Turin.
Now, my Good Father, let us haste to Mariana.

[Exeunt ambo.
Scene changes to the Hall in the Palace.
Enter Angelo, Escalus, and Attendants.
Esc.
All the Duke's Letters are contradictory.

Ang.
In most unev'n and distracted manner:
His Letters show much like to Madness.
Pray Heav'n my Fears prove vain.

Esc.
To morrow Noon will shew it.
My Lord, if we have not tir'd you to day
With our harmonious and officious Love,
I hope you will partake this last Effort,
That may compose your Thoughts for pleasing Slumbers.

Ang.
I am not so unjust, Lord Escalus,
To slight my Friends Endeavours to delight me.
Besides, it is my Royal Master's Birth-day;
And that excuses this gay Loose of Pleasure.
Let them begin:—No Isabella yet?

[They all sit, and the Third Musick. Before 'tis quite done, Isabella enters.
The Third Entertainment.
SCENE, The Ships.
Enter Sorceress and VVitches. Enter Saylors.
Sorc.
Come away Fellow-Saylors, your Anchors be weighing,
Time and Tide will admit no delaying.
Take a Bouze short; leave your Nymphs on the Shore,
And silence their Mourning
With Vows of returning,
But never intending to visit them more.

The Saylors dance.
Sorc.
See the Flags and the Streamers curling,
Anchors weighing, Sails unfurling,
Phœbus pale deluding Beams
Gilding more deceitful Streams.
Our Plot has took,
The Queen forsook: Ho, ho, ho.
Elisa's ruin'd; ho, ho, ho. Next Motion
Must be to storm her Lover on the Ocean,
From the Ruins of other our Pleasure we borrow:
Elisa bleeds to Night, and Carthage flames to morrow.

Chor.
Destruction's our Delight, Delight our greatest Sorrow:
Elisa dies to Night, and Carthage flames to morrow.

[A Dance of Wizards and VVitches.
[Exeunt.
Enter Queen Dido, Belinda and Train.
Dido.
Your Council all is urg'd in vain.
To Earth and Heaven I will complain.
To Earth and Heaven why do I call?
Earth and Heaven conspire my Fall.
To Fate I sue, of other means bereft,
The only Refuge for the Wretched left.

Enter Æneas.
Bel.
See, Madam, where the Prince appears,
Such Sorrow in his Looks he bears
As wou'd convince you still he's true.

Æn.
What shall lost Æneas do?
How, Royal Fair, shall I impart?
The Gods decree, and tell you we must part.

Dido.
Thus on the Fatal Bank of Nile
Weeps the deceitful Crocodile.
Thus Hypocrites that Murder act,
Make Heav'n and Gods the Authors of the fact.

Æn.
By all that's Good,

Dido.
By all that's Good no more:
All that's Good you have forswore.
To your promis'd Empire fly,
And let forsaken Dido dye.

Æn.
In spight of Jove's Command I stay,
Offend the Gods, and Love obey.

Dido.
No, faithless Man, thy Course pursue;
I'm now resolv'd as well as you:
No Repentance shall reclaim
The injur'd Dido's slighted Flame:
For 'tis enough, whate'er you now decree,
That you had once a Thought of leaving me.

Æn.
Let Jove say what he will, I'll stay.
[Exit Æn.

Dido.
Away.
To death I'll fly, if longer you delay;
But Death, alas, I cannot shun,
Death must come when he is gone.

Cho.
Great minds against themselves Conspire,
And shun the Cure they most desire.

Dido.
Thy Hand Belinda, Darkness shades me,
On thy Bosom let me Rest,
More I would, but Death invades me,
Death is now a welcome Guest,
When I am laid in Earth, may wrongs create
No trouble in thy Breast
Remember me, but ah! forget my Fate,

Cho.
With drooping Wings you Cupids come,
Soft and Gentle as her Heart,
Keep here your Watch and never part.

Ange.
I see my Ev'ning Star of Love appear,
This is no place to try my last Effort;
I so desire, that Force, if fair means fail,
Must give me ease. Wou'd you ought with me?

Isa.
I come my Lord on the same humble Suit.

Ange.
This is no place to hear you; follow me.
Now my kind Stars assist my fierce Desires
I ask no other Influence from your fires
O! Love! how much thy borrow'd shapes disguise,
Ev'n to themselves, the Valiant and the Wise.

[Exeunt Omnes.