_Prov._ And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister. 50 _Duke._ Provost, a word with you. _Prov._ As many as you please. _Duke._ Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed. [_Exeunt Duke and Provost._ _Claud._ Now, sister, what's the comfort? 55 _Isab._ 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: 60 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: 65 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, 70 To a determined 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, 75 Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension; 75 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, 80 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 85 In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil; His filth within being cast, he would appear 90 A pond as deep as hell. _Claud._ The prenzie Angelo! _Isab._ O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio?-- If I would yield him my virginity, 95 Thou mightst be freed. _Claud._ O heavens! it cannot be. _Isab._ 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. _Claud._ Thou shalt not do't. 100