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Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].

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SCENE I. The PRISON. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost.

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

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

Duke.
Be absolute for death: or death, or life,

-- 398 --

Shall thereby be the sweeter. ¹ ^note

Reason thus with life;
&plquo;If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing,
&plquo;That none but fools would reck; a breath thou art,
&plquo;Servile to all the skiey influences,
&plquo;That do this habitation, where thou keep'st,
&plquo;Hourly afflict; ² ^note

meerly thou art Death's Fool;
&plquo;For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
&plquo;And yet runn'st tow'rd him still. ³ ^note

Thou art not noble;

-- 399 --

&plquo;For all th' accommodations, that thou bear'st,
&plquo;Are nurs'd by baseness: thou'rt by no means valiant;
&plquo;For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
&plquo;Of a poor worm. ⁴ ^note

Thy best of Rest is sleep,
&plquo;And that thou oft provok'st; yet grosly fear'st
&plquo;Thy death, which is no more. Thou'rt not thy self;
&plquo;For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains,
&plquo;That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
&plquo;For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;
&plquo;And what thou hast forget'st. Thou art not certain;
&plquo;For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
&plquo;After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor;
&plquo;For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
&plquo;Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
&plquo;And death unloadeth thee. Friend thou hast none;
&plquo;For thy own bowels, which do call thee Sire,
&plquo;The meer effusion of thy proper loins,
&plquo;Do curse the Gout, Serpigo, and the Rheum,
&plquo;For ending thee no sooner. ⁵ ^note

Thou hast nor youth, nor age;

-- 400 --

&plquo;But as it were an after-dinner's sleep,
&plquo;Dreaming on both; for pall'd, thy blazed youth
&plquo;Becomes assuaged, and doth beg the alms
&plquo;Of palsied Eld; and when thou'rt old and rich,
&plquo;Thou hast neither ⁶ ^noteheat, affection, limb, nor bounty
&plquo;To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this,
&plquo;That bears the name of life? yet in this life
&plquo;Lye hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear,
&plquo;That makes these odds all even.&prquo;

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 wish deserves a welcome.

-- 401 --

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.
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