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
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life;
&plquo;If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
&plquo;That none but fools would keep; a breath thou art,
&plquo;Servile to all the skiey influences;
&plquo;That dost this habitation where thou keep'st
&plquo;Hourly afflict: 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. Thou art not noble,
&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. 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 exists 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, forgett'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 hast thou none;
&plquo;For thine 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. Thou hast nor youth, nor age;
&plquo;But as it were an after-dinner's sleep,
&plquo;Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
&plquo;Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
&plquo;Of palsied † ^noteeld; and when thou'rt old and rich,
&plquo;Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty
&plquo;To make thy riches pleasant. What's 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.

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.

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. 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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