Measure for Measure

1Escalus.

2My lord.

3Of government the properties to unfold,

4Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse;

5Since I am put to know that your own science

6Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice

7My strength can give you: then no more remains,

8But that to your sufficiency as your Worth is able,

9And let them work. The nature of our people,

10Our city's institutions, and the terms

11For common justice, you're as pregnant in

12As art and practise hath enriched any

13That we remember. There is our commission,

14From which we would not have you warp. Call hither,

15I say, bid come before us Angelo.

16What figure of us think you he will bear?

17For you must know, we have with special soul

18Elected him our absence to supply,

19Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love,

20And given his deputation all the organs

21Of our own power: what think you of it?

22If any in Vienna be of worth

23To undergo such ample grace and honour,

24It is Lord Angelo.

25Look where he comes.

26Always obedient to your grace's will,

27I come to know your pleasure.

28Angelo,

29There is a kind of character in thy life,

30That to the observer doth thy history

31Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings

32Are not thine own so proper as to waste

33Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.

34Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,

35Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues

36Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike

37As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd

38But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends

39The smallest scruple of her excellence

40But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines

41Herself the glory of a creditor,

42Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech

43To one that can my part in him advertise;

44Hold therefore, Angelo:--

45In our remove be thou at full ourself;

46Mortality and mercy in Vienna

47Live in thy tongue and heart: old Escalus,

48Though first in question, is thy secondary.

49Take thy commission.

50Now, good my lord,

51Let there be some more test made of my metal,

52Before so noble and so great a figure

53Be stamp'd upon it.

54No more evasion:

55We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice

56Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours.

57Our haste from hence is of so quick condition

58That it prefers itself and leaves unquestion'd

59Matters of needful value. We shall write to you,

60As time and our concernings shall importune,

61How it goes with us, and do look to know

62What doth befall you here. So, fare you well;

63To the hopeful execution do I leave you

64Of your commissions.

65Yet give leave, my lord,

66That we may bring you something on the way.

67My haste may not admit it;

68Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do

69With any scruple; your scope is as mine own

70So to enforce or qualify the laws

71As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand:

72I'll privily away. I love the people,

73But do not like to stage me to their eyes:

74Through it do well, I do not relish well

75Their loud applause and Aves vehement;

76Nor do I think the man of safe discretion

77That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.

78The heavens give safety to your purposes!

79Lead forth and bring you back in happiness!

80I thank you. Fare you well.

81I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave

82To have free speech with you; and it concerns me

83To look into the bottom of my place:

84A power I have, but of what strength and nature

85I am not yet instructed.

86'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together,

87And we may soon our satisfaction have

88Touching that point.

89I'll wait upon your honour.

1If the duke with the other dukes come not to

2composition with the King of Hungary, why then all

3the dukes fall upon the king.

4Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of

5Hungary's!

6Amen.

7Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate, that

8went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scraped

9one out of the table.

10'Thou shalt not steal'?

11Ay, that he razed.

12Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and

13all the rest from their functions: they put forth

14to steal. There's not a soldier of us all, that, in

15the thanksgiving before meat, do relish the petition

16well that prays for peace.

17I never heard any soldier dislike it.

18I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where

19grace was said.

20No? a dozen times at least.

21What, in metre?

22In any proportion or in any language.

23I think, or in any religion.

24Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all

25controversy: as, for example, thou thyself art a

26wicked villain, despite of all grace.

27Well, there went but a pair of shears between us.

28I grant; as there may between the lists and the

29velvet. Thou art the list.

30And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet; thou'rt

31a three-piled piece, I warrant thee: I had as lief

32be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou

33art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak

34feelingly now?

35I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful

36feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own

37confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I

38live, forget to drink after thee.

39I think I have done myself wrong, have I not?

40Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free.

41Behold, behold. where Madam Mitigation comes! I

42have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to--

43To what, I pray?

44Judge.

45To three thousand dolours a year.

46Ay, and more.

47A French crown more.

48Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou

49art full of error; I am sound.

50Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as

51things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow;

52impiety has made a feast of thee.

53How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica?

54Well, well; there's one yonder arrested and carried

55to prison was worth five thousand of you all.

56Who's that, I pray thee?

57Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.

58Claudio to prison? 'tis not so.

59Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested, saw

60him carried away; and, which is more, within these

61three days his head to be chopped off.

62But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so.

63Art thou sure of this?

64I am too sure of it: and it is for getting Madam

65Julietta with child.

66Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet me two

67hours since, and he was ever precise in

68promise-keeping.

69Besides, you know, it draws something near to the

70speech we had to such a purpose.

71But, most of all, agreeing with the proclamation.

72Away! let's go learn the truth of it.

73Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what

74with the gallows and what with poverty, I am

75custom-shrunk.

76How now! what's the news with you?

77Yonder man is carried to prison.

78Well; what has he done?

79A woman.

80But what's his offence?

81Groping for trouts in a peculiar river.

82What, is there a maid with child by him?

83No, but there's a woman with maid by him. You have

84not heard of the proclamation, have you?

85What proclamation, man?

86All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down.

87And what shall become of those in the city?

88They shall stand for seed: they had gone down too,

89but that a wise burgher put in for them.

90But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be

91pulled down?

92To the ground, mistress.

93Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth!

94What shall become of me?

95Come; fear you not: good counsellors lack no

96clients: though you change your place, you need not

97change your trade; I'll be your tapster still.

98Courage! there will be pity taken on you: you that

99have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you

100will be considered.

101What's to do here, Thomas tapster? let's withdraw.

102Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to

103prison; and there's Madam Juliet.

104Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world?

105Bear me to prison, where I am committed.

106I do it not in evil disposition,

107But from Lord Angelo by special charge.

108Thus can the demigod Authority

109Make us pay down for our offence by weight

110The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will;

111On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.

112Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint?

113From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty:

114As surfeit is the father of much fast,

115So every scope by the immoderate use

116Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue,

117Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,

118A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die.

119If could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would

120send for certain of my creditors: and yet, to say

121the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom

122as the morality of imprisonment. What's thy

123offence, Claudio?

124What but to speak of would offend again.

125What, is't murder?

126No.

127Lechery?

128Call it so.

129Away, sir! you must go.

130One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you.

131A hundred, if they'll do you any good.

132Is lechery so look'd after?

133Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract

134I got possession of Julietta's bed:

135You know the lady; she is fast my wife,

136Save that we do the denunciation lack

137Of outward order: this we came not to,

138Only for propagation of a dower

139Remaining in the coffer of her friends,

140From whom we thought it meet to hide our love

141Till time had made them for us. But it chances

142The stealth of our most mutual entertainment

143With character too gross is writ on Juliet.

144With child, perhaps?

145Unhappily, even so.

146And the new deputy now for the duke--

147Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness,

148Or whether that the body public be

149A horse whereon the governor doth ride,

150Who, newly in the seat, that it may know

151He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;

152Whether the tyranny be in his place,

153Or in his emmence that fills it up,

154I stagger in:--but this new governor

155Awakes me all the enrolled penalties

156Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall

157So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round

158And none of them been worn; and, for a name,

159Now puts the drowsy and neglected act

160Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name.

161I warrant it is: and thy head stands so tickle on

162thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love,

163may sigh it off. Send after the duke and appeal to

164him.

165I have done so, but he's not to be found.

166I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service:

167This day my sister should the cloister enter

168And there receive her approbation:

169Acquaint her with the danger of my state:

170Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends

171To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him:

172I have great hope in that; for in her youth

173There is a prone and speechless dialect,

174Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art

175When she will play with reason and discourse,

176And well she can persuade.

177I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the

178like, which else would stand under grievous

179imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I

180would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a

181game of tick-tack. I'll to her.

182I thank you, good friend Lucio.

183Within two hours.

184Come, officer, away!

1No, holy father; throw away that thought;

2Believe not that the dribbling dart of love

3Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee

4To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose

5More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends

6Of burning youth.

7May your grace speak of it?

8My holy sir, none better knows than you

9How I have ever loved the life removed

10And held in idle price to haunt assemblies

11Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.

12I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo,

13A man of stricture and firm abstinence,

14My absolute power and place here in Vienna,

15And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;

16For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,

17And so it is received. Now, pious sir,

18You will demand of me why I do this?

19Gladly, my lord.

20We have strict statutes and most biting laws.

21The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds,

22Which for this nineteen years we have let slip;

23Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,

24That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,

25Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch,

26Only to stick it in their children's sight

27For terror, not to use, in time the rod

28Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees,

29Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;

30And liberty plucks justice by the nose;

31The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart

32Goes all decorum.

33It rested in your grace

34To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased:

35And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd

36Than in Lord Angelo.

37I do fear, too dreadful:

38Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope,

39'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them

40For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done,

41When evil deeds have their permissive pass

42And not the punishment. Therefore indeed, my father,

43I have on Angelo imposed the office;

44Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home,

45And yet my nature never in the fight

46To do in slander. And to behold his sway,

47I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,

48Visit both prince and people: therefore, I prithee,

49Supply me with the habit and instruct me

50How I may formally in person bear me

51Like a true friar. More reasons for this action

52At our more leisure shall I render you;

53Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise;

54Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses

55That his blood flows, or that his appetite

56Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see,

57If power change purpose, what our seemers be.

1And have you nuns no farther privileges?

2Are not these large enough?

3Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more;

4But rather wishing a more strict restraint

5Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.

6[Within] Ho! Peace be in this place!

7Who's that which calls?

8It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella,

9Turn you the key, and know his business of him;

10You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn.

11When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men

12But in the presence of the prioress:

13Then, if you speak, you must not show your face,

14Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.

15He calls again; I pray you, answer him.

16Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls

17Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses

18Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me

19As bring me to the sight of Isabella,

20A novice of this place and the fair sister

21To her unhappy brother Claudio?

22Why 'her unhappy brother'? let me ask,

23The rather for I now must make you know

24I am that Isabella and his sister.

25Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you:

26Not to be weary with you, he's in prison.

27Woe me! for what?

28For that which, if myself might be his judge,

29He should receive his punishment in thanks:

30He hath got his friend with child.

31Sir, make me not your story.

32It is true.

33I would not--though 'tis my familiar sin

34With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest,

35Tongue far from heart--play with all virgins so:

36I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted.

37By your renouncement an immortal spirit,

38And to be talk'd with in sincerity,

39As with a saint.

40You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.

41Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus:

42Your brother and his lover have embraced:

43As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time

44That from the seedness the bare fallow brings

45To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb

46Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.

47Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet?

48Is she your cousin?

49Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names

50By vain though apt affection.

51She it is.

52O, let him marry her.

53This is the point.

54The duke is very strangely gone from hence;

55Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,

56In hand and hope of action: but we do learn

57By those that know the very nerves of state,

58His givings-out were of an infinite distance

59From his true-meant design. Upon his place,

60And with full line of his authority,

61Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood

62Is very snow-broth; one who never feels

63The wanton stings and motions of the sense,

64But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge

65With profits of the mind, study and fast.

66He--to give fear to use and liberty,

67Which have for long run by the hideous law,

68As mice by lions--hath pick'd out an act,

69Under whose heavy sense your brother's life

70Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it;

71And follows close the rigour of the statute,

72To make him an example. All hope is gone,

73Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer

74To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of business

75'Twixt you and your poor brother.

76Doth he so seek his life?

77Has censured him

78Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath

79A warrant for his execution.

80Alas! what poor ability's in me

81To do him good?

82Assay the power you have.

83My power? Alas, I doubt--

84Our doubts are traitors

85And make us lose the good we oft might win

86By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo,

87And let him learn to know, when maidens sue,

88Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,

89All their petitions are as freely theirs

90As they themselves would owe them.

91I'll see what I can do.

92But speedily.

93I will about it straight;

94No longer staying but to give the mother

95Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you:

96Commend me to my brother: soon at night

97I'll send him certain word of my success.

98I take my leave of you.

99Good sir, adieu.

1We must not make a scarecrow of the law,

2Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,

3And let it keep one shape, till custom make it

4Their perch and not their terror.

5Ay, but yet

6Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,

7Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman

8Whom I would save, had a most noble father!

9Let but your honour know,

10Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,

11That, in the working of your own affections,

12Had time cohered with place or place with wishing,

13Or that the resolute acting of your blood

14Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose,

15Whether you had not sometime in your life

16Err'd in this point which now you censure him,

17And pull'd the law upon you.

18'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,

19Another thing to fall. I not deny,

20The jury, passing on the prisoner's life,

21May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two

22Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice,

23That justice seizes: what know the laws

24That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant,

25The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't

26Because we see it; but what we do not see

27We tread upon, and never think of it.

28You may not so extenuate his offence

29For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,

30When I, that censure him, do so offend,

31Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,

32And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.

33Be it as your wisdom will.

34Where is the provost?

35Here, if it like your honour.

36See that Claudio

37Be executed by nine to-morrow morning:

38Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared;

39For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage.

40[Aside] Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all!

41Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:

42Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none:

43And some condemned for a fault alone.

44Come, bring them away: if these be good people in

45a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in

46common houses, I know no law: bring them away.

47How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter?

48If it Please your honour, I am the poor duke's

49constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon

50justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good

51honour two notorious benefactors.

52Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are

53they not malefactors?

54If it? please your honour, I know not well what they

55are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure

56of; and void of all profanation in the world that

57good Christians ought to have.

58This comes off well; here's a wise officer.

59Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is your

60name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow?

61He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow.

62What are you, sir?

63He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that

64serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they

65say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she

66professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too.

67How know you that?

68My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,--

69How? thy wife?

70Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,--

71Dost thou detest her therefore?

72I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as

73she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house,

74it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.

75How dost thou know that, constable?

76Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman

77cardinally given, might have been accused in

78fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there.

79By the woman's means?

80Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means: but as she

81spit in his face, so she defied him.

82Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.

83Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable

84man; prove it.

85Do you hear how he misplaces?

86Sir, she came in great with child; and longing,

87saving your honour's reverence, for stewed prunes;

88sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very

89distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a

90dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen

91such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very

92good dishes,--

93Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir.

94No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in

95the right: but to the point. As I say, this

96Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and

97being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for

98prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said,

99Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the

100rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very

101honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could

102not give you three-pence again.

103No, indeed.

104Very well: you being then, if you be remembered,

105cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,--

106Ay, so I did indeed.

107Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be

108remembered, that such a one and such a one were past

109cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very

110good diet, as I told you,--

111All this is true.

112Why, very well, then,--

113Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What

114was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to

115complain of? Come me to what was done to her.

116Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.

117No, sir, nor I mean it not.

118Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's

119leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth

120here, sir; a man of four-score pound a year; whose

121father died at Hallowmas: was't not at Hallowmas,

122Master Froth?

123All-hallond eve.

124Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir,

125sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in

126the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed you have a delight

127to sit, have you not?

128I have so; because it is an open room and good for winter.

129Why, very well, then; I hope here be truths.

130This will last out a night in Russia,

131When nights are longest there: I'll take my leave.

132And leave you to the hearing of the cause;

133Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all.

134I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship.

135Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow's wife, once more?

136Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once.

137I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.

138I beseech your honour, ask me.

139Well, sir; what did this gentleman to her?

140I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face.

141Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a

142good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face?

143Ay, sir, very well.

144Nay; I beseech you, mark it well.

145Well, I do so.

146Doth your honour see any harm in his face?

147Why, no.

148I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst

149thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the

150worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the

151constable's wife any harm? I would know that of

152your honour.

153He's in the right. Constable, what say you to it?

154First, an it like you, the house is a respected

155house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his

156mistress is a respected woman.

157By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected

158person than any of us all.

159Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the

160time has yet to come that she was ever respected

161with man, woman, or child.

162Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.

163Which is the wiser here? Justice or Iniquity? Is

164this true?

165O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked

166Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married

167to her! If ever I was respected with her, or she

168with me, let not your worship think me the poor

169duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or

170I'll have mine action of battery on thee.

171If he took you a box o' the ear, you might have your

172action of slander too.

173Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is't

174your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff?

175Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him

176that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him

177continue in his courses till thou knowest what they

178are.

179Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou

180wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee: thou art

181to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue.

182Where were you born, friend?

183Here in Vienna, sir.

184Are you of fourscore pounds a year?

185Yes, an't please you, sir.

186So. What trade are you of, sir?

187Tapster; a poor widow's tapster.

188Your mistress' name?

189Mistress Overdone.

190Hath she had any more than one husband?

191Nine, sir; Overdone by the last.

192Nine! Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master

193Froth, I would not have you acquainted with

194tapsters: they will draw you, Master Froth, and you

195will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no

196more of you.

197I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never

198come into any room in a tap-house, but I am drawn

199in.

200Well, no more of it, Master Froth: farewell.

201Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What's your

202name, Master tapster?

203Pompey.

204What else?

205Bum, sir.

206Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you;

207so that in the beastliest sense you are Pompey the

208Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey,

209howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you

210not? come, tell me true: it shall be the better for you.

211Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live.

212How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What

213do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?

214If the law would allow it, sir.

215But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall

216not be allowed in Vienna.

217Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the

218youth of the city?

219No, Pompey.

220Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then.

221If your worship will take order for the drabs and

222the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.

223There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you:

224it is but heading and hanging.

225If you head and hang all that offend that way but

226for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a

227commission for more heads: if this law hold in

228Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it

229after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this

230come to pass, say Pompey told you so.

231Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your

232prophecy, hark you: I advise you, let me not find

233you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever;

234no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey,

235I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd

236Caesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall

237have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

238I thank your worship for your good counsel:

239but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall

240better determine.

241Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade:

242The valiant heart is not whipt out of his trade.

243Come hither to me, Master Elbow; come hither, Master

244constable. How long have you been in this place of constable?

245Seven year and a half, sir.

246I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had

247continued in it some time. You say, seven years together?

248And a half, sir.

249Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do you

250wrong to put you so oft upon 't: are there not men

251in your ward sufficient to serve it?

252Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they

253are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I

254do it for some piece of money, and go through with

255all.

256Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven,

257the most sufficient of your parish.

258To your worship's house, sir?

259To my house. Fare you well.

260What's o'clock, think you?

261Eleven, sir.

262I pray you home to dinner with me.

263I humbly thank you.

264It grieves me for the death of Claudio;

265But there's no remedy.

266Lord Angelo is severe.

267It is but needful:

268Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;

269Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:

270But yet,--poor Claudio! There is no remedy.

271Come, sir.

1He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight

2I'll tell him of you.

3Pray you, do.

4I'll know

5His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas,

6He hath but as offended in a dream!

7All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he

8To die for't!

9Now, what's the matter. Provost?

10Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow?

11Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order?

12Why dost thou ask again?

13Lest I might be too rash:

14Under your good correction, I have seen,

15When, after execution, judgment hath

16Repented o'er his doom.

17Go to; let that be mine:

18Do you your office, or give up your place,

19And you shall well be spared.

20I crave your honour's pardon.

21What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?

22She's very near her hour.

23Dispose of her

24To some more fitter place, and that with speed.

25Here is the sister of the man condemn'd

26Desires access to you.

27Hath he a sister?

28Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,

29And to be shortly of a sisterhood,

30If not already.

31Well, let her be admitted.

32See you the fornicatress be removed:

33Let have needful, but not lavish, means;

34There shall be order for't.

35God save your honour!

36Stay a little while.

37You're welcome: what's your will?

38I am a woeful suitor to your honour,

39Please but your honour hear me.

40Well; what's your suit?

41There is a vice that most I do abhor,

42And most desire should meet the blow of justice;

43For which I would not plead, but that I must;

44For which I must not plead, but that I am

45At war 'twixt will and will not.

46Well; the matter?

47I have a brother is condemn'd to die:

48I do beseech you, let it be his fault,

49And not my brother.

50[Aside] Heaven give thee moving graces!

51Condemn the fault and not the actor of it?

52Why, every fault's condemn'd ere it be done:

53Mine were the very cipher of a function,

54To fine the faults whose fine stands in record,

55And let go by the actor.

56O just but severe law!

57I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour!

58[Aside to ISABELLA] Give't not o'er so: to him

59again, entreat him;

60Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown:

61You are too cold; if you should need a pin,

62You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:

63To him, I say!

64Must he needs die?

65Maiden, no remedy.

66Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,

67And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.

68I will not do't.

69But can you, if you would?

70Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.

71But might you do't, and do the world no wrong,

72If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse

73A s mine is to him?

74He's sentenced; 'tis too late.

75[Aside to ISABELLA] You are too cold.

76Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word.

77May call it back again. Well, believe this,

78No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,

79Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,

80The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,

81Become them with one half so good a grace

82As mercy does.

83If he had been as you and you as he,

84You would have slipt like him; but he, like you,

85Would not have been so stern.

86Pray you, be gone.

87I would to heaven I had your potency,

88And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?

89No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,

90And what a prisoner.

91[Aside to ISABELLA]

92Ay, touch him; there's the vein.

93Your brother is a forfeit of the law,

94And you but waste your words.

95Alas, alas!

96Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;

97And He that might the vantage best have took

98Found out the remedy. How would you be,

99If He, which is the top of judgment, should

100But judge you as you are? O, think on that;

101And mercy then will breathe within your lips,

102Like man new made.

103Be you content, fair maid;

104It is the law, not I condemn your brother:

105Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

106It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow.

107To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him!

108He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens

109We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven

110With less respect than we do minister

111To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you;

112Who is it that hath died for this offence?

113There's many have committed it.

114[Aside to ISABELLA] Ay, well said.

115The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:

116Those many had not dared to do that evil,

117If the first that did the edict infringe

118Had answer'd for his deed: now 'tis awake

119Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,

120Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils,

121Either new, or by remissness new-conceived,

122And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,

123Are now to have no successive degrees,

124But, ere they live, to end.

125Yet show some pity.

126I show it most of all when I show justice;

127For then I pity those I do not know,

128Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;

129And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,

130Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;

131Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

132So you must be the first that gives this sentence,

133And he, that suffer's. O, it is excellent

134To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous

135To use it like a giant.

136[Aside to ISABELLA] That's well said.

137Could great men thunder

138As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,

139For every pelting, petty officer

140Would use his heaven for thunder;

141Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven,

142Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt

143Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak

144Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man,

145Drest in a little brief authority,

146Most ignorant of what he's most assured,

147His glassy essence, like an angry ape,

148Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven

149As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,

150Would all themselves laugh mortal.

151[Aside to ISABELLA] O, to him, to him, wench! he

152will relent;

153He's coming; I perceive 't.

154[Aside] Pray heaven she win him!

155We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:

156Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them,

157But in the less foul profanation.

158Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o, that.

159That in the captain's but a choleric word,

160Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

161[Aside to ISABELLA] Art avised o' that? more on 't.

162Why do you put these sayings upon me?

163Because authority, though it err like others,

164Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

165That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom;

166Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know

167That's like my brother's fault: if it confess

168A natural guiltiness such as is his,

169Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue

170Against my brother's life.

171[Aside] She speaks, and 'tis

172Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well.

173Gentle my lord, turn back.

174I will bethink me: come again tomorrow.

175Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back.

176How! bribe me?

177Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.

178[Aside to ISABELLA] You had marr'd all else.

179Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,

180Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor

181As fancy values them; but with true prayers

182That shall be up at heaven and enter there

183Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls,

184From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate

185To nothing temporal.

186Well; come to me to-morrow.

187[Aside to ISABELLA] Go to; 'tis well; away!

188Heaven keep your honour safe!

189[Aside] Amen:

190For I am that way going to temptation,

191Where prayers cross.

192At what hour to-morrow

193Shall I attend your lordship?

194At any time 'fore noon.

195'Save your honour!

196From thee, even from thy virtue!

197What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine?

198The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?

199Ha!

200Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I

201That, lying by the violet in the sun,

202Do as the carrion does, not as the flower,

203Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be

204That modesty may more betray our sense

205Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,

206Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary

207And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!

208What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?

209Dost thou desire her foully for those things

210That make her good? O, let her brother live!

211Thieves for their robbery have authority

212When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her,

213That I desire to hear her speak again,

214And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?

215O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,

216With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous

217Is that temptation that doth goad us on

218To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet,

219With all her double vigour, art and nature,

220Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid

221Subdues me quite. Even till now,

222When men were fond, I smiled and wonder'd how.

1Hail to you, provost! so I think you are.

2I am the provost. What's your will, good friar?

3Bound by my charity and my blest order,

4I come to visit the afflicted spirits

5Here in the prison. Do me the common right

6To let me see them and to make me know

7The nature of their crimes, that I may minister

8To them accordingly.

9I would do more than that, if more were needful.

10Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine,

11Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth,

12Hath blister'd her report: she is with child;

13And he that got it, sentenced; a young man

14More fit to do another such offence

15Than die for this.

16When must he die?

17As I do think, to-morrow.

18I have provided for you: stay awhile,

19And you shall be conducted.

20Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?

21I do; and bear the shame most patiently.

22I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience,

23And try your penitence, if it be sound,

24Or hollowly put on.

25I'll gladly learn.

26Love you the man that wrong'd you?

27Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.

28So then it seems your most offenceful act

29Was mutually committed?

30Mutually.

31Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.

32I do confess it, and repent it, father.

33'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent,

34As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,

35Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven,

36Showing we would not spare heaven as we love it,

37But as we stand in fear,--

38I do repent me, as it is an evil,

39And take the shame with joy.

40There rest.

41Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,

42And I am going with instruction to him.

43Grace go with you, Benedicite!

44Must die to-morrow! O injurious love,

45That respites me a life, whose very comfort

46Is still a dying horror!

47'Tis pity of him.

1When I would pray and think, I think and pray

2To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words;

3Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,

4Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,

5As if I did but only chew his name;

6And in my heart the strong and swelling evil

7Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied

8Is like a good thing, being often read,

9Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,

10Wherein--let no man hear me--I take pride,

11Could I with boot change for an idle plume,

12Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form,

13How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,

14Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls

15To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood:

16Let's write good angel on the devil's horn:

17'Tis not the devil's crest.

18How now! who's there?

19One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you.

20Teach her the way.

21O heavens!

22Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,

23Making both it unable for itself,

24And dispossessing all my other parts

25Of necessary fitness?

26So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;

27Come all to help him, and so stop the air

28By which he should revive: and even so

29The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,

30Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness

31Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love

32Must needs appear offence.

33How now, fair maid?

34I am come to know your pleasure.

35That you might know it, would much better please me

36Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.

37Even so. Heaven keep your honour!

38Yet may he live awhile; and, it may be,

39yet he must die.

40Under your sentence?

41Yea.

42When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve,

43Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted

44That his soul sicken not.

45Ha! fie, these filthy vices! It were as good

46To pardon him that hath from nature stolen

47A man already made, as to remit

48Their saucy sweetness that do coin heaven's image

49In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy

50Falsely to take away a life true made

51As to put metal in restrained means

52To make a false one.

53'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.

54Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly.

55Which had you rather, that the most just law

56Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,

57Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness

58As she that he hath stain'd?

59Sir, believe this,

60I had rather give my body than my soul.

61I talk not of your soul: our compell'd sins

62Stand more for number than for accompt.

63How say you?

64Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak

65Against the thing I say. Answer to this:

66I, now the voice of the recorded law,

67Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:

68Might there not be a charity in sin

69To save this brother's life?

70Please you to do't,

71I'll take it as a peril to my soul,

72It is no sin at all, but charity.

73Pleased you to do't at peril of your soul,

74Were equal poise of sin and charity.

75That I do beg his life, if it be sin,

76Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit,

77If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer

78To have it added to the faults of mine,

79And nothing of your answer.

80Nay, but hear me.

81Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,

82Or seem so craftily; and that's not good.

83Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good,

84But graciously to know I am no better.

85Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright

86When it doth tax itself; as these black masks

87Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder

88Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me;

89To be received plain, I'll speak more gross:

90Your brother is to die.

91So.

92And his offence is so, as it appears,

93Accountant to the law upon that pain.

94True.

95Admit no other way to save his life,--

96As I subscribe not that, nor any other,

97But in the loss of question,--that you, his sister,

98Finding yourself desired of such a person,

99Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,

100Could fetch your brother from the manacles

101Of the all-building law; and that there were

102No earthly mean to save him, but that either

103You must lay down the treasures of your body

104To this supposed, or else to let him suffer;

105What would you do?

106As much for my poor brother as myself:

107That is, were I under the terms of death,

108The impression of keen whips I'ld wear as rubies,

109And strip myself to death, as to a bed

110That longing have been sick for, ere I'ld yield

111My body up to shame.

112Then must your brother die.

113And 'twere the cheaper way:

114Better it were a brother died at once,

115Than that a sister, by redeeming him,

116Should die for ever.

117Were not you then as cruel as the sentence

118That you have slander'd so?

119Ignomy in ransom and free pardon

120Are of two houses: lawful mercy

121Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

122You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;

123And rather proved the sliding of your brother

124A merriment than a vice.

125O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,

126To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean:

127I something do excuse the thing I hate,

128For his advantage that I dearly love.

129We are all frail.

130Else let my brother die,

131If not a feodary, but only he

132Owe and succeed thy weakness.

133Nay, women are frail too.

134Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;

135Which are as easy broke as they make forms.

136Women! Help Heaven! men their creation mar

137In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;

138For we are soft as our complexions are,

139And credulous to false prints.

140I think it well:

141And from this testimony of your own sex,--

142Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger

143Than faults may shake our frames,--let me be bold;

144I do arrest your words. Be that you are,

145That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;

146If you be one, as you are well express'd

147By all external warrants, show it now,

148By putting on the destined livery.

149I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,

150Let me entreat you speak the former language.

151Plainly conceive, I love you.

152My brother did love Juliet,

153And you tell me that he shall die for it.

154He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.

155I know your virtue hath a licence in't,

156Which seems a little fouler than it is,

157To pluck on others.

158Believe me, on mine honour,

159My words express my purpose.

160Ha! little honour to be much believed,

161And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming!

162I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:

163Sign me a present pardon for my brother,

164Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud

165What man thou art.

166Who will believe thee, Isabel?

167My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,

168My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,

169Will so your accusation overweigh,

170That you shall stifle in your own report

171And smell of calumny. I have begun,

172And now I give my sensual race the rein:

173Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;

174Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,

175That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother

176By yielding up thy body to my will;

177Or else he must not only die the death,

178But thy unkindness shall his death draw out

179To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,

180Or, by the affection that now guides me most,

181I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,

182Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.

183To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,

184Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,

185That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,

186Either of condemnation or approof;

187Bidding the law make court'sy to their will:

188Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,

189To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:

190Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood,

191Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour.

192That, had he twenty heads to tender down

193On twenty bloody blocks, he'ld yield them up,

194Before his sister should her body stoop

195To such abhorr'd pollution.

196Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:

197More than our brother is our chastity.

198I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,

199And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest.

1So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?

2The miserable have no other medicine

3But only hope:

4I've hope to live, and am prepared to die.

5Be absolute for death; either death or life

6Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:

7If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing

8That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,

9Servile to all the skyey influences,

10That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,

11Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;

12For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun

13And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble;

14For all the accommodations that thou bear'st

15Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means valiant;

16For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork

17Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,

18And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear'st

19Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;

20For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains

21That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;

22For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get,

23And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain;

24For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,

25After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor;

26For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,

27Thou bear's thy heavy riches but a journey,

28And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none;

29For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,

30The mere effusion of thy proper loins,

31Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,

32For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age,

33But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,

34Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth

35Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms

36Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,

37Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,

38To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this

39That bears the name of life? Yet in this life

40Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear,

41That makes these odds all even.

42I humbly thank you.

43To sue to live, I find I seek to die;

44And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.

45[Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company!

46Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.

47Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.

48Most holy sir, I thank you.

49My business is a word or two with Claudio.

50And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister.

51Provost, a word with you.

52As many as you please.

53Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed.

54Now, sister, what's the comfort?

55Why,

56As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed.

57Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,

58Intends you for his swift ambassador,

59Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:

60Therefore your best appointment make with speed;

61To-morrow you set on.

62Is there no remedy?

63None, but such remedy as, to save a head,

64To cleave a heart in twain.

65But is there any?

66Yes, brother, you may live:

67There is a devilish mercy in the judge,

68If you'll implore it, that will free your life,

69But fetter you till death.

70Perpetual durance?

71Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint,

72Though all the world's vastidity you had,

73To a determined scope.

74But in what nature?

75In such a one as, you consenting to't,

76Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,

77And leave you naked.

78Let me know the point.

79O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,

80Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,

81And six or seven winters more respect

82Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die?

83The sense of death is most in apprehension;

84And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,

85In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great

86As when a giant dies.

87Why give you me this shame?

88Think you I can a resolution fetch

89From flowery tenderness? If I must die,

90I will encounter darkness as a bride,

91And hug it in mine arms.

92There spake my brother; there my father's grave

93Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:

94Thou art too noble to conserve a life

95In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,

96Whose settled visage and deliberate word

97Nips youth i' the head and follies doth emmew

98As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil

99His filth within being cast, he would appear

100A pond as deep as hell.

101The prenzie Angelo!

102O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,

103The damned'st body to invest and cover

104In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio?

105If I would yield him my virginity,

106Thou mightst be freed.

107O heavens! it cannot be.

108Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence,

109So to offend him still. This night's the time

110That I should do what I abhor to name,

111Or else thou diest to-morrow.

112Thou shalt not do't.

113O, were it but my life,

114I'ld throw it down for your deliverance

115As frankly as a pin.

116Thanks, dear Isabel.

117Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.

118Yes. Has he affections in him,

119That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,

120When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin,

121Or of the deadly seven, it is the least.

122Which is the least?

123If it were damnable, he being so wise,

124Why would he for the momentary trick

125Be perdurably fined? O Isabel!

126What says my brother?

127Death is a fearful thing.

128And shamed life a hateful.

129Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;

130To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;

131This sensible warm motion to become

132A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit

133To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside

134In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;

135To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,

136And blown with restless violence round about

137The pendent world; or to be worse than worst

138Of those that lawless and incertain thought

139Imagine howling: 'tis too horrible!

140The weariest and most loathed worldly life

141That age, ache, penury and imprisonment

142Can lay on nature is a paradise

143To what we fear of death.

144Alas, alas!

145Sweet sister, let me live:

146What sin you do to save a brother's life,

147Nature dispenses with the deed so far

148That it becomes a virtue.

149O you beast!

150O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!

151Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?

152Is't not a kind of incest, to take life

153From thine own sister's shame? What should I think?

154Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair!

155For such a warped slip of wilderness

156Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance!

157Die, perish! Might but my bending down

158Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:

159I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,

160No word to save thee.

161Nay, hear me, Isabel.

162O, fie, fie, fie!

163Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade.

164Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:

165'Tis best thou diest quickly.

166O hear me, Isabella!

167Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.

168What is your will?

169Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and

170by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I

171would require is likewise your own benefit.

172I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be

173stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile.

174Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you

175and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to

176corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her

177virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition

178of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her,

179hath made him that gracious denial which he is most

180glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I

181know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to

182death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes

183that are fallible: tomorrow you must die; go to

184your knees and make ready.

185Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love

186with life that I will sue to be rid of it.

187Hold you there: farewell.

188Provost, a word with you!

189What's your will, father

190That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me

191awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my

192habit no loss shall touch her by my company.

193In good time.

194The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good:

195the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty

196brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of

197your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever

198fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you,

199fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but

200that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should

201wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this

202substitute, and to save your brother?

203I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my

204brother die by the law than my son should be

205unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good duke

206deceived in Angelo! If ever he return and I can

207speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or

208discover his government.

209That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter

210now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made

211trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my

212advisings: to the love I have in doing good a

213remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe

214that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged

215lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from

216the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious

217person; and much please the absent duke, if

218peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of

219this business.

220Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do

221anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.

222Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have

223you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of

224Frederick the great soldier who miscarried at sea?

225I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.

226She should this Angelo have married; was affianced

227to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between

228which time of the contract and limit of the

229solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea,

230having in that perished vessel the dowry of his

231sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the

232poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and

233renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most

234kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of

235her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her

236combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.

237Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her?

238Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them

239with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole,

240pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few,

241bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet

242wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears,

243is washed with them, but relents not.

244What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid

245from the world! What corruption in this life, that

246it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail?

247It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and the

248cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps

249you from dishonour in doing it.

250Show me how, good father.

251This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance

252of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that

253in all reason should have quenched her love, hath,

254like an impediment in the current, made it more

255violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his

256requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with

257his demands to the point; only refer yourself to

258this advantage, first, that your stay with him may

259not be long; that the time may have all shadow and

260silence in it; and the place answer to convenience.

261This being granted in course,--and now follows

262all,--we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up

263your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter

264acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to

265her recompense: and here, by this, is your brother

266saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana

267advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid

268will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you

269think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness

270of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof.

271What think you of it?

272The image of it gives me content already; and I

273trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.

274It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily

275to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his

276bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will

277presently to Saint Luke's: there, at the moated

278grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that

279place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that

280it may be quickly.

281I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father.

1Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will

2needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we

3shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.

4O heavens! what stuff is here

5'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the

6merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by

7order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and

8furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that

9craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.

10Come your way, sir. 'Bless you, good father friar.

11And you, good brother father. What offence hath

12this man made you, sir?

13Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we

14take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found

15upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have

16sent to the deputy.

17Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd!

18The evil that thou causest to be done,

19That is thy means to live. Do thou but think

20What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back

21From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,

22From their abominable and beastly touches

23I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.

24Canst thou believe thy living is a life,

25So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.

26Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet,

27sir, I would prove--

28Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,

29Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer:

30Correction and instruction must both work

31Ere this rude beast will profit.

32He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him

33warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if

34he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were

35as good go a mile on his errand.

36That we were all, as some would seem to be,

37From our faults, as faults from seeming, free!

38His neck will come to your waist,--a cord, sir.

39I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman and a

40friend of mine.

41How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of

42Caesar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there

43none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be

44had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and

45extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What

46sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is't

47not drowned i' the last rain, ha? What sayest

48thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is

49the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The

50trick of it?

51Still thus, and thus; still worse!

52How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she

53still, ha?

54Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she

55is herself in the tub.

56Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be

57so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd:

58an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going

59to prison, Pompey?

60Yes, faith, sir.

61Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I

62sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how?

63For being a bawd, for being a bawd.

64Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the

65due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he

66doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born.

67Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison,

68Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you

69will keep the house.

70I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail.

71No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear.

72I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: If

73you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the

74more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. 'Bless you, friar.

75And you.

76Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha?

77Come your ways, sir; come.

78You will not bail me, then, sir?

79Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar?

80what news?

81Come your ways, sir; come.

82Go to kennel, Pompey; go.

83What news, friar, of the duke?

84I know none. Can you tell me of any?

85Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other

86some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?

87I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well.

88It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from

89the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born

90to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he

91puts transgression to 't.

92He does well in 't.

93A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in

94him: something too crabbed that way, friar.

95It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.

96Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred;

97it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp

98it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put

99down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and

100woman after this downright way of creation: is it

101true, think you?

102How should he be made, then?

103Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he

104was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is

105certain that when he makes water his urine is

106congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a

107motion generative; that's infallible.

108You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace.

109Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the

110rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a

111man! Would the duke that is absent have done this?

112Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a

113hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing

114a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport: he

115knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.

116I never heard the absent duke much detected for

117women; he was not inclined that way.

118O, sir, you are deceived.

119'Tis not possible.

120Who, not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and

121his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the

122duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too;

123that let me inform you.

124You do him wrong, surely.

125Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the

126duke: and I believe I know the cause of his

127withdrawing.

128What, I prithee, might be the cause?

129No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be locked within the

130teeth and the lips: but this I can let you

131understand, the greater file of the subject held the

132duke to be wise.

133Wise! why, no question but he was.

134A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.

135Either this is the envy in you, folly, or mistaking:

136the very stream of his life and the business he hath

137helmed must upon a warranted need give him a better

138proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own

139bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the

140envious a scholar, a statesman and a soldier.

141Therefore you speak unskilfully: or if your

142knowledge be more it is much darkened in your malice.

143Sir, I know him, and I love him.

144Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with

145dearer love.

146Come, sir, I know what I know.

147I can hardly believe that, since you know not what

148you speak. But, if ever the duke return, as our

149prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your

150answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke,

151you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call

152upon you; and, I pray you, your name?

153Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke.

154He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to

155report you.

156I fear you not.

157O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you

158imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I

159can do you little harm; you'll forswear this again.

160I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me,

161friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if

162Claudio die to-morrow or no?

163Why should he die, sir?

164Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would

165the duke we talk of were returned again: the

166ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with

167continency; sparrows must not build in his

168house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke

169yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would

170never bring them to light: would he were returned!

171Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing.

172Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray for me. The

173duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on

174Fridays. He's not past it yet, and I say to thee,

175he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown

176bread and garlic: say that I said so. Farewell.

177No might nor greatness in mortality

178Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny

179The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong

180Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?

181But who comes here?

182Go; away with her to prison!

183Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted

184a merciful man; good my lord.

185Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in

186the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play

187the tyrant.

188A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please

189your honour.

190My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me.

191Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the

192duke's time; he promised her marriage: his child

193is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob:

194I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me!

195That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be

196called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to;

197no more words.

198Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered;

199Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished

200with divines, and have all charitable preparation.

201if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be

202so with him.

203So please you, this friar hath been with him, and

204advised him for the entertainment of death.

205Good even, good father.

206Bliss and goodness on you!

207Of whence are you?

208Not of this country, though my chance is now

209To use it for my time: I am a brother

210Of gracious order, late come from the See

211In special business from his holiness.

212What news abroad i' the world?

213None, but that there is so great a fever on

214goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it:

215novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous

216to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous

217to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce

218truth enough alive to make societies secure; but

219security enough to make fellowships accurst: much

220upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This

221news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I

222pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke?

223One that, above all other strifes, contended

224especially to know himself.

225What pleasure was he given to?

226Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at

227any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a

228gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to

229his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous;

230and let me desire to know how you find Claudio

231prepared. I am made to understand that you have

232lent him visitation.

233He professes to have received no sinister measure

234from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself

235to the determination of justice: yet had he framed

236to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many

237deceiving promises of life; which I by my good

238leisure have discredited to him, and now is he

239resolved to die.

240You have paid the heavens your function, and the

241prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have

242laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest

243shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I

244found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him

245he is indeed Justice.

246If his own life answer the straitness of his

247proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he

248chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.

249I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.

250Peace be with you!

251He who the sword of heaven will bear

252Should be as holy as severe;

253Pattern in himself to know,

254Grace to stand, and virtue go;

255More nor less to others paying

256Than by self-offences weighing.

257Shame to him whose cruel striking

258Kills for faults of his own liking!

259Twice treble shame on Angelo,

260To weed my vice and let his grow!

261O, what may man within him hide,

262Though angel on the outward side!

263How may likeness made in crimes,

264Making practise on the times,

265To draw with idle spiders' strings

266Most ponderous and substantial things!

267Craft against vice I must apply:

268With Angelo to-night shall lie

269His old betrothed but despised;

270So disguise shall, by the disguised,

271Pay with falsehood false exacting,

272And perform an old contracting.

1Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away:

2Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice

3Hath often still'd my brawling discontent.

4I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish

5You had not found me here so musical:

6Let me excuse me, and believe me so,

7My mirth it much displeased, but pleased my woe.

8'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm

9To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.

10I pray, you, tell me, hath any body inquired

11for me here to-day? much upon this time have

12I promised here to meet.

13You have not been inquired after:

14I have sat here all day.

15I do constantly believe you. The time is come even

16now. I shall crave your forbearance a little: may

17be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself.

18I am always bound to you.

19Very well met, and well come.

20What is the news from this good deputy?

21He hath a garden circummured with brick,

22Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd;

23And to that vineyard is a planched gate,

24That makes his opening with this bigger key:

25This other doth command a little door

26Which from the vineyard to the garden leads;

27There have I made my promise

28Upon the heavy middle of the night

29To call upon him.

30But shall you on your knowledge find this way?

31I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't:

32With whispering and most guilty diligence,

33In action all of precept, he did show me

34The way twice o'er.

35Are there no other tokens

36Between you 'greed concerning her observance?

37No, none, but only a repair i' the dark;

38And that I have possess'd him my most stay

39Can be but brief; for I have made him know

40I have a servant comes with me along,

41That stays upon me, whose persuasion is

42I come about my brother.

43'Tis well borne up.

44I have not yet made known to Mariana

45A word of this. What, ho! within! come forth!

46I pray you, be acquainted with this maid;

47She comes to do you good.

48I do desire the like.

49Do you persuade yourself that I respect you?

50Good friar, I know you do, and have found it.

51Take, then, this your companion by the hand,

52Who hath a story ready for your ear.

53I shall attend your leisure: but make haste;

54The vaporous night approaches.

55Will't please you walk aside?

56O place and greatness! millions of false eyes

57Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report

58Run with these false and most contrarious quests

59Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit

60Make thee the father of their idle dreams

61And rack thee in their fancies.

62Welcome, how agreed?

63She'll take the enterprise upon her, father,

64If you advise it.

65It is not my consent,

66But my entreaty too.

67Little have you to say

68When you depart from him, but, soft and low,

69'Remember now my brother.'

70Fear me not.

71Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all.

72He is your husband on a pre-contract:

73To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin,

74Sith that the justice of your title to him

75Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go:

76Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow.

1Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head?

2If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a

3married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never

4cut off a woman's head.

5Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a

6direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio

7and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common

8executioner, who in his office lacks a helper: if

9you will take it on you to assist him, it shall

10redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have

11your full time of imprisonment and your deliverance

12with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a

13notorious bawd.

14Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind;

15but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I

16would be glad to receive some instruction from my

17fellow partner.

18What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, there?

19Do you call, sir?

20Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in

21your execution. If you think it meet, compound with

22him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if

23not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He

24cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd.

25A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery.

26Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn

27the scale.

28Pray, sir, by your good favour,--for surely, sir, a

29good favour you have, but that you have a hanging

30look,--do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery?

31Ay, sir; a mystery

32Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and

33your whores, sir, being members of my occupation,

34using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery:

35but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I

36should be hanged, I cannot imagine.

37Sir, it is a mystery.

38Proof?

39Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be

40too little for your thief, your true man thinks it

41big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your

42thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's

43apparel fits your thief.

44Are you agreed?

45Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is

46a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth

47oftener ask forgiveness.

48You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe

49to-morrow four o'clock.

50Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow.

51I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have

52occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find

53me yare; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you

54a good turn.

55Call hither Barnardine and Claudio:

56The one has my pity; not a jot the other,

57Being a murderer, though he were my brother.

58Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death:

59'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow

60Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine?

61As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour

62When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones:

63He will not wake.

64Who can do good on him?

65Well, go, prepare yourself.

66But, hark, what noise?

67Heaven give your spirits comfort!

68By and by.

69I hope it is some pardon or reprieve

70For the most gentle Claudio.

71Welcome father.

72The best and wholesomest spirts of the night

73Envelope you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late?

74None, since the curfew rung.

75Not Isabel?

76No.

77They will, then, ere't be long.

78What comfort is for Claudio?

79There's some in hope.

80It is a bitter deputy.

81Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd

82Even with the stroke and line of his great justice:

83He doth with holy abstinence subdue

84That in himself which he spurs on his power

85To qualify in others: were he meal'd with that

86Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous;

87But this being so, he's just.

88Now are they come.

89This is a gentle provost: seldom when

90The steeled gaoler is the friend of men.

91How now! what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste

92That wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes.

93There he must stay until the officer

94Arise to let him in: he is call'd up.

95Have you no countermand for Claudio yet,

96But he must die to-morrow?

97None, sir, none.

98As near the dawning, provost, as it is,

99You shall hear more ere morning.

100Happily

101You something know; yet I believe there comes

102No countermand; no such example have we:

103Besides, upon the very siege of justice

104Lord Angelo hath to the public ear

105Profess'd the contrary.

106This is his lordship's man.

107And here comes Claudio's pardon.

108[Giving a paper]

109My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this

110further charge, that you swerve not from the

111smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or

112other circumstance. Good morrow; for, as I take it,

113it is almost day.

114I shall obey him.

115[Aside] This is his pardon, purchased by such sin

116For which the pardoner himself is in.

117Hence hath offence his quick celerity,

118When it is born in high authority:

119When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended,

120That for the fault's love is the offender friended.

121Now, sir, what news?

122I told you. Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss

123in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted

124putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before.

125Pray you, let's hear.

126[Reads]

127'Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let

128Claudio be executed by four of the clock; and in the

129afternoon Barnardine: for my better satisfaction,

130let me have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let

131this be duly performed; with a thought that more

132depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail

133not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.'

134What say you to this, sir?

135What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the

136afternoon?

137A Bohemian born, but here nursed un and bred; one

138that is a prisoner nine years old.

139How came it that the absent duke had not either

140delivered him to his liberty or executed him? I

141have heard it was ever his manner to do so.

142His friends still wrought reprieves for him: and,

143indeed, his fact, till now in the government of Lord