Escal. Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. Elb. To your worship's house, sir?
as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for [| For which I must not plead, but that I am Well; the matter? them; I do it for some piece of money, and go At war, 'twixt will, and will not. Ang. Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die: through with all. I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother. Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it! Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done : Mine were the very cipher of a function, To find the faults, whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor. Isab.
Escal. To my house: Fare you well. [Exit Elbow.] What's o'clock, think you?
Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me. you. Just. I humbly thank
Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio; But there's no remedy.
Just. Lord Angelo is severe. Escal.
It is but needful: Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so: Pardon is still the nurse of second wo: But yet,-Poor Claudio!-There's no remedy. Come, sir.
SCENE II-Another room in the same. Enter Provost and a Servant.
Serv. He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight.
Prov. Pray you, do. [Exit Servant.] I'll know His pleasure; may be, he will relent: Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream!
All sects, all ages, smack of this vice; and he To die for it!
Now, what's the matter, provost? Ang. Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow? Ang. Did I not tell thee, yea? hadst thou not order?
Why dost thou ask again?
Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom.
I had a brother then.-Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring.
Lucio. [To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him; his gown; Kneel down before him, hang upon You are too cold: if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say.
Isab. Must he needs die? Maiden, no remedy. Ang. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do't.
Isab. But can you, if you would? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. Isab. But might you do't, and do the world no
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorsel As mine is to him?
Ang. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold.
[To Isabella. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back again: Well believe this, No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Lest I might be too rash: Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace, As mercy does. If he had been as you, And you as he, you would have slipt like him; But he, like you, would not have been so stern. Ang. Pray you, begone.
Go to; let that be mine; office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spar'd.
Prov. I crave your honour's pardon.- What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour.
To some more fitter place; and that with speed.
Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd, Desires access to you.
Prov. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, Found out the remedy: How would you be, And to be shortly of a sisterhood,
Ang. Well, let her be admitted. [Ex. Serv. See you the fornicatress be remov'd;
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means; There shall be order for it.
Enter Lucio and Isabella.
Prov. Save your honour! [Offering to retire. Ang. Stay a little while.-[To Isab.] You are welcome: What's your will? Isab. I am a woful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me. Ang.
Well; what's your suit? Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made. Be you content, fair maid: Ang. It is the law, not I, condemns your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him;--He must die to-mor-
Isab. To-morrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him :
He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season ;3 shall we serve With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink
And most desire should meet the blow of justice Who is it that hath died for this offence?
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept :
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, If the first man that did the edict infringe; Had answer'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake; Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet, Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils (Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv'd, And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,) Are now to have no successive degrees, But, where they live, to end.
Yet show some pity. Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know, Which a distniss'd offence would after gall; And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your brother dies to-morrow: be content.
Isab. So you must be the first, that gives
And he, that suffers: O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
Lucio. Go to; it is well; away. [Aside to Isab. Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe! Ang.
Am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. Isab.
Shall I attend your lordship? Ang. At any time 'fore noon. Isab. Save your honour! [Exe. Luc. Isa. and Pro. Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue !--- thisWhat's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine? The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I, That lying by the violet, in the sun, Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be, That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting petty officer,
Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder.
Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled? oak, Than the soft myrtle:-O, but man, proud man! Drest in a little brief authority;
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, And pitch our evils there?5 O, fie, fie, fie! What dost thou? or what art thou, Angelo? Dost thou desire her foully, for those things That make her good? O, let her brother live: Thieves for their robbery have authority, When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her, That I desire to hear her speak again,
And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on? O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, spleens,With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation, that doth goad us on
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd, His glassy essence,-like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep: who, with our Would all themselves laugh mortal. Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent; He's coming, I perceive't. Prov. Pray heaven, she win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them; But, in less, foul profanation.
Lucio. Thou art in the right, girl; more o' that. Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Lucio. Art advis'd o' that? more on't. Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me? Isab. Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
That skims the vice o' the top: Go to your bosom; Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth know That's like my brother's fault: if it confess A natural guiltiness, such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life.
She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. you well.
Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back.
Ang. I will bethink me:--Come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my lord, turn back.
Ang. How! bribe me?
To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet, With all her double vigour, art, and nature, Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite ;-Ever, till now, When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how. [Exit.
SCENE III-A room in a prison. Enter Duke,
habited like a Friar, and Provost.
Duke. Hail to you, provost; so, I think you are. Prov. I am the provost : What's your will, good friar?
Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order,
I come to visit the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison: do me the common right To let me see them; and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly.
Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful.
Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine, Who falling in the flames of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report: She is with child; And he that got it, sentenc'd: a young man
Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share More fit to do another such offence,
(1) Paltry. (2) Knotted. (3) Attested, stamped. (4) Preserved from the corruption of the world.
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words; Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name; And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil Of my conception: The state, whereon I studied, Is like a good thing, being often read, Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity, Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, Could I, with boot,2 change for an idle plume, Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form! How often dost thou with thy case,3 thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood: Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, 'Tis not the devil's crest.
Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted, That his soul sicken not.
Ang. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen A man already made, as to remit
Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image, In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy Falsely to take away a life true made, As to put mettle in restrained means, To make a false cne.
Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. Ang. Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly. Which had you rather, That the most just law Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness, As she that he hath stain'd? Isab. Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul. Ang. I talk not of your soul: Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than accompt. Isab.
How say you? Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing I say. Answer to this;I, now the voice of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life: Might there not be a charity in sin, To save this brother's life?
I'll take it as a peril to my soul,
It is no sin at all, but charity.
Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poize of sin and charity.
Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven, let me hear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I make it my morn prayer To have it added to the fu'ts of mine, And nothing of your, auswer. Ang. Nay, but hear me : Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good.
Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better.
Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself: as these black masks Proclaim an enshields beauty ten times louder Than beauty could displayed.-But mark me; To be receiv'd plain, I'll speak more gross : Your brother is to die.
Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain.6 Isab. True.
Ang. Admit no other way to save his life
(5) Enshielded, covered. (6) Penalty.
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the loss of question,2) that you, his sister, Finding yourself desir'd of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,|| Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-binding law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else let himn suffer; What would you do?
Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself: That is, Were I under the terms of death, The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield My body up to shame.
Then must your brother die. Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way: Better it were, a brother died at once, Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever.
Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slander'd so?
Isab. Ignomy3 in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses: lawful mercy is Nothing akin to foul redemption.
Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a ty- rant,
And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice.
Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we'd have, we speak not what we
I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail. Isab.
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't: Sign me a present pardon for my brother, Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world Aloud, what man thou art. Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place is the state, Will so your accusation overweigh, That you shall stifle in your own report, And smell of calumny. I have begun; And now I give my sensual race the rein: Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes, That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will; Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out To lingering sufferance: answer me to-morrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most, I'll prove a tyrant to him: As for you, Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.
[Exit. Isab. To whom shall I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, Either of condemnation or approof! Bidding the law make court'sy, to their will; Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother: Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour, That had he twe ty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up, Before his sister should her body stoop To such abhorr'd pollution.
Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die : Else let my brother die, More than our brother is our chastity. I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,
If not a feodary, but only he, Owe, and succeed by weakness. Ang. Nay, women are frail too. Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them-
Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women!-Help heaven! men their creation mar
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.
In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; SCENE I-A room in the prison. Enter Duke, For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints.6 Ang.
I think it well: And from this testimony of your own sex (Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold; I do arrest your words; Be that you are, That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none; If you be one (as you are well express'd By all external warrants,) show it now, By putting on the destin❜d livery.
Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Let ine entreat you speak the former language. Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you. Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you
tell me, That he shall die for it.
Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isab. I know, your virtue hath a license in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Ang.
Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose.
Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, And most pernicious purpose!-Seeming, seeming!
(1) Agree to. (2) Conversation. (3) Ignominy. (4) Associate. (6) Impressions.
Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord
Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope :
I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. Duke. Be absolute10 for death; either death, or life, Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life,-
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art (Servile to all the skiey influences,) That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, And yet run'st toward him still: Thou art not noble; For all the accommodations that thou bear'st, Are nurs'd by baseness: Thou art by no means
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm: Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust: Happy thou art not:
(7) Hypocrisy. (8) Attestation. (9) Reluctant. (10) Determined.
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get; And what thou hast, forget'st; Thou art not certain; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,' After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art poor; For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, And death unloads thee: Friend hast thou none; For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo,2 and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner: Thou hast nor youth, nor age;
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Dreaming on both for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg thee alms Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this, That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear, 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.
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 tw 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. Claud Now, sister, what's the comfort?
Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die: Thou art too :oble to conserve a life
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i'the head, and follies doth enmew,7 As falcon doth the fowl,-is yet a devil; His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell. Claud.
The princely Angelo? Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover In princely guards 18 Dost thou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my virginity, Thou might'st be freed? Claud.
O, heavens! it cannot be. Isab. Yes, he would give it 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.
Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, When he would force it? Sure it is no sin;
Isab. Why, as all comforts are; most good in-Or of the deadly seven it is the least.
Isab. Which is the least?
Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise, Why, would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably 10 fin'd?-O, Isabel! Isab. What says my brother? Claud.
Death is a fearful thing. Isab. And shamed life a hateful.
Claud. Av, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded cold; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless!! winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling!-'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life, That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.
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