The Dramatic Works of Shakespeare

Isab. Please you to do't,

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 bear it! you granting of my suit,
If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer
To have it added to the faults of mine,

And nothing of your, answer.

Ang. Nay, but hear me:

Accountant to the law upon that pain.
Isab. Truc.

Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
But in the loss of question,) 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 him 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 wearas 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.

Ang. Then must your brother die.

Isab. And'twere the cheaper way:

Betterit were, a brother died at once,

Than that a sister, by redeeming him,

Should die for ever.

Ang. Werenot you then as cruel as the sentence,

That you have slander'd so?

Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon,

Are of two houses: lawful mercy

Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

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

And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment than a vice.

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 enshield beauty ten times louder,
Than beauty could displayed.-But mark me;
To be received plain, I'll speak more gross:
Your brother is to die.

Isab, So.

Ang. And his offenceis so, as it appears

Isab. O, pardon me, mylord; it oft falls out,
To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean:
I something do excuse the thing lhate,
For his advantage, that I dearly love.

Ang. We are all frail.

Isab. Elseletmy brother die,

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 themselves;
Which are as easy broke, as they make forms.
Women! - Help heaven! men their creation mar
In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are soft, as our complexions are,

And credulous to false prints.

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 butone: gentlemylord,
Let me entreat you speak the former language!
Ang. Plainly conceive, Ilove 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 licence in't,
Which seems a little fouler than itis,
To pluck on others.

Ang. Believe me, on mine honour,

My words express my purpose.

Isab. Ila! little honour to be much believ'd,
And most pernicious purpose! ---Seeming, seeming!
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; lo: 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!

יני

[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 twenty 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: More than our brother is our chastity.

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

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

SCENE I.-A room in the prison. Enter Duke, CLAUDIO, and Provost.

Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort?

Isab. Why, as all comforts are, most good in deed:

Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,

Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:
Therefore your best appointment make with speed;
To-morrow you set on.

Claud. Is there no remedy?

Isab. None, but such remedy, as, to save a head,

[Exit. To cleave a heart in twain.

Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo? Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope:

I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.

Duke. Be absolute for death; either death, or life, Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life, IfI dolose 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 thon 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 valiant;
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. Happythou art not;

For what thon hastnot, still thou striv'st to get;

And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,

And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none;

After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art poor;

For, likean ass, whose back with ingots bows,

Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,

For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,

The mere effusion of thy proper loins,

Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,

Claud. But is there any?

Isab. Yes, brother, you may live;
There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death.

Claud. Perpetual durance?

Isab. Ay, just, perpetual durance; a restraint,
Though all the world's vastidity you had,
To a determin'd scope.

Claud. But in what nature?

Isab. In such a one as (you consenting to't) Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked.

Claud. Let me know the point.

Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect

Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die?
The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

Claud. Why give you me this shame?

Think you, I can a resolution fetch
From flowery tenderness? If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in mine arms.

Isab. There spake my brother; there my father's

His filth within being cast, he would appear

Claud. The princely Angelo?.

11*

For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, A pond as deep as hell.

norage;

Isab. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be
stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you a while.
Duke. [To Claudio, aside.] Son, I have overheard
what hath past between you and your sister. Angelo
had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath
made an essay of her virtue, to practise his judgment

Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank with the disposition of natures: she, having the truth offence,

So to offend him still: this night's the time,
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou diest to-morrow.
Claud. Thou shalt not do't.

Isab. O, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly, as a pin!

Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel!

Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow!
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;

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 fin'd?-O Isabel!

Isab. What says my brother?
Claud. Death is a fearful thing.
Isab. And shamed life a hateful.

Claud. Ay, 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 clod; 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 pendant 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.

of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial,
which he is most glad to receive: I am confessor to An-
gelo, and I know this to betrue; therefore prepare
yourself to death! Do not satisfy your resolution with
hopes that are fallible: to-morrow you must die; go
to your knees, and make ready.

Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of
love with life, that I will sue to be rid ofit.

Duke. Hold you there! Farewell.

Re-enter Provost.

Provost, a word with you.

Prov. What's your will, father?

[Exit Claudio.

Duke. That now you are come, you will be gone:
leave me a while with the maid; my mind promises
with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my company.
Prov. In good time.
[Exit Provost.
Duke. The hand, that hath made you fair, hath made
you good: the goodness, that is cheap in beauty,
makes beauty briefin goodness; but grace, being the
soul of your complexion, should keep the body of it
ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you,
fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but
that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should
wonder at Angelo. How would you do to content this
substitute, and to save your brother?

From thine own sister's shame? What should I think?
Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness

Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance!
Die; perish! might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
No word to save thee.

Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel!

Isab. Ofy, fy, fy!

Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade:
Mercy to thee would prove itselfa bawd:
'Tis best that thou diest quickly.
Claud. O hear me, Isabella!

Re-enter DUKE.

Isab. I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my brother die by the law, than my son should be unlawfully born. But oh, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he returu, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. Duke. That shall not be much amiss: yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made trial of you only. Therefore, fasten your ear on my advisings; to the love I have in doing good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe, that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit, redeem your brother from the angry law, do no stain to your own gracious person, and much please the absent duke, if, peradventure, he shall ever return to have hearing of this business.

Isab. Let me hear you speak further! I have spirit to do any thing, that appears not foul inthe truth of my spirit.

Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea? Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.

Duke. Her should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark, how heavily this befel to the poor gentlewoman:there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her mar[Going. riage dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.

Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word!
Isab. What is your will?

Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own benefit.

Isab. Can thisbe so? Did Angelo so leave her? Duke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending, in her, discoveries of dishonour: in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not.

Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live!-But how out of this can she avail?

Duke. It is a rupture, that you may easily heal: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.

Isab. Show me how, good father!

Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point: only refer yourself to this advantage, first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience: this being granted in course, now followsall. We shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go - in your place; ifthe encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense: and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?

Isab. The image of it gives me content already; and, Itrust, it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.

Duke. It lies much in your holding up: haste you speedily to Angelo; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to St Luke's; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. Isab. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father! [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.-The street before the prison. Enter Duke, as a Friar; to him ELBOW, Clown, and

Officers.

Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard. Duke. O, heavens! what stuff is here!

Clo. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two usuries, =the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox and lambskins too, to signify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.

Elb. Come your way, sir!-Bless you, good father friar! Duke. And you, good brother father! What offence hath this man made you, sir?

Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we havesent to the deputy.

Duke. Fy, sirrah; a bawd, a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou causest to be done,

That is thy means to live. Do thou but think
What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back,
From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,-
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live,
Canst thou believe thy living is a life,

So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend!
Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet,

sir, I would prove-

Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,

Thou wilt prove his. - Take him to prison, officer;
Correction and instruction must both work,
Ere this rude beast will profit.

Elb. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.

Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be, Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free!

Enter LUCIO.

Elb. His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir. Clo. I spy comfort; I cry, bail: Here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine!

Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the heels of Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to behad now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain? Ha? What say'st thou, trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The trick of it? Duke. Still thus, and thus! still worse! Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still? Ha?

Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herselfin the tub.

Lucio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so: ever your fresh whore, and your powder'd bawd: an unshun'd consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey?

Clo. Yes, faith, sir.

Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey! Farewell! Go; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? Or how? Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. Lucio. Well, then imprison him! Ifimprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right! Bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born.- Farewell, good Pompey: commend me to the prison, Pompey! You will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.

Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage : if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.-Bless you, friar!

Duke. And you!

Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?
Elb. Come your ways, sir; come!
Clo. You will not bail me then, sir?
Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now. - What news abroad,

friar? What news?

Elb. Come your ways, sir; come!
Lucio. Go, to kennel, Pompey, go!

[Exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers.

What news, friar, of the duke? Duke. I know none. Can you tell me of any? Lucio. Some say, he is with the emperor of Russia: other some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you? Duke. I know not where: but wheresoever, I wish him well.

Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence: he puts transgression to't.

Duke. He does well in't.

Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar. Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it. Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say, this Angelo was not made by man and woman, after the downright way of creation: is it true, think Duke. How should he be made then? Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him:

you?

Some, that he was begot between two stockfishes: but it is certain, that, when he makes water, his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion ungenerative, that's infallible.

Duke. You are pleasant, sir; and speak apace.

Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece, to take away the life of a man? Would the duke, that is absent, have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.

Duke. I never heard the absent duke much detected for women; he was not inclined that way.

Lucio. O, sir, you are deceived!

Duke. 'Tis not possible.

Lucio. Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was, to put a ducatin her clackdish: the duke had crotchets in him: he would be drunk too; that let me inform you.

Duke. You do him wrong, surely!

Lucio, Sir, I was an inward ofhis: a shy fellow was the duke: and, I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing.

Duke. What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause? Lucio.No,-pardon;-'tis a secret must be lock'dwithin the teeth and the lips: but this I can let you understand, -the greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise. Duke. Wise? why, no question but he was!

The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong,
Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?-
But who comes here?

Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier: therefore, you speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd in your malice,

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

Enter ESCALUS, Provost, Bawd, and Officers.
Escal. Go, away with her to prison!

Bawd. Good mylord, be good to me; your honour
is accounted a merciful man: good my lord!
Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit
in the same kind? This would make mercy swear, and
play the tyrant.

Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may it
please your honour.

Bawd.Mylord, this is one Lucio's information against me: mistress KateKeep-down was with child by him in the duke's time, he promised her marriage; his child is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me! Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much licence:-let him be called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to; no more words [Exeunt Bawd and Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnish'd with divines, and have all charitable preparation; if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him. Prov. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death. Escal. Good evta, good father!

Duke. Bliss and goodness on you!

Escal. Of whence are you?

Duke. Not of this country, though my chance is now
To useit for mytime: I am a brother
Of gracious order, late come from the see,
In special business from his holiness.
Escal. What news abroad i' the world?
Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever on
goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: no-
velty is only in request; and it isas dangerous to be
aged in any kind of course, as itis virtuous to be con-
stant in any undertaking. Thereis scarce truth enough

to make fellowshipsaccurs'd: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke?

Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and know- alive, to make societies secure; but security enough,

ledge with dearerlove.

Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know.

Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know not
what you speak. But, if ever the duke return, (as our
prayers are he may,) letme desire you to make your
answer before him: if it be honest you have spoke, you
have courage to maintain it: Iam bound to call upon
you; and, I pray you, your name?

Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke.
Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to
Lucio. I fear you not.

report you.

Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite! But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this again.

Lucio. I'll be hang'd first: thou art deceived in me, friar! But no more of this. Canst thou tell, if Claudio die to-morrow, or no?

Duke. Why should he die, sir?

Escal. One, that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself.

Duke. What pleasure was he given to ? Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing, which profess'd to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer, they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know, how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand, that you have

lent him visitation.

Duke. He professes to have received no sinister measures from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice: yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deIceiving promises of life; which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die. Escal. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor gentleman, to the extremest shore severe, that he hath forced me to tell him, he is indeed

Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-dish.
would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again: this
ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with con-
tinency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves,
because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have
dark deeds darkly answer'd; he would never bring of my modesty; but my brother justice have I found so

them to light: would he were return'd! Marry, this
Claudio is condemu'd for untrussing. Farewell, good --justice.
friar; I pr'ythee, pray for me! The duke, I say to thee
again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's now pastit;
yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with abeggar, ggar,
though she smelt brown bread and garlick: say, that I

said so. Farewell.

Duke. No might, nor greatness in mortality Can censure'scape; back-wounding calumny

[Exit.

Duke. If his own life answer the straitness of his pro-
ceeding, it shall become him well; wherein, ifhe chance
to fail, he hath sentenced himself.
Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.
Duke. Peace be with you! [Exeunt Escalus and

He, who the sword of heaven will bear,

Provost.

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