3.1 Enter DUKE, disguised, and Provost with CLAUDIO.

DUKE     So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?

 

CLAUDIO     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

5

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 skyey influences

 

That dost this habitation where thou keep’st

10

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 th’accommodations that thou bear’st

 

Are nurs’d by baseness. Thou’rt by no means valiant;

15

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 exists on many a thousand grains

20

That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;

 

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’rt poor;

25

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,

30

Do curse the gout, serpigo, 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 the alms

35

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 moe thousand deaths; yet death we fear

40

That makes these odds all even.

 

CLAUDIO     I humbly thank you.

 

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

 

And seeking death, find life. Let it come on.

 

ISABELLA [within]

 

What hoa! Peace here; grace and good company!

 

PROVOST

 

Who’s there? Come in; the wish deserves a welcome.

45

DUKE     Dear sir, ere long I’ll visit you again.

 

CLAUDIO     Most holy sir, I thank you.

 

Enter ISABELLA.

 

ISABELLA     My business is a word or two with Claudio.

 

PROVOST

 

And very welcome. Look, signior, here’s your sister.

 

DUKE     Provost, a word with you.

50

PROVOST     As many as you please.

 

DUKE     Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be

 

conceal’d. [Duke and Provost retire.]

 

CLAUDIO     Now, sister, what’s the comfort?

 

ISABELLA     Why,

 

As all comforts are: most good, most good indeed.

55

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;

 

Tomorrow you set on.

 

CLAUDIO     Is there no remedy?

60

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

 

To cleave a heart in twain.

 

CLAUDIO     But is there any?

 

ISABELLA     Yes, brother, you may live;

 

There is a devilish mercy in the judge,

 

If you’ll implore it, that will free your life,

65

But fetter you till death.

 

CLAUDIO     Perpetual durance?

 

ISABELLA     Ay, just, perpetual durance; a restraint,

 

Though all the world’s vastidity you had,

 

To a determin’d scope.

 

CLAUDIO     But in what nature?

 

ISABELLA     In such a one as, you consenting to’t,

70

Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,

 

And leave you naked.

 

CLAUDIO     Let me know the point.

 

ISABELLA     O, I do fear thee, Claudio, and I quake

 

Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,

 

And six or seven winters more respect

75

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.

 

CLAUDIO     Why give you me this shame?

80

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.

 

ISABELLA

 

There spake my brother: there my father’s grave

85

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

 

Thou art too noble to conserve a life

 

In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,

 

Whose settl’d visage and deliberate word

 

Nips youth i’th’ head and follies doth enew

90

As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil:

 

His filth within being cast, he would appear

 

A pond as deep as hell.

 

CLAUDIO     The precise Angelo!

 

ISABELLA     O, ’tis the cunning livery of hell

 

The damnedst body to invest and cover

95

In precise guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,

 

If I would yield him my virginity

 

Thou mightst be freed?

 

CLAUDIO     O heavens, it cannot be!

 

ISABELLA

 

Yes, he would give’t thee, from this rank offence,

 

So to offend him still. This night’s the time

100

That I should do what I abhor to name;

 

Or else thou diest tomorrow.

 

CLAUDIO     Thou shalt not do’t.

 

ISABELLA     O, were it but my life,

 

I’d throw it down for your deliverance

 

As frankly as a pin.

 

CLAUDIO     Thanks, dear Isabel.

105

ISABELLA     Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.

 

CLAUDIO     Yes. – Has he affections in him,

 

That thus can make him bite the law by th’nose

 

When he would force it? – Sure, it is no sin;

 

Or of the deadly seven it is the least.

110

ISABELLA     Which is the least?

 

CLAUDIO     If it were damnable, he being so wise,

 

Why would he for the momentary trick

 

Be perdurably fin’d? – O Isabel!

 

ISABELLA     What says my brother?

 

CLAUDIO     Death is a fearful thing.

115

ISABELLA     And shamed life a hateful.

 

CLAUDIO     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

120

To bath in fiery floods, or to reside

 

In thrilling region 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

125

Of those that lawless and incertain thought

 

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

130

To what we fear of death.

 

ISABELLA     Alas, alas!

 

CLAUDIO     Sweet sister, let me live.

 

What sin you do to save a brother’s life,

 

Nature dispenses with the deed so far

 

That it becomes a virtue.

 

ISABELLA     O, you beast!

135

O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!

 

Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?

 

Is’t not a kind of incest, to take life

 

From thine own sister’s shame? What should I think?

 

Heaven shield my mother play’d my father fair:

140

For such a warped slip of wilderness

 

Ne’er issued 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;

145

No word to save thee.

 

CLAUDIO     Nay hear me, Isabel.

 

ISABELLA     O fie, fie, fie!

 

Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade;

 

Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd;

 

’Tis best that thou diest quickly. [going]

 

CLAUDIO     O hear me, Isabella.

150

DUKE [advancing]

 

Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.

 

ISABELLA     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.

155

ISABELLA     I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must

 

be stolen out of other affairs: but I will attend you a

 

while. [Waits behind.]

 

DUKE     Son, I have overheard what hath passed between

 

you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to

160

corrupt her; only he hath made an assay of her virtue,

 

to practise his judgement with the disposition of

 

natures. She, having the truth of honour in her, hath

 

made him that gracious denial which he is most glad

 

to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this

165

to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not

 

satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible;

 

tomorrow you must die; go to your knees, and make

 

ready.

 

CLAUDIO     Let me ask my sister pardon; I am so out of

170

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

 

DUKE     Hold you there: farewell. – [Claudio retires.]

 

Provost, a word with you.

 

PROVOST [advancing] What’s your will, father?

 

DUKE     That, now you are come, you will be gone. Leave

175

me a while with the maid; my mind promises with my

 

habit no loss shall touch her by my company.

 

PROVOST     In good time.

 

     Exit with Claudio. Isabella comes forward.

 

DUKE     The hand that hath made you fair hath made you

 

good. The goodness that is cheap in beauty makes

180

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

 

your complexion, shall 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

185

at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute,

 

and to save your brother?

 

ISABELLA     I am now going to resolve him. I had rather

 

my brother die by the law, than my son should be

 

unlawfully born. But O, how much is the good Duke

190

deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, 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

195

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

200

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.

 

ISABELLA     Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to

 

do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my

205

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?

 

ISABELLA     I have heard of the lady, and good words went

210

with her name.

 

DUKE     She should this Angelo have married: was

 

affianced to her oath, and the nuptial appointed.

 

Between which time of the contract and limit of the

 

solemnity, her brother Frederick was wracked at sea,

215

having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister.

 

But mark how heavily this befell 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

220

fortune, her marriage dowry; with both, her

 

combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.

 

ISABELLA     Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her?

 

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

 

with his comfort: swallowed his vows whole,

225

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.

 

ISABELLA     What a merit were it in death to take this poor

230

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

235

from dishonour in doing it.

 

ISABELLA     Show me how, good father.

 

DUKE     This forenamed maid hath yet in her the

 

continuance of her first affection. His unjust

 

unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched

240

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

245

be long; that the place may have all shadow and silence

 

in it; and the time answer to convenience. This being

 

granted in course, and now follows all. We shall advise

 

this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go

 

in your place. If the encounter acknowledge itself

250

hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense; and

 

hear, 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

255

as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the

 

deceit from reproof. What think you of it?

 

ISABELLA     The image of it gives me content already, and

 

I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.

 

DUKE     It lies much in your holding up. Haste you

260

speedily to Angelo; if for this night he entreat you to

 

his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will

 

presently to Saint Luke’s; there at the moated grange

 

resides this dejected Mariana; at that place call upon

 

me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.

265

ISABELLA     I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well,

 

good father.     Exit Isabella.

 

3.2 Enter ELBOW and officers with POMPEY.

ELBOW     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!

 

POMPEY     ’Twas never merry world since, of two usuries,

5

the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by

 

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

 

furred with fox on lambskins too, to signify that craft,

 

being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.

 

ELBOW     Come your way, sir. – Bless you, good father

10

friar.

 

DUKE     And you, good brother father. What offence hath

 

this man made you, sir?

 

ELBOW     Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we

 

take him to be a thief too, sir: for we have found upon

15

him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we have sent to the

 

deputy.

 

DUKE     Fie, sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd;

 

The evil that thou causest to be done,

 

That is thy means to live. Do thou but think

20

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,

25

So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.

 

POMPEY

 

Indeed it does stink in some sort, sir. But yet, sir,

 

would prove –

 

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

 

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

30

Correction and instruction must both work

 

Ere this rude beast will profit.

 

ELBOW     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

35

as good go a mile on his errand.

 

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

 

From our faults, as faults from seeming, free!

 

ELBOW     His neck will come to your waist – a cord, sir.

 

Enter LUCIO.

 

POMPEY     I spy comfort, I cry bail! Here’s a gentleman,

40

and a friend of mine.

 

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

 

Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none

 

of Pygmalion’s images newly made woman to be had

 

now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting

45

clutched? What reply, ha? What say’st thou to this

 

tune, matter and method? Is’t not drowned i’th’ 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?

50

DUKE     Still thus, and thus: still worse!

 

LUCIO     How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress?

 

Procures she still, ha?

 

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

 

she is herself in the tub.

55

LUCIO     Why, ’tis good: it is the right of it: it must be so.

 

Ever your fresh whore, and your powdered bawd; an

 

unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to

 

prison, Pompey?

 

POMPEY     Yes, faith, sir.

60

LUCIO     Why, ’tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I

 

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

 

POMPEY     For being a bawd, for being a bawd.

 

LUCIO     Well, then, imprison him. If imprisonment be

 

the due of a bawd, why, ’tis his right. Bawd is he

65

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.

 

POMPEY     I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail?

70

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.

75

LUCIO     Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?

 

ELBOW [to Pompey] Come your ways, sir, come.

 

POMPEY     You will not bail me then, sir?

 

LUCIO     Then, Pompey, nor now. – What news abroad,

 

friar? What news?

80

ELBOW [to Pompey] Come your ways, sir, come.

 

LUCIO     Go to kennel, Pompey, go.

 

     Exeunt Elbow and officers with Pompey.

 

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

85

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

90

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.

95

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 allied; 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

100

this downright way of creation: is it true, think you?

 

DUKE     How should he be made, then?

 

LUCIO     Some report, a sea-maid spawned him. Some,

 

that he was begot between two stockfishes. But it is

 

certain that when he makes water, his urine is

105

congealed 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 codpiece to take away the life of a man!

110

Would the Duke that is absent have done this? Ere he

 

would have hanged 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.

115

DUKE     I have 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;

120

and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish; 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 of his. A shy fellow was the

125

Duke; and I believe I know the cause of his

 

withdrawing.

 

DUKE     What, I prithee, might be the cause?

 

LUCIO     No, pardon: ’tis a secret must be locked within

 

the teeth and the lips. But this I can let you

130

understand: the greater file of the subject held the

 

Duke to be wise.

 

DUKE     Wise? Why, no question but he was.

 

LUCIO     A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow –

 

DUKE     Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking. The

135

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

140

speak unskilfully: or, if your knowledge be more, it is

 

much darkened in your malice.

 

LUCIO     Sir, I know him and I love him.

 

DUKE     Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge

 

with dearer love.

145

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 – let me desire you to make your

 

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

150

have courage to maintain it; I am 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 report you.

155

LUCIO     I fear you not.

 

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?

160

LUCIO     I’ll be hanged first. Thou art deceived in me,

 

friar. But no more of this. – Canst thou tell if Claudio

 

die tomorrow, or no?

 

DUKE     Why should he die, sir?

 

LUCIO     Why? For filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I

165

would the Duke we talk of were returned again: this

 

ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with

 

continency. Sparrows must not build in his house-

 

eaves, because they are lecherous. – The Duke yet

 

would have dark deeds darkly answered: he would

170

never bring them to light: would he were returned!

 

Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. –

 

Farewell, good friar, I prithee pray for me. The Duke,

 

I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He’s

 

now past it; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth

175

with a beggar though she smelt brown bread and

 

garlic, say that I said so. Farewell.     Exit.

 

DUKE     No might nor greatness in mortality

 

Can censure ‘scape. Back-wounding calumny

 

The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong

180

Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?

 

But who comes here?

 

Enter severally ESCALUS, Provost and officers with
MISTRESS OVERDONE.

 

ESCALUS     Go, away with her to prison.

 

MISTRESS OVERDONE     Good my lord, be good to me.

 

Your honour is accounted a merciful man. Good my

185

lord.

 

ESCALUS     Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit

 

in the same kind! This would make mercy swear and

 

play the tyrant.

 

PROVOST     A bawd of eleven years’ continuance, may it

190

please your honour.

 

MISTRESS OVERDONE     My lord, this is one Lucio’s

 

information against me, Mistress Kate Keep-down

 

was with child by him in the Duke’s time, he promised

 

her marriage. His child is a year and a quarter old

195

come Philip and Jacob. I have kept it myself; and see

 

how he goes about to abuse me.

 

ESCALUS     That fellow is a fellow of much license. Let

 

him be called before us. Away with her to prison. – Go

 

to, no more words.

200

     Exeunt officers with Mistress Overdone.

 

Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered;

 

Claudio must die tomorrow. Let him be furnished

 

with divines, and have all charitable preparation. If my

 

brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with

 

him.

205

PROVOST     So please you, this friar hath been with him,

 

and advised him for th’entertainment of death.

 

ESCALUS     Good even, good father.

 

DUKE     Bliss and goodness on you!

 

ESCALUS     Of whence are you?

210

DUKE     Not of this country, though my chance is now

 

To use it for my time. I am a brother

 

Of gracious order, late come from the See

 

In special business from his Holiness.

 

ESCALUS     What news abroad i’th’ world?

215

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

 

goodness that the dissolution of it must cure it.

 

Novelty is only in request, and it is as dangerous to be

 

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

 

constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth

220

enough alive to make societies secure; but security

 

enough to make fellowships accurst. 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?

225

ESCALUS     One that, above all other strifes, contended

 

especially to know himself.

 

DUKE     What pleasure was he given to?

 

ESCALUS     Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than

 

merry at anything which professed to make him

230

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.

235

DUKE     He professes to have received no sinister measure

 

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

 

deceiving promises of life, which I, by my good

240

leisure, have discredited to him; and now is he

 

resolved to die.

 

ESCALUS     You have paid the heavens your function, and

 

the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have

 

laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest

245

shore of my modesty, but my brother-justice have I

 

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

 

is indeed Justice.

 

DUKE     If his own life answer the straitness of his

 

proceeding, it shall become him well: wherein if he

250

chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.

 

ESCALUS     I am going to visit the prisoner; fare you well.

 

DUKE     Peace be with you. Exeunt Escalus and Provost.

 

He who the sword of heaven will bear

 

Should be as holy as severe:

255

Pattern in himself to know,

 

Grace to stand, and virtue, go:

 

More nor less to others paying

 

Than by self-offences weighing.

 

Shame to him whose cruel striking

260

Kills for faults of his own liking!

 

Twice treble shame on Angelo,

 

To weed my vice, and let his grow!

 

O, what may man within him hide,

 

Though angel on the outward side!

265

How may likeness made in crimes,

 

Making practice on the times

 

To draw with idle spiders’ strings

 

Most ponderous and substantial things!

 

Craft against vice I must apply.

270

With Angelo tonight shall lie

 

His old betrothed, but despised:

 

So disguise shall by th’disguised

 

Pay with falsehood false exacting,

 

And perform an old contracting. Exit.

275

4.1 Enter MARIANA, and a boy singing.
Song.

Take, o take those lips away

 

that so sweetly were forsworn,

 

And those eyes, the break of day

 

lights that do mislead the morn:

 

But my kisses bring again,

 

bring again;

5

Seals of love, but seal’d in vain,

 

seal’d in vain.

 

Enter DUKE, disguised.

 

MARIANA

 

Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away;

 

Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice

 

Hath often still’d my brawling discontent.     Exit boy.

 

I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish

10

You had not found me here so musical.

 

Let me excuse me, and believe me so;

 

My mirth it much displeas’d, but pleas’d my woe.

 

DUKE     ’Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm

 

To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.

15

I pray you tell me, hath anybody enquired for me here

 

to-day? Much upon this time have I promised here to

 

meet.

 

MARIANA You have not been enquired after: I have

 

sat here all day.

20

Enter ISABELLA.

 

DUKE     I do constantly believe you: the time is come even

 

now. I shall crave your forbearance a little; may be I

 

will call upon you anon for some advantage to

 

yourself.

 

MARIANA I am always bound to you.     Exit.

25

DUKE [to Isabella] Very well met, and well come.

 

What is the news from this good deputy?

 

ISABELLA     He hath a garden circummur’d with brick,

 

Whose western side is with a vineyard back’d;

 

And to that vineyard is a planched gate,

30

That makes his opening with this bigger key.

 

This other doth command a little door

 

Which from the vineyard to the garden leads;

 

There have I made my promise

 

Upon the heavy middle of the night

35

To call upon him.

 

DUKE     But shall you on your knowledge find this way?

 

ISABELLA     I have ta’en a due and wary note upon’t;

 

With whispering and most guilty diligence,

 

In action all of precept, he did show me

40

The way twice o’er.

 

DUKE     Are there no other tokens

 

Between you ’greed, concerning her observance?

 

ISABELLA     No; none, but only a repair i’th’ dark;

 

And that I have possess’d him my most stay

 

Can be but brief: for I have made him know

45

I have a servant comes with me along,

 

That stays upon me; whose persuasion is

 

I come about my brother.

 

DUKE     ’Tis well borne up.

 

I have not yet made known to Mariana

 

A word of this. – What hoa, within! Come forth.

50

Enter MARIANA.

 

[to Mariana] I pray you be acquainted with this maid;

 

She comes to do you good.

 

ISABELLA     I do desire the like.

 

DUKE     Do you persuade yourself that I respect you?

 

MARIANA

 

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

 

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

55

Who hath a story ready for your ear.

 

I shall attend your leisure; but make haste,

 

The vaporous night approaches.

 

MARIANA [to Isabella]     Will’t please you walk aside?

 

     [Mariana and Isabella withdraw.]

 

DUKE     O place and greatness! Millions of false eyes

60

Are stuck upon thee: volumes of report

 

Run with these false, and most contrarious quest

 

Upon thy doings: thousand escapes of wit

 

Make thee the father of their idle dream

 

And rack thee in their fancies.

 

     [Mariana and Isabella return.]

 

     Welcome; how agreed?

65

ISABELLA     She’ll take the enterprise upon her, father,

 

If you advise it.

 

DUKE     It is not my consent,

 

But my entreaty too.

 

ISABELLA     Little have you to say

 

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

 

‘Remember now my brother’.

 

MARIANA     Fear me not.

70

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

 

He is your husband on a pre-contract:

 

To bring you thus together ’tis no sin,

 

Sith that the justice of your title to him

 

Doth flourish the deceit. – Come, let us go;

75

Our corn’s to reap, for yet our tithe’s to sow. Exeunt.

 

4.2 Enter Provost and POMPEY.

PROVOST     Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man’s

 

head?

 

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

 

a married man, he’s his wife’s head; and I can never

 

cut off a woman’s head.

5

PROVOST     Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield

 

me a direct answer. Tomorrow morning are to die

 

Claudio and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a

 

common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper;

 

if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem

10

you from your gyves: if not, you shall have your full

 

time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an

 

unpitied whipping; for you have been a notorious

 

bawd.

 

POMPEY     Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of

15

mind, but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman.

 

I would be glad to receive some instruction from my

 

fellow-partner.

 

PROVOST     What hoa, Abhorson! Where’s Abhorson

 

there?

20

Enter ABHORSON.

 

ABHORSON     Do you call, sir?

 

PROVOST     Sirrah, here’s a fellow will help you tomorrow

 

in your execution. If you think it meet, compound

 

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

 

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

25

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

 

ABHORSON     A bawd, sir? Fie upon him, he will discredit

 

our mystery.

 

PROVOST     Go to, sir, you weigh equally: a feather will

30

turn the scale.     Exit.

 

POMPEY     Pray, sir, by your good favour – for surely, sir, a

 

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

 

– do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery?

 

ABHORSON     Ay, sir, a mystery.

35

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

 

your whores, sir, being members of my occupation,

 

using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery. But

 

what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should

 

be hanged, I cannot imagine.

40

ABHORSON     Sir, it is a mystery.

 

POMPEY     Proof?

 

ABHORSON     Every true man’s apparel fits your thief. If it

 

be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big

 

enough. If it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks

45

it little enough. So every true man’s apparel fits your

 

thief.

 

Enter Provost.

 

PROVOST     Are you agreed?

 

POMPEY     Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your

 

hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he

50

doth oftener ask forgiveness.

 

PROVOST     You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe

 

tomorrow four o’clock.

 

ABHORSON     Come on, bawd, I will instruct thee in my

 

trade. Follow.

55

POMPEY     I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have

 

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

 

me yare. For truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a

 

good turn.

 

PROVOST     Call hither Barnardine and Claudio.

60

     Exeunt Abhorson and Pompey.

 

Th’one has my pity; not a jot the other,

 

Being a murderer, though he were my brother.

 

Enter CLAUDIO.

 

Look, here’s the warrant, Claudio, for thy death;

 

’Tis now dead midnight, and by eight tomorrow

 

Thou must be made immortal. Where’s Barnardine?

65

CLAUDIO     As fast lock’d up in sleep as guiltless labour

 

When it lies starkly in the traveller’s bones.

 

He will not wake.

 

PROVOST     Who can do good on him?

 

Well, go; prepare yourself.

 

[knocking within]     But hark, what noise?

 

Heaven give your spirits comfort!     Exit Claudio.

 

[knocking]      – By and by. –

70

I hope it is some pardon or reprieve

 

For the most gentle Claudio.

 

Enter DUKE, disguised.

 

     Welcome, father.

 

DUKE     The best and wholesom’st spirits of the night

 

Envelop you, good Provost! Who call’d here of late?

 

PROVOST     None since the curfew rung.

75

DUKE     Not Isabel?

 

PROVOST     No.

 

DUKE     They will then, ere’t be long.

 

PROVOST     What comfort is for Claudio?

 

DUKE     There’s some in hope.

 

PROVOST     It is a bitter deputy.

 

DUKE     Not so, not so; his life is parallel’d

 

Even with the stroke and line of his great justice.

80

He doth with holy abstinence subdue

 

That in himself which he spurs on his power

 

To qualify in others: were he meal’d with that

 

Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous;

 

But this being so, he’s just.

 

[Knocking within. Provost goes to the door.]

 

     – Now are they come.

85

This is a gentle provost; seldom when

 

The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. [knocking]

 

How now? What noise? That spirit’s possess’d with haste

 

That wounds th’unsisting postern with these strokes.

 

[Provost returns.]

 

PROVOST     There must he stay until the officer

90

Arise to let him in. He is call’d up.

 

DUKE     Have you no countermand for Claudio yet,

 

But he must die tomorrow?

 

PROVOST     None, sir, none.

 

DUKE     As near the dawning, Provost, as it is,

 

You shall hear more ere morning.

 

PROVOST     Happily

95

You something know: yet I believe there comes

 

No countermand. No such example have we.

 

Besides, upon the very siege of justice

 

Lord Angelo hath to the public ear

 

Profess’d the contrary.

 

Enter a Messenger.

 

     This is his lordship’s man.

100

DUKE     And here comes Claudio’s pardon.

 

MESSENGER My lord hath sent you this note, and by me

 

this further charge: that you swerve not from the

 

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

 

circumstance. Good-morrow; for, as I take it, it is

105

almost day.

 

PROVOST     I shall obey him.     Exit Messenger.

 

DUKE [aside] This is his pardon, purchas’d by such sin

 

For which the pardoner himself is in.

 

Hence hath offence his quick celerity,

110

When it is borne in high authority.

 

When vice makes mercy, mercy’s so extended

 

That for the fault’s love is th’offender friended.

 

Now, sir, what news?

 

PROVOST     I told you: Lord Angelo, belike thinking me

115

remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted

 

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

 

before.

 

DUKE     Pray you, let’s hear.

 

PROVOST [Reads.] Whatsoever you may hear to the

120

contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock, and

 

in the afternoon, Barnardine. For my better satisfaction,

 

let me have Claudio’s head sent me by five. Let this be

 

duly performed, with a thought that more depends on it

 

than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office,

125

as you will answer it at your peril.

 

What say you to this, sir?

 

DUKE     What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed in

 

th’afternoon?

 

PROVOST     A Bohemian born, but here nursed up and

130

bred; one that is a prisoner nine years old.

 

DUKE     How came it that the absent Duke had not either

 

delivered him to his liberty, or executed him? I have

 

heard it was ever his manner to do so.

 

PROVOST     His friends still wrought reprieves for him;

135

and indeed, his fact till now in the government of

 

Lord Angelo came not to an undoubtful proof.

 

DUKE     It is now apparent?

 

PROVOST     Most manifest, and not denied by himself.

 

DUKE     Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? How

140

seems he to be touched?

 

PROVOST     A man that apprehends death no more

 

dreadfully but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless,

 

and fearless of what’s past, present, or to come:

 

insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.

145

DUKE     He wants advice.

 

PROVOST     He will hear none. He hath evermore had the

 

liberty of the prison: give him leave to escape hence,

 

he would not. Drunk many times a day, if not many

 

days entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as

150

if to carry him to execution, and showed him a

 

seeming warrant for it; it hath not moved him at all.

 

DUKE     More of him anon. There is written in your brow,

 

Provost, honesty and constancy; if I read it not truly,

 

my ancient skill beguiles me. But in the boldness of

155

my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard. Claudio,

 

whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater

 

forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenced

 

him. To make you understand this in a manifested

 

effect, I crave but four days’ respite: for the which, you

160

are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy.

 

PROVOST     Pray sir, in what?

 

DUKE     In the delaying death.

 

PROVOST     Alack, how may I do it? Having the hour

 

limited, and an express command under penalty to

165

deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my

 

case as Claudio’s to cross this in the smallest.

 

DUKE     By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, if my

 

instructions may be your guide: let this Barnardine be

 

this morning executed, and his head borne to Angelo.

170

PROVOST     Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover

 

the favour.

 

DUKE     O, death’s a great disguiser; and you may add to

 

it. Shave the head, and tie the beard, and say it was the

 

desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death:

175

you know the course is common. If anything fall to

 

you upon this, more than thanks and good fortune, by

 

the saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with

 

my life.

 

PROVOST     Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath.

180

DUKE     Were you sworn to the Duke, or to the Deputy?

 

PROVOST     To him, and to his substitutes.

 

DUKE     You will think you have made no offence if the

 

Duke avouch the justice of your dealing?

 

PROVOST     But what likelihood is in that?

185

DUKE     Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet, since I

 

see you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor

 

persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go further

 

than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Look you,

 

sir, here is the hand and seal of the Duke: you know

190

the character, I doubt not, and the signet is not strange to you?

 

PROVOST     I know them both.

 

DUKE     The contents of this is the return of the Duke:

 

you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure, where you

195

shall find within these two days he will be here. This

 

is a thing that Angelo knows not; for he this very day

 

receives letters of strange tenour, perchance of the

 

Duke’s death, perchance entering into some

 

monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ.

200

Look, th’unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not

 

yourself into amazement how these things should be;

 

all difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call

 

your executioner, and off with Barnardine’s head. I

 

will give him a present shrift, and advise him for a

205

better place. Yet you are amazed; but this shall

 

absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear

 

dawn.     Exeunt.

 

4.3 Enter POMPEY.

POMPEY     I am as well acquainted here as I was in our

 

house of profession: one would think it were Mistress

 

Overdone’s own house, for here be many of her old

 

customers. First, here’s young Master Rash; he’s in

 

for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, nine

5

score and seventeen pounds; of which he made five

 

marks ready money: marry, then, ginger was not much

 

in request, for the old women were all dead. Then is

 

there here one Master Caper, at the suit of Master

 

Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-

10

coloured satin, which now peaches him a beggar.

 

Then have we here young Dizie, and young Master

 

Deep-vow, and Master Copperspur, and Master

 

Starve-Lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young

 

Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master

15

Forthright the tilter, and brave Master Shoe-tie the

 

great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed pots,

 

and I think forty more, all great doers in our trade, and

 

are now ‘for the Lord’s sake’.

 

Enter ABHORSON.

 

ABHORSON     Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.

20

POMPEY     Master Barnardine! You must rise and be

 

hanged, Master Barnardine.

 

ABHORSON     What hoa, Barnardine!

 

BARNARDINE [within] A pox o’ your throats! Who makes

 

that noise there? What are you?

25

POMPEY     Your friends, sir, the hangman. You must be so

 

good, sir, to rise and be put to death.

 

BARNARDINE [within] Away, you rogue, away; I am

 

sleepy.

 

ABHORSON     Tell him he must awake, and that quickly

30

too.

 

POMPEY     Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are

 

executed, and sleep afterwards.

 

ABHORSON     Go in to him and fetch him out.

 

POMPEY     He is coming, sir, he is coming. I hear his straw

35

rustle.

 

Enter BARNARDINE.

 

ABHORSON     Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?

 

POMPEY     Very ready, sir.

 

BARNARDINE     How now, Abhorson? What’s the news

 

with you?

40

ABHORSON     Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into

 

your prayers; for look you, the warrant’s come.

 

BARNARDINE     You rogue, I have been drinking all night;

 

I am not fitted for’t.

 

POMPEY     O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night,

45

and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the

 

sounder all the next day.

 

Enter DUKE, disguised.

 

ABHORSON     Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly

 

father. Do we jest now, think you?

 

DUKE     Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how

50

hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you,

 

comfort you, and pray with you.

 

BARNARDINE     Friar, not I. I have been drinking hard all

 

night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they

 

shall beat out my brains with billets. I will not consent

55

to die this day, that’s certain.

 

DUKE     O sir, you must; and therefore I beseech you

 

Look forward on the journey you shall go.

 

BARNARDINE     I swear I will not die today for any man’s

 

persuasion.

60

DUKE     But hear you –

 

BARNARDINE     Not a word. If you have anything to say to

 

me, come to my ward: for thence will not I today.

 

     Exit.

 

Enter Provost.

 

DUKE     Unfit to live or die! O gravel heart.

 

PROVOST     After him, fellows, bring him to the block!

65

Exeunt Abhorson and Pompey.

 

Now sir, how do you find the prisoner?

 

DUKE     A creature unprepar’d, unmeet for death;

 

And to transport him in the mind he is

 

Were damnable.

 

PROVOST     Here in the prison, father,

 

There died this morning of a cruel fever

70

One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,

 

A man of Claudio’s years; his beard and head

 

Just of his colour. What if we do omit

 

This reprobate till he were well inclin’d,

 

And satisfy the deputy with the visage

75

Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

 

DUKE     O, ’tis an accident that heaven provides.

 

Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on

 

Prefix’d by Angelo. See this be done,

 

And sent according to command, whiles I

80

Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.

 

PROVOST     This shall be done, good father, presently.

 

But Barnardine must die this afternoon;

 

And how shall we continue Claudio,

 

To save me from the danger that might come

85

If he were known alive?

 

DUKE     Let this be done: put them in secret holds,

 

Both Barnardine and Claudio.

 

Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting

 

To yonder generation, you shall find

90

Your safety manifested.

 

PROVOST     I am your free dependant.

 

DUKE     Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo.

 

     Exit Provost.

 

Now will I write letters to Angelo,

 

The Provost, he shall bear them, whose contents

 

Shall witness to him I am near at home;

95

And that by great injunctions I am bound

 

To enter publicly. Him I’ll desire

 

To meet me at the consecrated fount

 

A league below the city; and from thence,

 

By cold gradation and well-balanc’d form,

100

We shall proceed with Angelo.

 

Enter Provost.

 

PROVOST     Here is the head; I’ll carry it myself.

 

DUKE     Convenient is it. Make a swift return;

 

For I would commune with you of such things

 

That want no ear but yours.

 

PROVOST     I’ll make all speed.     Exit.

105

ISABELLA [within] Peace, hoa, be here!

 

DUKE     The tongue of Isabel. She’s come to know

 

If yet her brother’s pardon be come hither;

 

But I will keep her ignorant of her good,

 

To make her heavenly comforts of despair

110

When it is least expected.

 

Enter ISABELLA.

 

ISABELLA     Hoa, by your leave!

 

DUKE

 

Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.

 

ISABELLA     The better, given me by so holy a man.

 

Hath yet the deputy sent my brother’s pardon?

 

DUKE     He hath releas’d him, Isabel, – from the world.

115

His head is off, and sent to Angelo.

 

ISABELLA     Nay, but it is not so!

 

DUKE     It is no other. Show your wisdom, daughter,

 

In your close patience.

 

ISABELLA     O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes!

120

DUKE     You shall not be admitted to his sight.

 

ISABELLA     Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel!

 

Injurious world! most damned Angelo!

 

DUKE     This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot.

 

Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven.

125

Mark what I say, which you shall find

 

By every syllable a faithful verity.

 

The Duke comes home tomorrow; – nay, dry your eyes –

 

One of our covent, and his confessor

 

Gives me this instance. Already he hath carried

130

Notice to Escalus and Angelo,

 

Who do prepare to meet him at the gates

 

There to give up their power. If you can pace your wisdom

 

In that good path that I would wish it go,

 

And you shall have your bosom on this wretch,

135

Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart,

 

And general honour.

 

ISABELLA     I am directed by you.

 

DUKE     This letter then to Friar Peter give;

 

’Tis that he sent me of the Duke’s return.

 

Say, by this token I desire his company

140

At Mariana’s house tonight. Her cause and yours

 

I’ll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you

 

Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo

 

Accuse him home and home. For my poor self,

 

I am combined by a sacred vow,

145

And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter.

 

Command these fretting waters from your eyes

 

With a light heart; trust not my holy order,

 

If I pervert your course. – Who’s here?

 

Enter LUCIO.

 

LUCIO     Good even.

 

Friar, where’s the Provost?

 

DUKE     Not within, sir.

150

LUCIO     O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see

 

thine eyes so red: thou must be patient. – I am fain to

 

dine and sup with water and bran: I dare not for my

 

head fill my belly: one fruitful meal would set me to’t.

 

– But they say the Duke will be here tomorrow. By my

155

troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother; if the old fantastical

 

duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived.

 

     Exit Isabella.

 

DUKE     Sir, the Duke is marvellous little beholding to

 

your reports; but the best is, he lives not in them.

 

LUCIO     Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well as I do.

160

He’s a better woodman than thou tak’st him for.

 

DUKE     Well! you’ll answer this one day. Fare ye well.

 

[going]

 

LUCIO     Nay tarry, I’ll go along with thee: I can tell thee

 

pretty tales of the Duke.

 

DUKE     You have told me too many of him already, sir, if

165

they be true: if not true, none were enough.

 

LUCIO     I was once before him for getting a wench with

 

child.

 

DUKE     Did you such a thing?

 

LUCIO     Yes, marry, did I; but I was fain to forswear it;

170

they would else have married me to the rotten medlar.

 

DUKE     Sir, your company is fairer than honest; rest you

 

well. [going]

 

LUCIO     By my troth, I’ll go with thee to the lane’s end.

 

If bawdy talk offend you, we’ll have very little of it.

175

Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr, I shall stick. Exeunt.

 

4.4 Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS.

ESCALUS     Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched

 

other.

 

ANGELO     In most uneven and distracted manner. His

 

actions show much like to madness; pray heaven his

 

wisdom be not tainted. And why meet him at the gates

5

and redeliver our authorities there?

 

ESCALUS     I guess not.

 

ANGELO     And why should we proclaim it in an hour

 

before his entering, that if any crave redress of

 

injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the

10

street?

 

ESCALUS     He shows his reason for that: to have a

 

dispatch of complaints, and to deliver us from devices

 

hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand

 

against us.

15

ANGELO     Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaim’d

 

Betimes i’th’ morn: I’ll call you at your house.

 

Give notice to such men of sort and suit

 

As are to meet him.

 

ESCALUS     I shall, sir: fare you well.

 

ANGELO     Good night.     Exit Escalus.

20

This deed unshapes me quite; makes me unpregnant

 

And dull to all proceedings. A deflower’d maid;

 

And by an eminent body, that enforc’d

 

The law against it! But that her tender shame

 

Will not proclaim against her maiden loss,

25

How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no,

 

For my authority bears so credent bulk

 

That no particular scandal once can touch,

 

But it confounds the breather. He should have liv’d;

 

Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense,

30

Might in the times to come have ta’en revenge

 

By so receiving a dishonour’d life

 

With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had lived.

 

Alack, when once our grace we have forgot,

 

Nothing goes right; we would, and we would not.

35

     Exit.

 

4.5 Enter DUKE, in his own habit, and FRIAR PETER.

DUKE     These letters at fit time deliver me.

 

The Provost knows our purpose and our plot;

 

The matter being afoot, keep your instruction,

 

And hold you ever to our special drift,

 

Though sometimes you do blench from this to that

5

As cause doth minister. Go call at Flavius’ house,

 

And tell him where I stay. Give the like notice

 

To Valencius, Rowland, and to Crassus,

 

And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate:

 

But send me Flavius first.

 

FRIAR     PETER It shall be speeded well.

10

     Exit Friar.

 

Enter Varrius.

 

DUKE

 

I thank thee, Varrius, thou hast made good haste.

 

Come, we will walk. There’s other of our friends

 

Will greet us here anon. My gentle Varrius!     Exeunt.

 

4.6 Enter ISABELLA and MARIANA.

ISABELLA     To speak so indirectly I am loth;

 

I would say the truth, but to accuse him so

 

That is your part; yet I am advis’d to do it,

 

He says, to veil full purpose.

 

MARIANA     Be rul’d by him.

 

ISABELLA     Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure

5

He speak against me on the adverse side,

 

I should not think it strange, for ’tis a physic

 

That’s bitter to sweet end.

 

Enter FRIAR PETER.

 

MARIANA     I would Friar Peter –

 

ISABELLA     O peace, the friar is come.

 

FRIAR PETER

 

Come, I have found you out a stand most fit,

10

Where you may have such vantage on the Duke

 

He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded.

 

The generous and gravest citizens

 

Have hent the gates, and very near upon

 

The Duke is ent’ring: therefore hence, away.     Exeunt.

15

5.1 Enter at several doors DUKE, in his own habit,
Varrius, lords and attendants; ANGELO,
ESCALUS, LUCIO and citizens.

DUKE     My very worthy cousin, fairly met.

 

Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you.

 

ANGELO, ESCALUS

 

Happy return be to your royal grace!

 

DUKE     Many and hearty thankings to you both.

 

We have made enquiry of you, and we hear

5

Such goodness of your justice that our soul

 

Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks,

 

Forerunning more requital.

 

ANGELO     You make my bonds still greater.

 

DUKE

 

O, but your desert speaks loud, and I should wrong it

10

To lock it in the wards of covert bosom,

 

When it deserves with characters of brass

 

A forted residence ’gainst the tooth of time

 

And razure of oblivion. Give we our hand,

 

And let the subject see, to make them know

15

That outward courtesies would fain proclaim

 

Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus,

 

You must walk by us on our other hand;

 

And good supporters are you.

 

Enter FRIAR PETER and ISABELLA.

 

FRIAR PETER

 

Now is your time: speak loud, and kneel before him.

20

ISABELLA     Justice, O royal Duke! Vail your regard

 

Upon a wrong’d – I would fain have said, a maid.

 

O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye

 

By throwing it on any other object,

 

Till you have heard me in my true complaint,

25

And given me justice! Justice! Justice! Justice!

 

DUKE

 

Relate your wrongs. In what? By whom? Be brief.

 

Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice,

 

Reveal yourself to him.

 

ISABELLA     O worthy Duke,

 

You bid me seek redemption of the devil.

30

Hear me yourself: for that which I must speak

 

Must either punish me, not being believ’d,

 

Or wring redress from you.

 

Hear me! O hear me, hear!

 

ANGELO     My lord, her wits I fear me are not firm.

35

She hath been a suitor to me for her brother,

 

Cut off by course of justice.

 

ISABELLA     By course of justice!

 

ANGELO     And she will speak most bitterly and strange.

 

ISABELLA     Most strange: but yet most truly will I speak.

 

That Angelo’s forsworn, is it not strange?

40

That Angelo’s a murderer, is’t not strange?

 

That Angelo is an adulterous thief,

 

An hypocrite, a virgin-violator,

 

Is it not strange, and strange?

 

DUKE     Nay, it is ten times strange!

45

ISABELLA     It is not truer he is Angelo,

 

Than this is all as true as it is strange;

 

Nay, it is ten times true, for truth is truth

 

To th’end of reck’ning.

 

DUKE     Away with her. Poor soul,

 

She speaks this in th’infirmity of sense.

50

ISABELLA     O Prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ’st

 

There is another comfort than this world,

 

That thou neglect me not with that opinion

 

That I am touch’d with madness. Make not impossible

 

That which but seems unlike. ’Tis not impossible

55

But one, the wicked’st caitiff on the ground,

 

May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,

 

As Angelo; even so may Angelo,

 

In all his dressings, caracts, titles, forms,

 

Be an arch-villain. Believe it, royal Prince,

60

If he be less, he’s nothing; but he’s more,

 

Had I more name for badness.

 

DUKE     By mine honesty,

 

If she be mad, as I believe no other,

 

Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense,

 

Such a dependency of thing on thing,

65

As e’er I heard in madness.

 

ISABELLA     O gracious Duke,

 

Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason

 

For inequality; but let your reason serve

 

To make the truth appear where it seems hid,

 

And hide the false seems true.

 

DUKE     Many that are not mad

70

Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say?

 

ISABELLA     I am the sister of one Claudio,

 

Condemn’d upon the act of fornication

 

To lose his head; condemn’d by Angelo.

 

I – in probation of a sisterhood –

75

Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio

 

As then the messenger.

 

LUCIO     That’s I, and’t like your Grace.

 

I came to her from Claudio, and desir’d her

 

To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo

 

For her poor brother’s pardon.

 

ISABELLA     That’s he indeed.

80

DUKE [to Lucio] You were not bid to speak.

 

LUCIO     No, my good lord,

 

Nor wish’d to hold my peace.

 

DUKE     I wish you now, then;

 

Pray you take note of it;

 

And when you have a business for yourself,

 

Pray heaven you then be perfect.

 

LUCIO     I warrant your honour.

85

DUKE     The warrant’s for yourself: take heed to’t.

 

ISABELLA     This gentleman told somewhat of my tale.

 

LUCIO     Right.

 

DUKE     It may be right, but you are i’ the wrong

 

To speak before your time. – Proceed.

 

ISABELLA     I went

90

To this pernicious caitiff Deputy.

 

DUKE     That’s somewhat madly spoken.

 

ISABELLA     Pardon it;

 

The phrase is to the matter.

 

DUKE     Mended again. The matter: proceed.

 

ISABELLA     In brief, to set the needless process by –

95

How I persuaded, how I pray’d and kneel’d,

 

How he refell’d me, and how I replied

 

(For this was of much length) – the vile conclusion

 

I now begin with grief and shame to utter.

 

He would not, but by gift of my chaste body

100

To his concupiscible intemperate lust,

 

Release my brother; and after much debatement,

 

My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,

 

And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes,

 

His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant

105

For my poor brother’s head.

 

DUKE     This is most likely!

 

ISABELLA     O, that it were as like as it is true.

 

DUKE

 

By heaven, fond wretch, thou know’st not what thou speak’st,

 

Or else thou art suborn’d against his honour

 

In hateful practice. First, his integrity

110

Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason

 

That with such vehemency he should pursue

 

Faults proper to himself. If he had so offended,

 

He would have weigh’d thy brother by himself,

 

And not have cut him off. Someone hath set you on:

115

Confess the truth, and say by whose advice

 

Thou cam’st here to complain.

 

ISABELLA     And is this all?

 

Then, O you blessed ministers above,

 

Keep me in patience, and with ripen’d time

 

Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up

120

In countenance! Heaven shield your Grace from woe,

 

As I, thus wrong’d, hence unbelieved go.

 

DUKE     I know you’d fain be gone. An officer!

 

To prison with her! [Isabella is placed under guard.]

 

     Shall we thus permit

 

A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall

125

On him so near us? This needs must be a practice.

 

Who knew of your intent and coming hither?

 

ISABELLA     One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.

 

     Exit guarded.

 

DUKE

 

A ghostly father, belike. – Who knows that Lodowick?

 

LUCIO     My lord, I know him. ’Tis a meddling friar;

130

I do not like the man; had he been lay, my lord,

 

For certain words he spake against your Grace

 

In your retirement, I had swing’d him soundly.

 

DUKE     Words against me! This’ a good friar belike.

 

And to set on this wretched woman here

135

Against our substitute! Let this friar be found.

 

LUCIO     But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar,

 

I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar,

 

A very scurvy fellow.

 

FRIAR PETER     Bless’d be your royal Grace!

 

I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard

140

Your royal ear abus’d. First hath this woman

 

Most wrongfully accus’d your substitute,

 

Who is as free from touch or soil with her

 

As she from one ungot.

 

DUKE     We did believe no less.

 

Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of?

145

FRIAR PETER     I know him for a man divine and holy,

 

Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler,

 

As he’s reported by this gentleman;

 

And, on my trust, a man that never yet

 

Did, as he vouches, misreport your Grace.

150

LUCIO     My lord, most villainously; believe it.

 

FRIAR PETER

 

Well, he in time may come to clear himself;

 

But at this instant he is sick, my lord:

 

Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request,

 

Being come to knowledge that there was complaint

155

Intended ‘gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither,

 

To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know

 

Is true and false; and what he with his oath

 

And all probation will make up full clear

 

Whensoever he’s convented. First, for this woman,

160

To justify this worthy nobleman

 

So vulgarly and personally accus’d,

 

Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,

 

Till she herself confess it.

 

DUKE     Good friar, let’s hear it.

 

Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?

165

O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools!

 

Give us some seats. – Come, cousin Angelo,

 

In this I’ll be impartial: be you judge

 

Of your own cause.

 

Enter MARIANA, veiled.

 

          Is this the witness, friar?

 

First, let her show her face, and after, speak.

170

MARIANA Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face

 

Until my husband bid me.

 

DUKE     What, are you married?

 

MARIANA No, my lord.

 

DUKE     Are you a maid?

 

MARIANA No, my lord.

175

DUKE     A widow, then?

 

MARIANA Neither, my lord.

 

DUKE     Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife!

 

LUCIO     My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them

180

are neither maid, widow nor wife.

 

DUKE     Silence that fellow! I would he had some cause to

 

prattle for himself.

 

LUCIO     Well, my lord.

 

MARIANA My lord, I do confess I ne’er was married;

185

And I confess besides, I am no maid.

 

I have known my husband; yet my husband

 

Knows not that ever he knew me.

 

LUCIO

 

He was drunk then, my lord; it can be no better.

 

DUKE

 

For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too.

190

LUCIO     Well, my lord.

 

DUKE     This is no witness for Lord Angelo.

 

MARIANA Now I come to’t, my lord.

 

She that accuses him of fornication

 

In self-same manner doth accuse my husband,

195

And charges him, my lord, with such a time

 

When I’ll depose I had him in mine arms

 

With all th’effect of love.

 

ANGELO     Charges she moe than me?

 

MARIANA Not that I know.

 

DUKE     No? You say your husband.

200

MARIANA Why just, my lord, and that is Angelo,

 

Who thinks he knows that he ne’er knew my body,

 

But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel’s.

 

ANGELO     This is a strange abuse. Let’s see thy face.

 

MARIANA [unveiling]

 

My husband bids me; now I will unmask.

205

This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,

 

Which once thou swor’st was worth the looking on:

 

This is the hand which, with a vow’d contract,

 

Was fast belock’d in thine: this is the body

 

That took away the match from Isabel

210

And did supply thee at thy garden-house,

 

In her imagin’d person.

 

DUKE     Know you this woman?

 

LUCIO     Carnally, she says.

 

DUKE     Sirrah, no more!

 

LUCIO     Enough, my lord.

 

ANGELO     My lord, I must confess I know this woman;

215

And five years since, there was some speech of marriage

 

Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off,

 

Partly for that her promised proportions

 

Came short of composition; but in chief

 

For that her reputation was disvalu’d

220

In levity: since which time of five years

 

I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her,

 

Upon my faith and honour.

 

MARIANA     Noble Prince,

 

As there comes light from heaven, and words from breath,

 

As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue,

225

I am affianc’d this man’s wife, as strongly

 

As words could make up vows. And, my good lord,

 

But Tuesday night last gone, in’s garden house,

 

He knew me as a wife. As this is true

 

Let me in safety raise me from my knees,

230

Or else for ever be confixed here,

 

A marble monument.

 

ANGELO     I did but smile till now:

 

Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice.

 

My patience here is touch’d: I do perceive

 

These poor informal women are no more

235

But instruments of some more mightier member

 

That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord,

 

To find this practice out.

 

DUKE     Ay, with my heart;

 

And punish them to your height of pleasure.

 

Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman,

240

Compact with her that’s gone: think’st thou thy oaths,

 

Though they would swear down each particular saint,

 

Were testimonies against his worth and credit,

 

That’s seal’d in approbation? You, Lord Escalus,

 

Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains

245

To find out this abuse, whence ’tis deriv’d.

 

There is another friar that set them on;

 

Let him be sent for.

 

FRIAR PETER

 

Would he were here, my lord; for he indeed

 

Hath set the women on to this complaint.

250

Your Provost knows the place where he abides,

 

And he may fetch him.

 

DUKE     Go, do it instantly.

 

     Exit an attendant.

 

And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,

 

Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,

 

Do with your injuries as seems you best

255

In any chastisement. I for a while will leave you;

 

But stir not you till you have well determin’d

 

Upon these slanderers.

 

ESCALUS     My lord, we’ll do it throughly.

 

     Exit Duke.

 

Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar

 

Lodowick to be a dishonest person?

260

LUCIO     Cucullus non facit monachum: honest in nothing

 

but in his clothes, and one that hath spoke most

 

villainous speeches of the Duke.

 

ESCALUS     We shall entreat you to abide here till he come,

 

and enforce them against him. We shall find this friar

265

a notable fellow.

 

LUCIO     As any in Vienna, on my word!

 

ESCALUS     Call that same Isabel here once again; I would

 

speak with her.     Exit an attendant.

 

Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall

270

see how I’ll handle her.

 

LUCIO     Not better than he, by her own report.

 

ESCALUS     Say you?

 

LUCIO     Marry, sir, I think if you handled her privately

 

she would sooner confess; perchance publicly she’ll be

275

ashamed.

 

Enter at several doors Provost with DUKE, in
disguise and hooded, and ISABELLA under guard.

 

ESCALUS     I will go darkly to work with her.

 

LUCIO     That’s the way; for women are light at midnight.

 

ESCALUS     Come on, mistress, here’s a gentlewoman

 

denies all that you have said.

280

LUCIO     My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of, here with the Provost.

 

ESCALUS     In very good time. Speak not you to him till we call upon you.

 

LUCIO     Mum.

285

ESCALUS     Come, sir: did you set these women on to

 

slander Lord Angelo? They have confess’d you did.

 

DUKE     ’Tis false.

 

ESCALUS     How! Know you where you are?

 

DUKE     Respect to your great place; and let the devil

290

Be sometime honour’d for his burning throne.

 

Where is the Duke? ’Tis he should hear me speak.

 

ESCALUS

 

The Duke’s in us; and we will hear you speak;

 

Look you speak justly.

 

DUKE     Boldly, at least. But O, poor souls,

295

Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox?

 

Good-night to your redress! Is the Duke gone?

 

Then is your cause gone too. The Duke’s unjust

 

Thus to retort your manifest appeal,

 

And put your trial in the villain’s mouth

300

Which here you come to accuse.

 

LUCIO     This is the rascal: this is he I spoke of.

 

ESCALUS     Why, thou unreverend and unhallow’d friar!

 

Is’t not enough thou hast suborn’d these women

 

To accuse this worthy man, but in foul mouth,

305

And in the witness of his proper ear,

 

To call him villain? And then to glance from him

 

To th’ Duke himself, to tax him with injustice?

 

Take him hence! To th’ rack with him! – We’ll touse you

 

Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose.

310

What! Unjust!

 

DUKE     Be not so hot: the Duke

 

Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he

 

Dare rack his own. His subject am I not,

 

Nor here provincial. My business in this state

 

Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,

315

Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble

 

Till it o’errun the stew: laws for all faults,

 

But faults so countenanc’d that the strong statutes

 

Stand like the forfeits in a barber’s shop,

 

As much in mock as mark.

 

ESCALUS     Slander to th’ state!

320

Away with him to prison!

 

ANGELO

 

What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio?

 

Is this the man that you did tell us of?

 

LUCIO     ’Tis he, my lord. – Come hither, goodman

 

Baldpate, do you know me?

325

DUKE     I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice;

 

I met you at the prison, in the absence of the Duke.

 

LUCIO     O, did you so? And do you remember what you

 

said of the Duke?

 

DUKE     Most notedly, sir.

330

LUCIO     Do you so, sir? And was the Duke a fleshmonger,

 

a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be?

 

DUKE     You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you

 

make that my report. You indeed spoke so of him, and

 

much more, much worse.

335

LUCIO     O, thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by

 

the nose for thy speeches?

 

DUKE     I protest, I love the Duke as I love myself.

 

ANGELO     Hark how the villain would close now, after his

 

treasonable abuses!

340

ESCALUS     Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. Away

 

with him to prison! Where is the Provost? Away with

 

him to prison! Lay bolts enough upon him: let him

 

speak no more. Away with those giglets too, and with

 

the other confederate companion!

345

[The Provost lays hands on the Duke.]

 

DUKE     Stay, sir, stay a while.

 

ANGELO     What, resists he? Help him, Lucio.

 

LUCIO     Come, sir! Come, sir! Come, sir! Foh, sir! Why,

 

you bald-pated, lying rascal! – You must be hooded,

 

must you? Show your knave’s visage, with a pox to

350

you! Show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an

 

hour! Will’t not off?

 

[Pulls off the friar’s hood and discovers the Duke.]

 

DUKE     Thou art the first knave that e’er mad’st a duke.

 

First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three.

 

[to Lucio] Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and you

355

Must have a word anon. – Lay hold on him.

 

LUCIO [aside] This may prove worse than hanging.

 

DUKE [to Escalus] What you have spoke, I pardon: sit you down.

 

We’ll borrow place of him.

 

[to Angelo]     Sir, by your leave.

 

Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence,

360

That yet can do thee office? If thou hast,

 

Rely upon it till my tale be heard,

 

And hold no longer out.

 

ANGELO     O my dread lord,

 

I should be guiltier than my guiltiness

 

To think I can be undiscernible,

365

When I perceive your Grace, like power divine,

 

Hath looked upon my passes. Then, good prince,

 

No longer session hold upon my shame,

 

But let my trial be mine own confession.

 

Immediate sentence, then, and sequent death

370

Is all the grace I beg.

 

DUKE     Come hither, Mariana. –

 

Say: wast thou e’er contracted to this woman?

 

ANGELO     I was, my lord.

 

DUKE     Go, take her hence, and marry her instantly.

 

Do you the office, friar; which consummate,

375

Return him here again. Go with him, Provost.

 

     Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Friar Peter and Provost.

 

ESCALUS     My lord, I am more amaz’d at his dishonour

 

Than at the strangeness of it.

 

DUKE     Come hither, Isabel.

 

Your friar is now your prince. As I was then,

 

Advertising and holy to your business,

380

Not changing heart with habit, I am still

 

Attorney’d at your service.

 

ISABELLA     O, give me pardon,

 

That I, your vassal, have employ’d and pain’d

 

Your unknown sovereignty.

 

DUKE     You are pardon’d, Isabel.

 

And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.

385

Your brother’s death, I know, sits at your heart:

 

And you may marvel why I obscur’d myself,

 

Labouring to save his life, and would not rather

 

Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power

 

Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid,

390

It was the swift celerity of his death,

 

Which I did think with slower foot came on,

 

That brain’d my purpose. But peace be with him.

 

That life is better life, past fearing death,

 

Than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort,

395

So happy is your brother.

 

ISABELLA     I do, my lord.

 

Enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER and Provost.

 

DUKE     For this new-married man approaching here,

 

Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong’d

 

Your well defended honour, you must pardon

 

For Mariana’s sake: but as he adjudg’d your brother,

400

Being criminal in double violation

 

Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach

 

Thereon dependent, for your brother’s life,

 

The very mercy of the law cries out

 

Most audible, even from his proper tongue:

405

‘An Angelo for Claudio; death for death.

 

Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;

 

Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure.’

 

Then, Angelo, thy fault’s thus manifested,

 

Which, though thou would’st deny, denies thee vantage.

410

We do condemn thee to the very block

 

Where Claudio stoop’d to death, and with like haste.

 

Away with him.

 

MARIANA     O my most gracious lord,

 

I hope you will not mock me with a husband.

 

DUKE     It is your husband mock’d you with a husband.

415

Consenting to the safeguard of your honour,

 

I thought your marriage fit: else imputation,

 

For that he knew you, might reproach your life,

 

And choke your good to come. For his possessions,

 

Although by confiscation they are ours,

420

We do instate and widow you with all,

 

To buy you a better husband.

 

MARIANA     O my dear lord,

 

I crave no other, nor no better man.

 

DUKE     Never crave him; we are definitive.

 

MARIANA Gentle my liege –

 

DUKE     You do but lose your labour.

425

Away with him to death.

 

[to Lucio]     Now, sir, to you.

 

MARIANA [kneeling]

 

O my good lord – sweet Isabel, take my part;

 

Lend me your knees, and all my life to come

 

I’ll lend you all my life to do you service.

 

DUKE     Against all sense you do importune her.

430

Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact,

 

Her brother’s ghost his paved bed would break,

 

And take her hence in horror.

 

MARIANA     Isabel!

 

Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me;

 

Hold up your hands, say nothing: I’ll speak all.

435

They say best men are moulded out of faults,

 

And, for the most, become much more the better

 

For being a little bad. So may my husband.

 

O Isabel! Will you not lend a knee?

 

DUKE     He dies for Claudio’s death.

 

ISABELLA [kneeling]     Most bounteous sir:

440

Look, if it please you, on this man condemn’d

 

As if my brother liv’d. I partly think

 

A due sincerity govern’d his deeds

 

Till he did look on me. Since it is so,

 

Let him not die. My brother had but justice,

445

In that he did the thing for which he died:

 

For Angelo,

 

His act did not o’ertake his bad intent,

 

And must be buried but as an intent

 

That perish’d by the way. Thoughts are no subjects;

450

Intents, but merely thoughts.

 

MARIANA     Merely, my lord.

 

DUKE     Your suit’s unprofitable. Stand up, I say.

 

I have bethought me of another fault.

 

Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded

 

At an unusual hour?

 

PROVOST     It was commanded so.

455

DUKE     Had you a special warrant for the deed?

 

PROVOST     No, my good lord: it was by private message.

 

DUKE     For which I do discharge you of your office.

 

Give up your keys.

 

PROVOST     Pardon me, noble lord;

 

I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;

460

Yet did repent me after more advice.

 

For testimony whereof, one in the prison

 

That should by private order else have died,

 

I have reserv’d alive.

 

DUKE     What’s he?

 

PROVOST     His name is Barnardine.

 

DUKE     I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.

465

Go, fetch him hither, let me look upon him.

 

     Exit Provost.

 

ESCALUS     I am sorry one so learned and so wise

 

As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear’d,

 

Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood

 

And lack of temper’d judgement afterward.

470

ANGELO     I am sorry that such sorrow I procure,

 

And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart

 

That I crave death more willingly than mercy;

 

’Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.

 

Enter Provost with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO,
muffled, and JULIET.

 

DUKE     Which is that Barnardine?

 

PROVOST     This, my lord.

475

DUKE     There was a friar told me of this man.

 

Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul

 

That apprehends no further than this world,

 

And squar’st thy life according. Thou’rt condemn’d;

 

But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all,

480

And pray thee take this mercy to provide

 

For better times to come. Friar, advise him;

 

I leave him to your hand. – What muffl’d fellow’s that?

 

PROVOST     This is another prisoner that I sav’d,

 

Who should have died when Claudio lost his head;

485

As like almost to Claudio as himself.

 

[Unmuffles Claudio.]

 

DUKE [to Isabella]

 

If he be like your brother, for his sake

 

Is he pardon’d; and for your lovely sake

 

Give me your hand and say you will be mine.

 

He is my brother too: but fitter time for that.

490

By this Lord Angelo perceives he’s safe;

 

Methinks I see a quickening in his eye.

 

Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well.

 

Look that you love your wife: her worth, worth yours.

 

I find an apt remission in myself.

495

And yet here’s one in place I cannot pardon.

 

[to Lucio] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward,

 

One all of luxury, an ass, a madman:

 

Wherein have I so deserv’d of you

 

That you extol me thus?

500

LUCIO     Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the

 

trick: if you will hang me for it, you may: but I had

 

rather it would please you I might be whipped.

 

DUKE     Whipp’d first, sir, and hang’d after.

 

Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city,

505

If any woman wrong’d by this lewd fellow,

 

– As I have heard him swear himself there’s one

 

Whom he begot with child – let her appear,

 

And he shall marry her. The nuptial finish’d,

 

Let him be whipp’d and hang’d.

510

LUCIO     I beseech your Highness, do not marry me to a

 

whore. Your Highness said even now, I made you a

 

duke; good my lord, do not recompense me in making

 

me a cuckold.

 

DUKE     Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.

515

Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal

 

Remit thy other forfeits. – Take him to prison,

 

And see our pleasure herein executed.

 

LUCIO     Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death,

 

Whipping, and hanging.

 

DUKE     Slandering a prince deserves it.

520

She, Claudio, that you wrong’d, look you restore.

 

Joy to you, Mariana; love her, Angelo:

 

I have confess’d her, and I know her virtue.

 

Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness;

 

There’s more behind that is more gratulate.

525

Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrecy;

 

We shall employ thee in a worthier place.

 

Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home

 

The head of Ragozine for Claudio’s:

 

Th’offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel,

530

I have a motion much imports your good;

 

Whereto if you’ll a willing ear incline,

 

What’s mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.

 

So bring us to our palace, where we’ll show

 

What’s yet behind that’s meet you all should know.

535

     Exeunt omnes.