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SCENE IV.-A Room in Angelo's House.
Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words: Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name ; And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil Of my conception: The state whereon I studied, Is like a good thing, being often read, Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity, Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume, Which the air beats for vane. O place! O form! How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood: Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, "Tis not the devil's crest.
Ang. Yet may he live awhile; and it may be, As long as you, or I : yet he must die. Isab. Under your sentence?
Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
To save this brothers life?
Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poise 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 : 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.
Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears
Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,
Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself: That is, Were I under the terms of death, The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield My body up to shame.
Then must your brother die. Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way:
Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Better it were, a brother die at once, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted,
That his soul sicken not.
Ang. Ha! Fye, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen
A man already made, as to remit
Their sawcy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image,
Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
Than that a sister, by redeeming him,
Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slander'd so?
Isab. Ignominy in ransom, and free pardon,
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.
Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean: I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail. Isab.
Else let my brother die.
Nay, women are frail too.
If not a feodary, but only he,
Women!-Help heaven! men their creation mar
I think it well :
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,If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art, ;-(Servile to all the skiey influences,)
Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell me,
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 it is,
To pluck on others.
Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.
Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believed,
That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,
And most pernicious purpose!-Seeming, seeming!-Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world
Who will believe thee, Isabel?
That you shall stifle in your own report,
That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
Or else he must not only die the death,
To lingering sufferance: answer me to-morrow,
Isab. To whom shall I complain? Did I tell this,
Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die :
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.
SCENE I-A Room in the Prison.
And death unloads thee: Friends hast thou none;
humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find, I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life: Let it come on.
Isab. What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company!
Prov. Who's there? come in the wish deserves a welcome.
Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio.
Isab. Yes, brother, you may live;
Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverish 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.
Why give you me this shame ?
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
Isab. There spake my brother; there my father's Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die: [grave Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,-
The princely Angelo? Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover
In princely guards! Dost thou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou might'st be freed?
Claud. O, heavens! it cannot be.
O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch!
Is't not a kind of incest, to take life
Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance:
Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
O, fye, fye, fye!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade:
[Going O hear me, Isabella.
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. 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 with the disposition of natures; she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that Thou shalt not do 't. gracious denial which he is most glad to receive: I
Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank
Isab. O, were it but my life,
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;
Isab. Which is the least?
Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise,
Death is a fearful thing
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; 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 of it. Duke. Hold you there: Farewell. [Exit CLAUDIO. Re-enter Provost.
Provost, a word with you.
Prov. What's your will, father?
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 brief in 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 convey'd 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.
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 O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can
speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover | resides this dejected Mariana: At that place call uphis government. on me; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly,
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 in the truth of my spirit.
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?
Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana the sister of Fre-ries, the merriest was put down, and the worser alderick, 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 marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.
Isab. Can this be 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 care of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.
Iscb. Shew me how, good father.
Clo. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two usulow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. Bless you, good fa
Elb. Come your way, sir: ther brother.
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 pick-lock, which we have sent to the deputy.
Duke. Fye, sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd!
Elb. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: were as good go a mile on his errand.
Free from our faults, as faults from seeming free!
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.
Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindlove, hath, like an impediment in the current, made ness, that in all reason should have quenched her 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 follows all. We Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your ap-heels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is pointment, go in your place; if the encounter acknow- there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her re-man, to be had now, for putting the hand in the poccompense: and here, by this, is your brother saved, ket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply? Ha? 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? Laab. The image of it gives me content already; and I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. Dake. 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
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 herself in the tub.
Lucio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it: it
must be so: Ever your fresh whore, and your pow- | dish: the duke had crotchets in him: He would be der'd bawd: An unshunn'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: If imprisonment 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; 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?
Clo. You will not bail me then, sir?
drunk too; that let me inform you.
Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of his : 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'd within 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. 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. Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and know
Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now. - - What news ledge with dearer love. abroad, friar? What news?
Elb. Come your ways, sir; come.
[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. 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 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.
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.
Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd: but it is impossible to ex-I tirp 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 you?
Duke. How should he be made then?
Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him Some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes: -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
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. I'll be hang'd first: thou art deceiv'd in me, friar. But no more of this: Canst thou tell, if Claudio die to-morrow, or no?
Duke. Why should he die, sir?
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 continency; 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 them to light: would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemn'd for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I pr'ythee, 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 with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlick: say, that I said so. Farewell.
Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality
Enter ESCALUS, Provost, Bawd, and Officers.
Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still for
Lucio. Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of feit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear, fifty-and his use was, to put a ducat in her clack-and play the tyrant.