That brain'd my purpose: But peace be with him! Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort, Isab. Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost. Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here, Your well-defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother, (Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach, Most audible, even from his proper tongue, "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: Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste Mari. O my most gracious lord, Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband: Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life, We do instate and widow you withal, To buy you a better husband. Mari. O, my dear lord, I crave no other nor no better man. Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive. Mari. [Kneeling.] Gentle, my liege, Duke. You do but lose your labour; Away with him to death.-[To Lucio.] Now, sir, to you. Mari. 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 impórtune her: Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror. Mari. Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Duke. He dies for Claudio's death. Isab. [Kneeling.] Most bounteous sir Look if it please you, on this man condemn'd, 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, 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; Mari. Merely, my lord. Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded Prov. It was commanded so. Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed? What's he? Duke. Ang. 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. [Exit Provost. Re-enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Juliet. Duke. Which is that Barnardine? Prov. This, my lord. 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; 1 Consideration. Prov. This is another prisoner that I sav'd, [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, Look that you love your wife; her worth, worth yours.- And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon: You, sirrah, [To Lucio.] that knew me for a fool, a coward, Wherein have I so deserved of you, That you extol me thus ? Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick:2 If you will hang me for it, you may, but I had rather it would please you, I might be whipp'd. Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after.. Let her appear, and he shall marry her: The nuptial finish'd, let him be whipp'd and hang'd. Your highness said even now, I made you a duke; good my lord, do not recompense me so. Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits :-Take him to prison: And see our pleasure herein executed. Lucio. Marrying me so, my lord, is pressing to death, whip ping, and hanging. Duke. Sland'ring a prince deserves it. 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: 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. [Exeunt. SCENE 1.-BEFORE LEONATO'S HOUSE. Enter Leonato, Hero, Beatrice, and others, with a Messenger. Leon. I learn in this letter, that Don Pedro of Arragon comes this night to Messina. Mess. He is very near by this; he was not three leagues off when I left him. Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost in this action? Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the achiever brings home full numbers. I find here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much honour on a young Florentine, called Claudio. Mess. Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by Don Pedro: He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age; doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion: he hath, indeed, better bettered expectation, than you must expect of me to tell you how. Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be very much glad of it. Mess. I have already delivered him letters, and there appears much joy in him; even so much, that joy could not show itself modest enough, without a badge of bitterness. Leon. Did he break out into tears? Mess. In great measure.1 1 Abundance. Leon. A kind overflow of kindness: There are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping. Beat. I pray you, is signior Montanto returned from the wars, or no? Mess. I know none of that name, lady; there was none such in the army of any sort. Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece? Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick of Padua. Mess. O, he is returned; and as pleasant as ever he was. Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, and challenged Cupid at the flight and my uncle's fool, reading the challenge, subscribed for Cupid, and challenged him at the bird-bolt.—I pray you, how many hath he killed and eaten in these wars? But how many hath he killed? for, indeed, I promised to eat all of his killing. Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too much; but he'll be meet with you, I doubt it not. Mess. He hath done good service, lady, in these wars. Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath holp to eat it: he is a very valiant trencher-man, he hath an excellent stomach. Mess. And a good soldier too, lady. Beat. And a good soldier to a lady.—But what is he to a lord? Mess. A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed with all honourable virtues. Beat. It is so, indeed, he is no less than a stuffed man but for the stuffing.-Well, we are all mortal. Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece: there is a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedick and her: they never meet, but there is a skirmish of wit between them. Beat. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now is the whole man governed with one: so that if he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse for it is all the wealth that he hath left, to be known a reasonable creature.-Who is his companion now? He hath every month a new sworn brother. Mess. Is it possible? Beat. Very easily possible: he wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat; it ever changes with the next block. Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in your books. Beat. No: an he were, I would burn my study. But, I pray you, who is his companion? Is there no young squarer1 now, that will make a voyage with him to the devil? Mess. He is most in the company of the right noble Claudio. Beat. He will hang upon him like a disease: he is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. Heaven help the noble Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured. Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady. Beat. Do, good friend. Leon. You will never run mad, niece. Beat. No, not till a hot January. Mess. Don Pedro is approached. 1 Quarreller. |