as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for For which I must no plead, but that I am
thein; 1 do it for some piece of money, and go At war, 'twixt will, and will not.
through with all.
Escal. Look you, bring me in the names of
some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.
Elb. To your worship's house, sir?
Escal. To my house: Fare you well. [Exit
Elbow.] What's o'clock, think you?
Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me.
Just. I humbly thank you.
Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio;
But there's no remedy.
Just. Lord Angelo is severe.
Escal.
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so:
Pardon is still the nurse of second wo:
But yet,-Poor Claudio!-There's no remedy.
Come, sir.
SCENE II-Another room in the same.
Provost and a Servant.
Well; the maller
Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die:
do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.
Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces
Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it
Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done :
Mine were the very cypher of a function,
To find the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.
Isab.
O just, but severe law!
I had a brother then.-Heaven keep your honour!
[Retiring.
Lucio. [To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him
again, entreat him;
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
[Exeunt. You are too cold: if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
Enter To him, I say.
Ang.
Now, what's the matter, provost ?
Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow?
Ang. Did I not tell thee, yea? hadst thou not
order?
Why dost thou ask again?
Isab. Must he needs die?
Ang.
Maiden, no remedy.
Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.
Ang. I will not do't.
Isab.
But can you, if you would
Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.
Isab. But might you do't, and do the world n
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse1
As mine is to him?
Ang. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isabella. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word, May call it back again: Well believe this, No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Lest I might be too rash: The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, Under your good correction, I have seen, Become them with one half so good a grace, When, after execution, judgment hath As mercy does. If he had been as you, Repented o'er his doom. But he, like you, would not have been so stern. And you as he, you would have slipt like him; Ang. Pray you, begone.
Ang.
Go to; let that be mine;
Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you shall well be spar'd.
I crave your honour's pardon.-
What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?
She's very near her hour.
Ang.
Dispose of her
To some more fitter place; and that with speed.
Re-enter Servant.
Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd,
Ang.
Prov. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,
And to be shortly of a sisterhood,
If not already.
Well, let her be admitted. [Ex. Serv.
See you the fornicatress be remov'd;
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;
There shall be order for it.
Enter Lucio and Isabella.
Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once:
And He that might the vantage best have took,
Found out the remedy: How would you be,
If He, which is the top of judgment, should
But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.
Ang.
Be you content, fair maid.
It is the law, not I, condemns your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,
It should be thus with him;-He must die to-mor
There's many have committed it. Lucio.
Ay, well said. Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If the first man that did the edict infringe,
Had answer'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv'd,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,)
Are now to have no súccessive degrees,
But, where they live, to end.
Isab.
Yet show some pity. Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know,
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;
And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;
Your brother dies to-morrow: be content.
Shall I attend your lordship?
Ang.
Isab. Save your honour! [Exe. Luc. Isa. and Pro.
Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue!-
Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine?
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Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the soft myrtle:-0, but man, proud man!
Drest in a little brief authority;
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
His glassy essence,-like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven,
As make the angels weep: who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.
Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent;
He's coming, I perceive't.
Prov.
Pray heaven, she win him!
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:
treat men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them;
But, in less, foul profanation.
Lucio. Thou art in the right, girl; more o' that. Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Lucio. Art advis'd o' that? more on't. Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me? Isab. Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
That skims the vice o' the top: Go to your bosom; Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth know That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
A natural guiltiness, such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
Against my brother's life.
She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.you well.
Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back.
Ang. I will bethink me:-Come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my lord,
The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha!
Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I,
That lying by the violet, in the sun,
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be,
That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground
enough,
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,
And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou ? or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully, for those things
That make her good? O, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority,
When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her,
That I desire to hear her speak again,
And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art, and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite;-Ever, till now,
When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how.
[Exit.
SCENE III.—A room in a prison. Enter Duke,
habited like a Friar, and Provost.
Duke. Hail to you, provost; so, I think you are. Prov. I am the provost: What's your will, good friar?
Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order,
come to visit the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison: do me the common right
To let me see them; and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.
Prov. I would do more than that, if more we!! needful.
Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine, Who falling in the flames of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report: She is with child And he that got it, sentenc'd: a young man Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share More fit to do another such offence,
(1) Paltry. (2) Knotted. (3) Attested, stamped. (4) Preserved from the corruption of the world.
Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father. Duke. "Tis meet so, daughter: But lest you do repent,
Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his 1epriere Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted,
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,That his soul sicken not. Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not
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 vain. 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.
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Ang. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen
A man already made, as to remit
Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image,
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in restrained means,
To make a false one.
Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
Ang. Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, That the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness,
As she that he hath stain'd?
Isab.
Sir, believe this,
had rather give my body than my soul.
Ang. I talk not of your soul: Our compell❜d sins
Stand more for number than accompt.
Isab.
How say you?
Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Against the thing I say. Answer to this ;-
I, now the voice of the recorded law,
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:
Might there not be a charity in sin,
To save this brother's life?"
Isab. Please you to do't. I'll take it as a peril to my soul, It is no sin at all, but charity. Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poize of sin and charity.
Isab. That I do beg his life, if it he 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 arcignorant, 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 receiv'd plain, I'll speak more gross : Your brother is to die.
Accountant to the law upon that pain.
Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears
Isab. True.
Ang. Admit no other way to save his life
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
But in the loss of question,) that you, his sister,
Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-binding law; and that there were
No earthly mean to save him, but that either
You must lay down the treasures of your body
To this supposed, or else let him suffer;
What would you do?
Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself:
That is, Were I under the terms of death,
The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.
Then must your brother die.
Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way:
Better it were, a brother died at once,
Than that a sister, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.
Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
That you have slander'd so?
Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon,
Are of two houses: lawful mercy is
Nothing akin to foul redemption.
Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a ty-
rant,
And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment than a vice.
Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
To have what we'd have, we speak not what
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.
Isab.
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.
Ang.
Who will believe thee, Isabe
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun;
And now I give my sensual race the rein
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes,
That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will;
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance: answer me to-morrow,
Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him: As for you,
Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.
Isab. To whom shall I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof!
Bidding the law make court'sy to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.
Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die
Else let my brother die, More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,
If not a feodary, but only he,
Owe, and succeed by weakness.
Ang.
Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them-
selves;
Nay, women are frail too.
Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
Women!-Help heaven! men their creation mar
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.
In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; SCENE I.—A room in the prison. Enter Duke for we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints.
I think it well:
And from this testimony of your own sex
(Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger
Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold;
I do arrest your words; Be that you are,
That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;
If you be one (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants,) show it now,
By putting on the destin❜d livery.
Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me entreat you speak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.
Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you
tell me,
That he shall die for it.
Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.
Isab. I know, your virtue hath a license in't,
Which seems a little fouler than it is,
To pluck on others.
Ang.
Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.
Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And most pernicious purpose!-Seeming, sceming!
(1) Agree to. (2) Conversation. (3) Ignominy. (4) Associate. (5) Own. (6) Impressions.
Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord
Angelo ?
Claud. The miserable have no other medicine,
But only hope:
have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. Duke. Be absolute10 for death; either death, or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep a breath thou art
(Servile to all the skiey influences,)
That dost this habitation, where thou keep st,
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
And yet run'st toward him still: Thou art not noble,
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st,
Are nurs'd by baseness: Thou art by no means
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm: Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself,
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust: Happy thou art not:
(7) Hypocrisy. (S) Attestation. (9) Reluctant
(10) Determined.
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;
And what thou hast, forget'st; Thou art not certain;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,'
After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art poor;
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee: Friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner: Thou hast nor youth,
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg thee alms
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
Claud.
I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find, I seek to die
And, seeking death, find life: Let it come on.
Prov. Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.
Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you.
Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio. Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister.
Duke. Provost, a word with you.
As many as you please. Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be conceal'd,
Yet hear them. [Exeunt Duke and Provost.
Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort?
Isab. Why, as all comforts are; most good in-
deed;
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:"
Therefore your best appointments make with speed;
To-morrow you set on.
Claud.
Is there no remedy? Isab. None, but such remedy, as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain.
But is there any? Isab. Yes, brother, you may live; There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you'll implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you till death.
Perpetual durance? Isab. Ay, just, perpetual durance; a restraint, Though all the world's vastidity you had, To a determin'd scope.
Claud But in what nature? Isab. In such a one as (you consenting to't) Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked.
Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake fest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die?
(1) Affects, affections. (2) Leprous eruptions. 73) Old age. (4) Resident. (5) Preparation. 6) Vastness of extent. (7) Shut up.
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 dics.
Claud.
Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
From flowery tenderness? If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in mine arms.
Isab. There spake my brother; there my father's
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 settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i'the head, and follies doth enmew,"
As falcon doth the fowl,-is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.
Claud.
The princely Angelo?
Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'st body to invest and cover
In princely guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou mightest be freed?
Claud.
O, heavens! it cannot be.
Isah. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank
That I should do what I abhor to name,
So to offend him still: This night's the time
Or else thou diest to-morrow.
Claud.
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
Isab. O, were it but my life,
As frankly as a pin.
Claud.
Thanks, dear Isabel.
Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him,
When he would force it? Sure it is no sin;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.
Isab. Which is the least?
Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise, Why, would he for the momentary trick, Be perdurably 10 fined?-O, Isabel! Isab. What says my brother! Claud.
Death is a fearful thing Isab. And shamed life a hateful. Claud. Ay, but to do die, and go we know not
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded cold; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless" winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Imagine howling!-'tis too horrible!
The wearied and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
To what we fear of death.
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
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. Isab.
(8) Laced robes. (11) Invisible.
(9) Freely. (10) Lastingly
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