you are Pompey the great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster. Are you not? come, tell me true; it shall be the better for you.

Clo.

Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow, that would live.

Escal.

How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?

Clo.

If the law would allow it, sir.

Escal.

But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.

Clo.

Does your worship mean to geld and spay all the youth in the city?

Escal.

No, Pompey.

Clo.

Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then: If your worship will take order^{8 note}
for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.

Escal.

There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: It is but heading and hanging.

Clo.

If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it, after three pence a bay^{9 note}

Escal.

Thank you, good Pompey: and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you,—I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever, no, not for dwelling where you do; if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Cæsar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

Clo.

I thank your worship for your good counsel; but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune shall better determine.

Whip me? No, no; let carmen whip his jade;
The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade. [Exit.

Escal.

Come hither to me, master Elbow; come hither, master Constable. How long have you been in this place of constable?

Elb.

Seven year and a half, sir.

Escal.

I thought, by your readiness^{1 note} in the office, you had continued in it some time: You say, seven years together?

Elb.

And a half, sir.

Escal.

Alas! it hath been great pains to you! They do you wrong to put you so oft upon't: Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it?

Elb.

Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go 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?

Just.

Eleven, sir.

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.
It is but needful:
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:

But yet,—Poor Claudio!—There's no remedy.
Come, sir. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Another Room in the Same. Enter Provost and a Servant.

Serv.
He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight.
I'll tell him of you.

Prov.
Pray you, do. [Exit Servant.] I'll know
His pleasure; may be, he will relent: Alas,
He hath but as offended in a dream!
All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he
To die for it!— Enter Angelo.

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?

Prov.
Lest I might be too rash:
Under your good correction, I have seen,
When, after execution, judgment hath
Repented o'er his doom.

Ang.
Go to; let that be mine:
Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you shall well be spar'd.

Prov.
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,
Desires access to you.

Ang.
Hath he a sister?

Prov.
Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,
And to be shortly of a sisterhood,
If not already.

Ang.
Well, let her be admitted. [Exit Servant.
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.

Prov.
Save your honour^{2 note}! [Offering to retire.

Ang.
Stay a little while^{3 note}

Isab.
I am a woeful suitor to your honour,
Please but your honour hear me.

Ang.
Well; what's your suit?

Isab.
There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war, 'twixt will, and will not^{4 note}

Ang.
Well; the matter?

Isab.
I have a brother is condemn'd to die:
I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother^{5 note}
.

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 cipher of a function,
To fine the faults^{6 note}

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, intreat him;
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
You are too cold: if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
To him, I say.

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 no wrong,
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse^{7 note}

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^{8 note}

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does. If he had been as you, and you as he,
You would have slipt like him; but he, like you,
Would not have been so stern.

Ang.
Pray you, begone.

Isab.
I would to heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabel! should it then be thus?
No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prisoner.

Lucio.
Ay, touch him: there's the vein. [Aside.

Ang.
Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words.

Isab.
Alas! alas!
Why, all the souls that were^{1 note}

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-morrow.

Isab.
To-morrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him:
He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season^{3 note}; shall we serve heaven
With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you:
Who is it that hath died for this offence?
There's many have committed it.

Lucio.
Ay, well said.

Ang.
The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept^{4 note}:
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If the first man that did the edict infringe^{5 note}

Looks in a glass^{6 note}

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^{9 note}

,
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.

Isab.
So you must be the first, that gives this sentence;
And he, that suffers: O, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant^{1 note}.

Lucio.
That's well said.

Isab.
Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
For every pelting^{2 note}

Than the soft myrtle;—But man, proud man^{4 note}

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^{7 note}

Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them;
But, in the less, foul profanation.

Lucio.
Thou'rt in the right, girl; more o' that.

Isab.
That in the captain's but a cholerick 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 skins the vice o' the top^{8 note}
: 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.

Ang.
She speaks, and 'tis
Such sense, that my sense breeds with it^{9 note}

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, turn back.

Ang.
How! bribe me?

Isab.
Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share with you.

Lucio.
You had marr'd all else.

Isab.
Not with fond shekels^{1 note} of the tested gold^{2 note}

Ere sun-rise; prayers from preserved souls^{3 note}

Ang.
Well: come to me
To-morrow.

Lucio.
Go to; it is well; away. [Aside to Isabel.

Isab.
Heaven keep your honour safe!

Ang.
Amen:
For I am that way going to temptation, [Aside.
Where prayers cross^{4 note}

Isab.
At what hour to-morrow
Shall I attend your lordship?

Ang.
At any time 'fore noon.

Isab.
Save your honour! [Exeunt Lucio, Isabella, and Provost.

Ang.
From thee; even from thy virtue!—
What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine?
The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha^{5 note}

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,
And pitch our evils there^{8 note}

And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
With saints doth 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^{9 note}. [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,
I 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 were needful. Enter Juliet.
Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flames of her own youth,

Hath blister'd her report^{2 note}

Duke.
When must he die?

Prov.
As I do think, to-morrow.—
I have provided for you; stay a while, [To Juliet.
And you shall be conducted.

Duke.
Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?

Juliet.
I do; and bear the shame most patiently.

Duke.
I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience,
And try your penitence, if it be sound,
Or hollowly put on.

Juliet.
I'll gladly learn.

Duke.
Love you the man that wrong'd you?

Juliet.
Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.

Duke.
So then, it seems, your most offenceful act
Was mutually committed?

Juliet.
Mutually.

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^{3 note}

Juliet.
I do repent me, as it is an evil;
And take the shame with joy.

Duke.
There rest^{5 note}.
Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.—
Grace go with you! Benedicite^{6 note}

Juliet.
Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love^{7 note}

Prov.
'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Room in Angelo's House. Enter Angelo^{8 note}



.

Ang.
When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words;
Whilst my invention^{9 note}

Anchors on Isabel^{1 note}

Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,
'Tis not the devil's crest^{8 note}

Enter Servant.
How now, who's there?

Serv.
One Isabel, a sister,
Desires access to you.

Ang.
Teach her the way. O heavens! [Exit Serv.
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart^{9 note}
;
Making both it unable for itself,
And dispossessing all the other parts
Of necessary fitness?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air
By which he should revive: and even so
The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,^{1 note}

Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Croud to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.

Enter Isabella.
How now, fair maid?

Isab.
I am come to know your pleasure.

Ang.
That you might know it, would much better please me,
Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.

Isab.
Even so?—Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring.

Ang.
Yet may he live a while; and, it may be,
As long as you, or I: Yet he must die.

Isab.
Under your sentence?

Ang.
Yea.

Isab.
When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve,
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^{2 note}
, as to remit
Their sawcy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image,
In stamps that are forbid^{3 note}

Falsely to take away a life true made^{4 note},
As to put mettle in restrained means^{5 note}

Isab.
'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth^{6 note}

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^{7 note},
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness,
As she that he hath stain'd?

Isab.
Sir, believe this,
I had rather give my body than my soul^{8 note}

Ang.
I talk not of your soul; Our compell'd sins
Stand more for number than accompt^{9 note}

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^{1 note},
Were equal poize of sin and charity.

Isab.
That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit,

If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your, answer^{2 note}

Ang.
Nay, but hear me:
Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or seem so, craftily^{3 note}; and that's not good.

Isab.
Let me be ignorant^{4 note}, 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^{5 note}

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

Isab.
So.

Ang.
And his offence is so, as it appears,
Accountant to the law upon that pain^{6 note}.

Isab.
True.

Ang.
Admit no other way to save his life,

(As I subscribe not that^{7 note}

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.

Ang.
Then must your brother die.

Isab.
And 'twere the cheaper way:
Better it were, a brother died at once^{2 note}
,
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^{3 note}

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,
If not a feodary, but only he^{5 note}

Owe^{6 note}, and succeed by weakness^{7 note}

Ang.
Nay, women are frail too.

Isab.
Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke as they make forms^{8 note}

.
Women!—Help heaven! men their creation mar
In profiting by them^{9 note}

For we are soft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints^{1 note}

Ang.
I think it well:
And from this testimony of your own sex,
(Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger
Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold;
I do arrest your words; Be that you are,
That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;
If you be one, (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants,) show it now,
By putting on the destin'd livery.

Isab.
I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me intreat you speak the former language^{2 note}.

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 licence in't^{3 note}

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, seeming^{5 note}!—
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, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you^{6 note}

And now I give my sensual race the rein^{8 note}:
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes^{9 note}

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^{2 note} of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour^{3 note}

,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.
Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. A Room in the Prison. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost.

Duke.
So, then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo?

Claud.
The miserable have no other medicine,
But only hope:
I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.

Duke.
Be absolute for death^{4 note}
; 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^{5 note}

(Servile to all the skiey influences,)
That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st^{6 note},
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^{7 note}

For all the accommodations that thou bear'st,
Are nurs'd by baseness^{8 note}

For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
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^{3 note}

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^{5 note}, 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^{6 note}

: for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palsied eld^{7 note}

Thou hast neither heat^{8 note}

That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths^{1 note}

Claud.
I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find, I seek to die;
And, seeking death, find life^{2 note}

Enter Isabella.

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^{3 note}.

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.

Prov.
As many as you please.

Duke.
Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be conceal'd,
Yet hear them^{4 note}

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

Isab.
Why, as all comforts are; most good indeed^{5 note}

Claud.
Is there no remedy?

Isab.
None, but such remedy, as, to save a head,
To cleave a heart in twain.

Claud.
But is there any?

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

Claud.
Perpetual durance?

Isab.
Ay, just, perpetual durance; a restraint,
Though all the world's vastidity^{7 note} you had,
To a determin'd scope^{8 note}
.

Claud.
But in what nature?

Isab.
In such a one as (you consenting to't)
Would bark your honour^{9 note} from that trunk you bear,
And leave you naked.

Claud.
Let me know the point.

Isab.
O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die?
The sense of death is most in apprehension;

And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies^{1 note}

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^{2 note}

Isab.
There spake my brother; there my father's grave
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^{3 note},
As falcon doth the fowl^{4 note}

His filth within being cast^{5 note}

, 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^{6 note}

If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou might'st be freed?

Claud.
O, heavens! it cannot be.

Isab.
Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank offence^{7 note},
So to offend him still; This night's the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou diest to-morrow.

Claud.
Thou shalt not do't.

Isab.
O, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin^{8 note}
.

Claud.
Thanks, dear Isabel.

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

Claud.
Yes.—Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
When he would force it^{9 note}

Isab.
Which is the least?

Claud.
If it were damnable^{2 note}

Be perdurably fin'd^{3 note}
?—O Isabel!

Isab.
What says my brother?

Claud.
Death is a fearful thing.

Isab.
And shamed life a hateful.

Claud.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where^{4 note}

;
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit^{5 note}

To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice^{6 note};
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds^{7 note}
,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts^{8 note}
Imagine howling!—'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ach, penury^{9 note}, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death^{1 note}

Isab.
Alas! alas!

Claud.
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.
O, you beast!
O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
Is't not a kind of incest^{1 note}, to take life
From thine own sister's shame? What should I think?
Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness^{2 note}

Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance^{3 note}
:
Die; perish! might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
No word to save thee.

Claud.
Nay, Hear me, Isabel.

Isab.
O, fye, fye, fye!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade^{4 note}:
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:
'Tis best that thou diest quickly. [Going.

Claud.
O hear me, Isabella. Re-enter Duke.

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 practice his judgment 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 to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death: Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible^{5 note}

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^{6 note}: 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^{7 note}.

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, shall 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 his government.

Duke.

That shall not be much amiss: Yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made trial of you only^{8 note}.—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.

Duke.

Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana the

sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea?

Isab.

I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.

Duke.

Her should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by oath^{9 note}, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity^{1 note}

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^{3 note}

Isab.

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

Duke.

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

Isab.

Show me how, good father.

Duke.

This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point: only refer yourself to this advantage^{4 note}

Duke.

O, heavens! what stuff is here?

Clo.

'Twas never merry world, since, of two usuries^{8 note}

worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too^{9 note}

Elb.

Come your way, sir:—Bless you, good father friar.

Duke.

And you, good brother father^{1 note}

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^{2 note}

Duke.
Fye, sirrah; a bawd, a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou causest to be done,
That is thy means to live: Do thou but think
What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back,
From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,—
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live^{3 note}

Clo.

Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove—

Duke.
Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,
Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer;
Correction and instruction must both work,
Ere this rude beast will profit.

Elb.

He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes

before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.

Duke.
That we were all, as some would seem to be,
From our faults, as faults from seeming, free^{4 note}

Enter Lucio.

Elb.

His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir^{5 note}

.

Clo.

I spy comfort; I cry, bail: Here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine.

Lucio.

How now, noble Pompey? What, at the heels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman^{6 note}

the pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain^{7 note}

Lucio.

Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so: Ever your fresh whore, and your powder'd bawd: An unshunn'd consequence^{2 note}: 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^{3 note}
. For debt, Pompey? Or how^{4 note}

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^{4 note}.

Clo.

I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail.

Lucio.

No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear^{5 note}. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more: Adieu, trusty Pompey.—Bless you, friar.

Duke.

And you.

Lucio.

Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?

Elb.

Come your ways, sir; come.

Clo.

You will not bail me then, sir?

Lucio.

Then, Pompey? nor now^{6 note}
.—What news abroad, friar? What news?

Elb.

Come your ways, sir; come.

Lucio.
Go,—to kennel, Pompey, go^{7 note}: [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^{8 note}, and severity must cure it.

Lucio.

Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well ally'd: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say, this Angelo was not made by man and woman, after the downright way of creation: Is it true, think 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^{9 note}

Duke.

You are pleasant, sir; and speak apace.

Lucio.

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

Duke.

I never heard the absent duke much detected for women^{1 note}

Lucio.

O, sir, you are deceived.

Duke.

'Tis not possible.

Lucio.

Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was, to put a ducat in her clack-dish^{2 note}

Duke.

You do him wrong, surely.

Lucio.

Sir, I was an inward of his^{3 note}