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}

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^{5 note}

Duke.

Wise? why, no question but he was.

Lucio.

A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing^{6 note} fellow.

Duke.

Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking;

the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed^{7 note}, 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 knowledge with dearer love.

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^{8 note}

Lucio.

I'll be hang'd first: thou art deceived 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. I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again: this ungenitur'd agent^{9 note} 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^{1 note}

I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlick^{3 note}: say, that I said so. Farewell.

Duke.
No might nor greatness in mortality
Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny
The whitest virtue strikes; What king so strong,
Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?
But who comes here? Enter Escalus, Provost, Bawd, and Officers.

Escal.

Go, away with her to prison.

Bawd.

Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man: good my lord.

Escal.

Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit^{4 note} in the same kind? This would make mercy swear, and play the tyrant^{5 note}

Prov.

A bawd of eleven years continuance, may it please your honour.

Bawd.

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, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself, and see how he goes about to abuse me.

Escal.

That fellow is a fellow of much licence:— let him be called before us.—Away with her to prison: Go to; no more words. [Exeunt Bawd and Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio must die to-morrow: 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.

Prov.

So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death.

Escal.

Good even, good father.

Duke.

Bliss and goodness on you!

Escal.

Of whence are you?

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^{6 note}

Escal.

What news abroad i' the world?

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 enough alive, to make societies secure; but security enough, to make fellowships accurs'd^{7 note}

Escal.

One, that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself.

Duke.

What pleasure was he given to?

Escal.

Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which profess'd to make him 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.

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 leisure, have discredited to him, and now is he resolved^{8 note}

to die.

Escal.

You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor gentleman, to the extremest 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^{9 note}.

Duke.

If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein, if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.

Escal.

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;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go^{1 note}

More nor less to others paying,
Than by self-offences weighing.
Shame to him, whose cruel striking
Kills for faults of his own liking!
Twice treble shame on Angelo,
To weed my vice, and let his grow^{2 note}

O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side^{3 note}!
How may likeness^{4 note}, made in crimes,
Mocking, practise on the times,
To draw with idle spiders' strings
Most pond'rous and substantial things^{5 note}

Craft against vice I must apply:
With Angelo to-night shall lie

His old betrothed, but despis'd;
So disguise shall, by the disguis'd^{6 note},
Pay with falshood, false exacting,
And perform an old contracting. [Exit.

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