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.

Oh, heavens! what stuff is here?

Elb.

Come your way, Sir: bless you, good father Friar.

Duke.

And you, good brother; what offence hath this man made you, Sir?

Elb.

Marry, Sir, he hath offended the law; and, Sir, we take him to be a bawd.

Duke.
Fie, Sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou causest to be done,
That is thy means to live.
Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
So stinkingly depending! go, mend, mend.

Clown.

Indeed, it doth stink in some sort, Sir; but yet, Sir, I would prove—

Duke.
Nay, if the devil have giv'n 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 whore-master; if he be a whore-monger, 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, Free from all faults!

Clown.

I spy comfort: I cry bail: here's a gentleman and a friend of mine.

Lucio.

How now, noble Pompey? what, at the wheels of Cæsar? art thou led in triumph? what, is there none of Pigmalion's images newly made women, to be had now? how doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? procures she still? ha. Art going to prison, Pompey?

Clown.

Yes, faith, Sir.

Lucio.

Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey: farewel: 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. Farewel, good Pompey: commend me to the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.

Clown.

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

Lucio.

No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it 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.

Elb.

Come your ways, Sir, come.

Clown.

You will not bail me, then, Sir?

Lucio.

Then, Pompey! no, nor now. What news abroad, Friar? what news?

Elb.

Come your ways, Sir, come.

Lucio.
Go to kennel, Pompey, go. [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 wenching, 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.

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.

Duke.

You are pleasant, Sir, and speak apace.

Lucio.

Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him? 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; he was not inclin'd that way.

Lucio.

Oh, Sir, you are deceiv'd.

Duke.

'Tis not possible.

Lucio.

Who, not the Duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was, to put a ducket in her clack-dish. The Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk, too, that let me inform you.

Duke.

You do him wrong, surely.

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, pr'ythee, might be the cause?

Lucio.

No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be lockt 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 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; but, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this, again?

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 funnel. Farewel, good Friar; I pr'ythee, pray for me: the Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Friday. He's now past it; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, tho' she smelt of brown* ^note bread and garlick: say, that I said so; farewel.

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 sland'rous tongue† ^note? Enter Escalus, Provost.

‡ ^noteEscal.

Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd; Claudio must die, to-morrow: if my brother wrought by my pity, it would not be so with him.

Prov.

So please you, this Friar hath been with him, and advis'd 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, tho' my chance is now
To use it for my time: I am a brother
Of gracious order come from the see of Rome,
In special business from his Holiness.

Escal.
What news abroad i'th' world?

Duke.* ^note

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. Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world; this news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, Sir, of what disposition was the Duke?

Escal.
One, that, above all other strifes,
Contended specially to know himself.

Duke.
What pleasure was he giv'n to?

Escal.

Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which profest 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 prepar'd? 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 fram'd 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 resolv'd to die.

Escal.

You have paid the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the good gentleman; but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath forc'd me to tell him, he is indeed justice.

Duke.

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

Escal.

I am going to visit the prisoner; fare you well.

Duke.
Peace be with you!
He who the sword of heav'n will bear,
Should be as holy as severe* ^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!
Oh, what may man within him hide,
Tho' angel on the outward side!
Craft against vice I must apply.
With Angelo to-night, shall lie
His old betrothed, but despis'd;
So disguise shall by th' disguis'd,
Pay with falshood false exacting,
And perform an old contracting. [Exit.† ^note

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