Provost.
Claud.
Now, sister, what's the comfort?
Isab.
Why, as all comforts are; most good in Deed:
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heav'n,
Intends you for his swift ambassador;
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger.
Therefore your best appointment 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.
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?
-- 351 --
Isab.
Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint,
Tho' 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.
Claud.
Let me know the point.
Isab.
Oh, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Lest thou a fev'rous 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 corp'ral sufferance finds a pang as great,
As when a Giant dies.
Claud.
Why give you me this shame?
Think you, I can a resolution fetch
From flow'ry 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 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 delib'rate word
Nips youth i'th' head; and follies doth emmew,
As faulcon 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.
Oh, '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 might'st be freed?
Claud.
Oh, heavens! it cannot be.
Isab.
Yes, he would give't thee; from this rank offence
-- 352 --
So to offend him still. This night's the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou dy'st to morrow.
Claud.
Thou shalt not do't.
Isab.
Oh, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.
Claud.
Thanks, dearest 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 th' nose,
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 fin'd? oh Isabel!
Isab.
What says my brother?
Claud.
Death's a fearful thing.
Isab.
And shamed life a hateful.
Claud.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where:
To lye in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribb'd ice,
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendant world; or to be worse than worst
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts
Imagine howling;—'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,(16) note
-- 353 --
That age, ach, penury, imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
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.
Oh you beast!
Oh faithless coward! oh dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice?
Is't not a kind of incest, to take life
From thine own sister's shame? what should I think?
Heav'n grant, my mother plaid my father fair:
For such a warped slip of wilderness
Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance,
Die, perish! might my only 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.
Oh, fie, fie, fie!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade;
Mercy to thee would prove it self a bawd;
'Tis best, that thou dy'st quickly.
Claud.
Oh hear me, Isabella.
To them, Enter Duke and Provost.
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
-- 354 --
stolen out of other affairs: but I will attend you a
while.
Duke.
Son, I have over-heard what hath past between
you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to
corrupt her; only he hath made an assay of her virtue,
to practise 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 your self to death. Do
not satisfie your resolution with hopes that are fallible;
to morrow you must die; go to your knees, and make
ready.
Claud.
Let me ask my sister pardon; I am so out of
love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.
[Ex. Claud.
Duke.
Hold you there; farewel. 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.
[Exit Prov.
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 complection, 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 will 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, oh, how much is the good
Duke deceiv'd 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 tryal of you only. Therefore fasten your ear
-- 355 --
on my advisings: to the love I have in doing good,
a remedy presents it self. I do make my self believe,
that you may most uprightly 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 farther; 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 marry'd; was
affianc'd to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed:
between which time of the contract, and limit of the
solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrackt at sea,
having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his sister.
But mark, how heavily this befel to the poor gentlewoman;
there she lost a noble and renowned brother,
in his love toward her ever most kind and natural;
with him the portion and sinew of her fortune,
her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband,
this well-seeming Angelo.
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; swallow'd his vows whole,
pretending, in her, discoveries of dishonour: in few,
bestow'd her on her own lamentation, which she yet
wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is
washed with them, but relents not.
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.
-- 356 --
Isab.
Shew me how, good father.
Duke.
This fore-nam'd 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:
first, that your stay with him may not be
long; that the time may have all shadow and silence
in it; and the place answer to convenience. This being
granted, in course now follows all: we shall advise
this wronged maid to stead up your appointment,
go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge it
self hereafter, it may compel him to her recompence;
and here by this is your brother saved, your Honour
untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt
Deputy scaled. The maid will I frame, and make
fit for his attempt: if you think well to carry this
as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the
deceit from reproof. What think you of it?
Isab.
The image of it gives me content already,
and, I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.
Duke.
It lyes much in your holding up; haste you
speedily to Angelo; if for this night he intreat you to
his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently
to St. Luke's; there at the moated Grange resides
this dejected Mariana; at that place call upon me, and
dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.
Isab.
I thank you for this comfort: fare you well,
good father.
[Exeunt severally.
Scene 2
SCENE changes to the Street.
Re-enter Duke as a Friar; Elbow, Clown, and Officers.
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.
-- 357 --
Duke.
Oh, heav'ns! what stuff is here?
Clown.
'Twas never merry world since of two usuries
the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd
by order of law. A furr'd gown to keep him warm,
and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too, to signifie,
that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the
facing.
Elb.
Come your way, Sir: bless you, good father
Friar.
Duke.
And you, good brother father; what offence
hath this man made you, Sir?
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, which we have
sent to the Deputy.
Duke.
Fie, Sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd!
The evil that thou causest to be done,
That is thy means to live. Dost thou but think,
What 'tis to cram a maw, or cloath a back
From such a filthy vice: say to thy self,
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array my self, and live.(17) note
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—
-- 358 --
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, as faults from seeming free!
Enter Lucio.
Elb.
His neck will come to your waste, a cord, Sir.
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 woman to be
had now, for putting the hand in 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'th' last rain? ha? what say'st thou, trot? is the world
as it was, man? which is the way? is it sad and few
words? or how? the trick of it?
Duke.
Still thus and thus; still worse?
Lucio.
How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? procures
she still? ha?
Clown.
Troth, Sir, she hath eaten up all her beef,
and she is her self in the tub.
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, it must be so. 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,
-- 359 --
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 encrease 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.
Clown.
You will not bail me then, Sir?
Lucio.
Then, Pompey, 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 leachery 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?
-- 360 --
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: (18) noteand he is a
motion ungenerative, that's infallible.
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; 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.
-- 361 --
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 dear 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 tun-dish: I
would, the Duke, we talk of, were return'd again; this
ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with Continency.
Sparrows must not build in his house-eves,
because they are leacherous. The Duke yet would have
dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring
them to light; would he were return'd! Marry, this
Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewel, good
-- 362 --
Friar; I pry'thee, pray for me: (19) notethe Duke, I say
to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's now
past it; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with
a beggar, tho' she smelt of brown bread and garlick;
say, that I said so, farewel.
[Exit.
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?
But who comes here?
Enter Escalus, Provost, and Bawd.
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
in the same kind? this would make mercy swear, and
play the tyrant.
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 promis'd her marriage;
his child is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and
Jacob: I have kept it my self; and see, how he goes about
to abuse me.
Escal.
That fellow is a fellow of much licence; let
him be call'd before us. Away with her to prison:
go to; no more words. [Exeunt with the Bawd.] Provost,
my brother Angelo will not be alter'd; Claudio
must die to morrow: let him be furnish'd with Divines,
and have all charitable preparation. If my
brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with
him.
-- 363 --
Pro.
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, late come from the See,
In special business from his Holiness.
Escal.
What news abroad i'th' 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 accurst. 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 heav'ns your Function, and
the prisoner the very debt of your Calling. I have labour'd
for the poor gentleman, to the extremest shore
-- 364 --
of my modesty; 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.
[Exit.
Duke.
Peace be with you!
He who the sword of heav'n will bear,
Should be as holy as severe:
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go;
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?
How may that likeness, made in crimes,(20) note
Making practice on the times,
Draw with idle spiders strings
Most pond'rous and substantial things!
Craft against vice I must apply.
With Angelo to night shall lye
-- 365 --
His old betrothed, but despis'd;
So disguise shall by th' disguis'd
Pay with falshood false exacting;
And perform an old Contracting.
[Exit.
Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
