Escal.

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

Elb.

Seven years and a half, Sir.

Escal.

I thought, by your readiness 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 chuse me for them. I do it for some piece of mony, 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 a 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 VI. Changes to Angelo's House. 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; I'll know
His pleasure; 't may be, he'll 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 not I 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 pardon.—
What shall be done, Sir, with the groaning Juliet?
She's very near her hour.

Ang.
Dispose of her
To some more fitting place, and that with speed.

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 sister-hood,
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. SCENE VII. Enter Lucio and Isabella.

Prov.
'Save your honour.

Ang.
Stay yet a while.* ^note—[To Isab.] Y'are welcome; what's your will?

Isab.
I am a woful 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^{5 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.

Prov.
Heav'n 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 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;—heav'n keep your Honour!

Lucio. [To Isab.]
Give 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 heav'n, 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,
As mine is to him?

Ang.
He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late.

Lucio.
You are too cold. [To Isabel.

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,
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, be gone.

Isab.
I would to heav'n 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. [aside.]
Ay, touch him; there's the vein.

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

Isab.
Alas! alas!

Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once;^{6 note}
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? oh, think on that:
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,^{7 note}

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 dies to-morrow.

Isab.
To-morrow, Oh! that's sudden. Spare him, spare him.
He's not prepar'd for death. Even for our kitchins
We kill the fowl, of season; shall we serve heav'n
With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves? good, good my lord, bethink you:
Who is it, that hath dy'd for this offence?
There's many have committed it.

Lucio.
Ay, well said. [Aside.

Ang.
The law hath not been dead, tho' it hath slept:
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If the first man, that did th' edict infringe,
Had answer'd for his deed. Now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,^{8 note}

Looks in a glass that shews what future evils,
Or new, or by remissness new-conceiv'd,

And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,
Are now to have no successive degrees;
But ere they live to end.^{9 note}

Isab.
Yet shew some pity.^{1 note}

Ang.
I shew it most of all, when I shew justice;
For then I pity those, I do not know;
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gaul;
And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be satisfy'd;
Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Isab.
So you must be the first, that gives this sentence;
And he, that suffers. Oh, 'tis excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous,
To use it like a giant.

Lucio.
That's well said. [Aside.

Isab.
Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet;
For every pelting, petty, officer
Would use his heav'n for thunder;
Nothing but thunder.—Merciful heav'n!
Thou rather with thy sharp, and sulph'rous, bolt
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the soft myrtle: O, 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 fantastick tricks before high heav'n,
As make the angels weep;^{2 note} who, with our spleens,

Would all themselves laugh mortal.^{3 note}

Lucio. [Aside.]
Oh, to him, to him, Wench; he will relent;
He's coming: I perceive't.

Prov. [To Lucio.]
Pray heav'n, she win him!

Isab.
We cannot weigh our brother with yourself:^{4 note}

Lucio. [Aside.]
Thou'rt right, girl; more o'that.

Isab.
That in the captain's but a cholerick word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

Lucio. [Aside.]
Art advis'd o'that? more on't.

Ang.
Why do you put these sayings upon me?

Isab.
Because authority, tho' it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
That skins the vice o' th' 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.

Ang. [Aside.]
She speaks, and 'tis such sense,
That my sense breeds with it.^{5 note}[To Isab.] Fare 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, turn back.

Ang.
How? bribe me?

Isab.
Ay, with such gifts, that heav'n shall share with you.

Lucio.
You had marr'd all else. [Aside.

Isab.
Not with fond shekels of the tested gold,^{6 note}

Ang.
Well; come to morrow.

Lucio.
Go too; 'tis well; [Aside to Isabel.] away.

Isab.
Heav'n keep your Honour safe!

Ang.
Amen:
For I am that way going to temptation, [Aside.
Where prayers cross.^{8 note}

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

Ang.
At any time 'fore noon.

Isab.
Save your Honour! [Exe. Lucio and Isabel. SCENE VIII.

Ang.
From thee; even from thy virtue.
What's this? what's this? is this her fault, or mine?
The temper, or the tempted, who sins most?
Not she.—Nor doth she tempt.—But it is I,^{9 note}

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? oh, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou? or what art thou, Angelo?

Dost thou desire her foully, for those things
That make her good? Oh, 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?
Oh, cunning enemy, that, to catch a Saint,
With Saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation, that dost goad us on
To sin in loving virtue. Ne'er could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite. Ever 'till this very Now,
When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how.^{1 note} [Exit. SCENE IX. Changes to 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 blest 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 flaws of her own youth,^{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 repent you not,
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
Which sorrow's always tow'rds ourselves, not heav'n;
Shewing, we'd not seek heaven, as we love it,
But as we stand in fear.

Juliet.
I do repent me, as it is an evil;

And take the shame with joy.

Duke.
There rest.^{3 note}
Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.
So, grace go with you! benedicite. [Exit.

Juliet.
Must die to morrow! oh, injurious love,^{4 note}
That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!

Prov.
'Tis pity of him. [Exit. SCENE X. Changes to the Palace. Enter Angelo.

Ang.
When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To sev'ral subjects: heav'n hath my empty words,
Whilst my intention,^{5 note} hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel. Heav'n's in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew its 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;^{6 note}

Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I with boot change for an idle plume
Which the air beats for vain. Oh place! oh form!
How often dost thou with thy * ^notecase, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls^{7 note}

To thy false seeming? Blood, thou art but blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn;^{8 note}

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

Ang.
Teach her the way. [Solus.] Oh heav'ns!
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making both That unable for itself,
And dispossessing all my 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 gen'ral subject to a well-wish'd King^{9 note}
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence. SCENE XI. 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.
Ev'n so?—Heav'n keep your Honour! [Going.

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? fie, these filthy vices! 'twere as good
To pardon him, that hath from nature stol'n
A man already made, as to remit
Their sawcy sweetness, that do coin heav'n's image
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy,^{1 note}
Falsely to take away a life true made;^{2 note}
As to put metal in restrained means,^{3 note}
To make a false one.

Isab.
'Tis set down so in heav'n, but not in earth.

Ang.
And 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,
I had rather give my body than my soul.

Ang.
I talk not of your soul; our compell'd sins
Stand more for number than for compt.

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,^{4 note}
Were equal poize of sin and charity.

Isab.
That I do beg his life, if it be sin,
Heav'n, let me bear it! you, granting my suit,
If that be sin, I'll make it my morn-pray'r
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answer.^{5 note}

Ang.
Nay, but hear me:
Your sense pursues not mine; either, you're ignorant;
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 en-shield beauty ten times louder,
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, nor any other,
But in the loss of question,)^{7 note}

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* ^note 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,
Th' impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I've been seek 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 dy'd at once;^{8 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.
Ignominy in ransom, and free pardon,
Are of two houses; lawful mercy, sure,
Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

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.
Oh pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
To have what we would 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,^{9 note}
* ^noteOwe, and succeed by weakness.

Ang.
Nay, women are frail too.

Isab.
Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke, as they make forms.^{1 note}

Women!—help heav'n! men their creation mar,
^{2 note}In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are soft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints.^{3 note}

Ang.
I think it well;
And from this testimony of your own sex,
Since, I suppose, we're 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're more, you're none;
If you be one, as you are well express'd
By all external warrants, shew 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.^{4 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,^{5 note}
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, seeming!—^{6 note}
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an out-stretch'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

Ang.
Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, th' austereness of my life,
^{7 note}

Or else he must not only die the death,^{8 note}
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To ling'ring sufferance. Answer me to-morrow;
Or by th' 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. [Exit.

Isab.
To whom should I complain? did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O most perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof;
Bidding the law make curtsy to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite,
To follow, as it draws. I'll to my brother.
Tho' he hath fall'n by prompture^{9 note} 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;
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.

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