SCENE II.
Claud.
Now, sister, what's the comfort?
Isab.
Why, as all comforts are; most good in Deed:4 note
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heav'n,
Intends you for his swift ambassador;
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger.5 note
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?
Isab.
Ay, just; perpetual durance; a restraint,
Tho' all the world's vastidity you had,
To a determin'd scope.6 note
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.
-- 318 --
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,7 note 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,8 note
As faulcon doth the fowl6Q0029; is yet a devil:
His filth within being cast,9 note
he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.
Claud.
1 note
The Princely Angelo?
Isab.
Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
-- 319 --
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 giv't thee * notefor this rank offence,
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?2 note sure, it is no sin;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.
Isab.
Which is the least?
Claud.
If it were damnable,3 note 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.
-- 320 --
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 spirit4 note
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* note
Imagine howling; 'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
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!
-- 321 --
Oh, faithless coward! oh, dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice?
Is't not a kind of incest,5 note 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;* note
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd;
'Tis best, that thou dy'st quickly.
Claud.
Oh hear me, Isabel.
SCENE III.
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
stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you a
while.
Duke.[To Claudio aside.]
Son, I have over-heard
what hath past between you and your Sister. Angelo
had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath
-- 322 --
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 yourself to death. Do not satisfy your
resolution with hopes that are fallible;6 note
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.
[Exit Claud.
Duke.
Hold you there;7 note 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 complexion, shall keep the body of it
ever fair. The assault, that Angelo hath made on you,
-- 323 --
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 on my advisings. To the love I have in doing
good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself 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 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 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 wreckt 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 her portion, the sinew of her fortune, her
-- 324 --
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 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.
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:8 note
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 itself
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
-- 325 --
Deputy scaled.9 note 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 lies 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 IV.
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.1 note
Duke.
Oh, heav'ns! what stuff is here?
Clown.
'Twas never merry world since of two usuries2 note
the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd
-- 326 --
by order of law, a furr'd gown to keep him
warm, and furr'd with ox 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 * notefather; 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 thyself,
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.3 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—
-- 327 --
Duke.
Nay, if the devil hath 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!4 note
-- 328 --
SCENE V.
Enter Lucio.
Elb.
His neck will come to your waist,5 note
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,6 note
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?7 note
ha? what say'st thou,
trot?6Q0030 is the world as it was, man? which is the way?* note
is it sad and few words? or how? the trick of it?
Duke.
Still thus and thus; still worse!
-- 329 --
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 herself in the tub.8 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, 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?9 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. 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 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?
-- 330 --
Elb.
Come your ways, Sir, come.
Lucio.
Go—to kennel, Pompey—go:
[Exeunt Elbow, Clown and Officers.
SCENE VI.
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,1 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 them?
Lucio.
Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him. Some,
that he was got between two stock-fishes. But it is
-- 331 --
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.2 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; 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 * noteclack-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 with-drawing.
Duke.
What pry'thee 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 subject3 note held the
Duke to be wise.
Duke.
Wise? why, no question, but he was.
-- 332 --
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 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-eaves
because they are lecherous. The duke yet
-- 333 --
would have dark deeds darkly answer'd; he would never
bring them to light; would he were return'd!
Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewel,
good Friar; I pry'thee, pray for me. The duke,
I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays.4 note
He's not past it yet.5 note—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?
SCENE VII.
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
in the same kind? this would make mercy swear,6 note
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 myself; and see, how he goes about
to abuse me.
-- 334 --
Escal.
This 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.
Prov.
So please you, this Friar has 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* note
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.
-- 335 --
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 resolved 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
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.
SCENE VIII.
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,7 note
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!
-- 336 --
Oh, what may man within him hide,
Tho' angel on the outward side!
How may that likeness, made in crimes,8 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
His old betrothed, but despis'd;
So disguise shall by th' disguis'd9 note
Pay with falshood false exacting.
And perform an old contracting.
[Exit.
-- 337 --
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
