SCENE I.
The Prison.
Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost.
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 death4 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 9Q01765 note
: a breath thou art,
-- 72 --
Servile to all the skiey influences
That do this habitation6 note
, where thou keep'st,
Hourly afflict 9Q0177: merely, thou art death's fool7 note
;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet runnest toward him still: Thou art not noble;
For all the accommodations, that thou bear'st,
-- 73 --
Are nurs'd by baseness8 note
: Thou art by no means valiant;
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm9 note
: Thy best of rest is sleep1 note
,
-- 74 --
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grosly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. 2 noteThou art not thyself;
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 effects3 note,
After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art poor;
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee: Friend hast thou none;
For thy own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo4 note, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner: Thou hast nor youth, nor age5 note
;
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
-- 75 --
Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth6 note
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
-- 76 --
Of palsied eld7 note
; and when thou art old, and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty8 note
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lye hid more thousand deaths9 note
: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
Claud.
I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find, I seek to die;
And, seeking death, find life: Let it come on.
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.
-- 77 --
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 them to speak where I may be conceal'd,
Yet hear them1 note
.
[Exeunt Duke and Provost.
Claud.
Now, sister, what's the comfort?
Isab.
Why, as all comforts are; most good in deed2 note
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift embassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger3 note
:
-- 78 --
Therefore your best appointment4 note
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,
Though all the world's vastidity 9Q0179 you had,
To a determin'd scope5 note
.
Cland.
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,
-- 79 --
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 beetle6 note, that we tread upon,
In corporal 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 flowery tenderness? If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride7 note
,
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 deliberate word
Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew8 note,
9 note
As faulcon doth the fowl,—is yet a devil;
-- 80 --
His filth within being cast1 note
, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.
Claud.
2 note
The princely Angelo?
-- 81 --
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 it thee, 3 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 shall not do't.
Isab.
Oh, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin4 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 it5 note
, sure it is no sin;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least. 9Q0180
Isab.
Which is the least?
-- 82 --
Claud.
If it were damnable6 note
, he, being so wise,
Why would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fin'd7 note
? Oh 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;
To lye in cold obstruction, and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit8 note
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
-- 83 --
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed 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 intertain thoughts9 note
Imagine howling!—'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ach, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a paradise
1 note
To what we fear of death.
-- 84 --
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 incest2 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 wilderness3 note
note Old Fortunatus, 1600:
“But I in wilderness totter'd out my youth.”
The word, in this sense, is now obsolete, though employed by
Milton:
“The paths, and bowers, doubt not, but our joint hands
“Will keep from wilderness with ease.”
Steevens.
Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance4 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.
Oh, fie, fie, fie!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade5 note:
-- 85 --
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:
'Tis best that thou dy'st quickly.
Claud.
Oh 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 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 yourself to death: Do not satisfy your
resolution with hopes that are fallible6 note
: to-morrow
-- 86 --
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. Re-enter Provost.
Duke.
Hold you there7 note: Farewell. 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 time8 note.
[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, should 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 oh, how much is the good duke
deceived in Angelo! if ever he returns, 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.—Therefore fasten your
ear on my advisings; to the love I have in doing
good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself
-- 87 --
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 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 wreck'd 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 husband9 note,
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 9Q0181, which yet she
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?
-- 88 --
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-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 advantage1 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 deputy scaled2 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.
-- 89 --
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
grange3 note
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 II.
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
bastard4 note
.
Duke.
Oh, heavens? what stuff is here?
Clown.
'Twas never merry world, since, of two
usuries5 note
, the merriest was put down, and the worser
-- 90 --
allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him
warm; and furr'd with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify,
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 6 note
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: Do 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 live7 note
.
-- 91 --
Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend.
Clown.
Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but
yet, sir, I would prove—
Duke.
Nay, if the devil hath 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 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 free8 note
! 9Q0182
-- 92 --
Enter Lucio.
Elb.
His neck will come to your waist9 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
heels of Cæsar? art thou led in triumph? What, is
there none of Pigmalion's images, newly made woman1 note
9Q0183,
to be had now, for putting the hand in the
-- 93 --
pocket and extracting it clutch'd? what reply? ha?
2 note
what say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method?
Is't not drown'd i' the last rain? ha? 3 note
what say'st
thou, trot? is the world as it was, man? Which is
the way4 note? is it sad, and few words? or how? the
trick of it?
-- 94 --
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 herself in the tub5 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: farewell:
go; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or
how6 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. 9Q0184
Clown.
I hope, sir, your good worship will be my
bail.
Lucio.
No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not
the wear7 note. I will pray, Pompey, to encrease your
-- 95 --
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. 9Q0185—What news
abroad, friar? what news?
Elb.
Come your ways, sir, come.
Lucio.
Go,—to kennel, Pompey,—go8 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 trangression 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 vice9 note
, and severity must
cure it.
-- 96 --
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 infallible1 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 women2 note; he was not inclin'd that way.
-- 97 --
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 3 note
clackdish:
the duke had crotchets in him: He would be
drunk too; that let me inform you.
Duke.
You do him wrong, surely.
-- 98 --
Lucio.
Sir, I was an inward of his4 note
: A shy fellow
was the duke: and, I believe, I know the cause of
his withdrawing.
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 subject5 note
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 the6 note 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
-- 99 --
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.
Oh, 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 agent7 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 fridays8 note
. He's now past it; yet9 note
, and I say
to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she
-- 100 --
smelt brown bread and garlick: say, that I said so.
Farewell.
[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 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
in the same kind? this would make mercy swear1 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 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 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
-- 101 --
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.
Esca.
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, lately come from the see2 note
,
In special business from his holiness.
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: 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
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 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
-- 102 --
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 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 forc'd me to tell
him, he is indeed—justice3 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 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 heaven will bear,
Should be as holy as severe;
Pattern in himself to know4 note
,
Grace to stand, and virtue go;
-- 103 --
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 grow5 note! 9Q0186
Oh, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side! 9Q0187
How may that likeness, made in crimes6 note
,
Making practice on the times,
-- 104 --
Draw with idle spiders' strings
Most pond'rous and substantial things! 9Q0188
Craft against vice I must apply:
With Angelo to-night shall lye
His old betrothed, but despis'd;
So disguise shall, by the disguis'd7 note
,
Pay with falshood false exacting,
And perform an old contracting.
[Exit.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
