Claud.
Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world?
Bear me to prison, where I am committed.

Prov.
I do it not in evil disposition,
But from Lord ^note Angelo by special charge.

Claud.
Thus can the demigod Authority
Make us pay down for our offence ^note by weight
The words ^note of heaven;—on whom it will, it will;
On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just ^note. Re-enter Lucio and two Gentlemen.

Lucio.
Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint?

Claud.
From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty:
As surfeit is the father of much fast,
So every scope ^note by the immoderate use
Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue,
Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,
A thirsty evil ^note; and when we drink we die.

Lucio.

If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors: and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality ^note of imprisonment. What's thy offence, Claudio?

Claud.
What but to speak of would offend again.

Lucio.

What, is't murder?

Claud.

No.

Lucio.

Lechery?

Claud.

Call it so.

Prov.

Away, sir! you must go.

Claud.
One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you.

Lucio.
A hundred, if they'll do you any good.
Is lechery so look'd after?

Claud.
Thus stands it with me:—upon a true contract
I got possession of Julietta's bed:
You know the lady; she is fast my wife,
Save that we do the denunciation ^note lack
Of outward order: this we came not to,
Only for propagation ^note of a dower
Remaining in the coffer of her friends;
From whom we thought it meet to hide our love
Till time had made them for us. But it chances
The stealth of our most ^note mutual entertainment
With character too gross is writ on ^note Juliet.

Lucio.
With child, perhaps?

Claud.
Unhappily, even so.
And the new Deputy now for the Duke,—
Whether it be the fault and ^note glimpse ^note of newness,
Or whether that the body public be
A horse whereon the governor doth ride,
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
Whether the tyranny be in his place,
Or in his eminence that fills it up,
I stagger in:—but this new governor
Awakes me all the enrolled penalties
Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall
So long, that nineteen ^note zodiacs have gone round,
And none of them been worn; and, for a name,

Now puts the drowsy and neglected act
Freshly on me: 'tis surely for a name.

Lucio.

I warrant it is ^note: and thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders, that a milkmaid, if she be ^note in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke, and appeal to him.

Claud.
I have done so, but he's not to be found.
I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service:
This day my sister should the cloister enter
And there receive her approbation:
Acquaint her with the danger of my state;
Implore her, in my voice ^note, that she make friends
To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him:
I have great hope in that; for in her youth ^note
There is a prone ^note and speechless dialect,
Such as move ^note men; beside ^note, she hath prosperous art
When she will play with reason and discourse,
And well she can persuade.

Lucio.

I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under ^note grievous imposition ^note, as for the enjoying of ^note thy life, who I would ^note be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her ^note.

Claud.
I thank you, good friend Lucio.

Lucio.
Within two hours.

Claud.
Come, officer, away! [Exeunt.

^note Scene III. [Footnote: A monastery. Enter Duke and Friar Thomas.

Duke.
No, holy father; throw away that thought;
Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
Can pierce a complete bosom ^note. Why I desire thee
To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
Of burning youth.

Fri. T.
May your grace speak of it?

Duke.
My holy sir, none better knows than you
How I have ever loved the life removed,
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies
Where youth, and cost, and witless ^note bravery keeps ^note.
I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo,
A man of stricture ^note and firm abstinence,
My absolute power and place here in Vienna,
And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;
For ^note so I have strew'd it in the common ear,
And so it is received. Now, pious sir,
You will demand of me why I do this?

Fri. T.
Gladly, my lord.

Duke.
We have strict statutes and most biting laws,
The needful bits and curbs to ^note headstrong weeds ^note,
Which for this ^note fourteen ^note years we have let slip ^note;
Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,
That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,
Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch,
Only to ^note stick it in their children's sight

For terror ^note, not to use, in time the rod
Becomes more mock'd ^note than fear'd; so our decrees ^note,
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
And liberty plucks justice by the nose;
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum.

Fri. T.
It rested in your Grace
To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased:
And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd
Than in Lord Angelo.

Duke.
I do ^note fear, too dreadful:
Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope,
'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them
For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done ^note,
When evil deeds have their permissive pass,
And not the ^note punishment. Therefore, indeed ^note, my father,
I have on Angelo imposed the office;
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home,
And yet my nature never in the fight
To do in slander ^{note note}. And ^note to behold his sway,
I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,
Visit both prince and people: therefore, I ^note prithee,
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me
How I may formally in person bear me ^note
Like a true friar. More reasons for this action
At our ^note more leisure shall I render you;
Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise;

Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses
That his blood flows, or that his appetite
Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see,
If power change purpose, what our seemers be. [Exeunt. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: A nunnery. Enter Isabella and Francisca.

Isab.
And have you nuns no farther privileges?

Fran.
Are not these large enough?

Isab.
Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more;
But rather wishing a more strict restraint
Upon the sisterhood, the votarists ^note of Saint Clare.

Lucio [within].
Ho! Peace be in this place!

Isab.
Who's that which calls?

Fran.
It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella,
Turn you the key, and know his business of him;
You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn.
When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men
But in the presence of the prioress:
Then, if you speak, you must not show your face;
Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.
He calls again; I pray you, answer him. [Exit.

Isab.
Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls? Enter Lucio.

Lucio.
Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses
Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me
As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
A novice of this place, and the fair sister
To her unhappy brother Claudio?

Isab.
Why, ‘her unhappy brother’? let me ask
The rather, for I now must make you know
I am that Isabella and his sister.

Lucio.
Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you:

Not to be weary with you, he's in prison.

Isab.
Woe me! for what?

Lucio.
For that which ^note, if myself might be his judge,
He should receive his punishment in thanks:
He hath got his friend with child.

Isab.
Sir, make me not your story ^note.

Lucio.
It is true ^note.
I would not ^note—though 'tis my familiar sin
With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest,
Tongue far from heart—play with all virgins so:
I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted;
By your renouncement, an immortal spirit;
And to be talk'd with in sincerity,
As with a saint.

Isab.
You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.

Lucio.
Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus:—
Your brother and his lover have ^note embraced:
As those that feed grow full,—as blossoming time,
That from the seedness ^note the bare fallow brings ^note
To teeming foison,—even so her plenteous womb
Expresseth his ^note full tilth and husbandry.

Isab.
Some one with child by him?—My cousin Juliet?

Lucio.
Is she your cousin?

Isab.
Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names
By vain, though apt, affection.

Lucio.
She it is.

Isab.
O, let him ^note marry her.

Lucio.
This is the point.
The duke is ^note very strangely gone from hence;
Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,
In hand, and ^note hope of action: but we do ^note learn

By those that know the very nerves of state,
His givings-out ^note were of an infinite distance
From his true-meant design. Upon his place,
And with full line of his authority,
Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood
Is very snow-broth; one who never feels
The wanton stings and motions of the sense,
But doth rebate and blunt his ^note natural edge
With profits of the mind, study and fast.
He—to give fear to use and liberty,
Which have for long ^note run by the hideous law,
As mice by lions—hath pick'd out an act,
Under whose heavy sense your brother's life
Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it;
And follows close the rigour of the statute,
To make him an example. All hope is ^note gone,
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of ^note business
'Twixt ^note you and your poor brother.

Isab.
Doth he so seek ^note his life?

Lucio.
Has ^note censured him
Already; and, as ^note I hear, the provost hath
A warrant for his ^note execution.

Isab.
Alas! what poor ability's in me ^note
To do him good?

Lucio.
Assay the power you have.

Isab.
My power? Alas, I doubt,—

Lucio.
Our doubts are traitors,
And make ^note us lose the good we oft might win
By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo,
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue,

Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,
All their petitions are as freely ^note theirs
As they themselves would owe them.

Isab.
I'll see what I can do.

Lucio.
But speedily.

Isab.
I will about it straight;
No longer staying but to give the Mother
Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you:
Commend me to my brother: soon at night
I'll send him certain word of my success.

Lucio.
I take my leave of you.

Isab.
Good sir, adieu. [Exeunt. ACT II. Scene I. A hall in Angelo's house. ^noteEnter Angelo, Escalus, and a Justice, Provost, Officers, and other Attendants, behind.

Ang.
We must not make a scarecrow of the law,
Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it
Their perch, and not their terror.

Escal.
Ay, but yet
Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,
Than fall ^note, and bruise to death. Alas, this gentleman,
Whom I would save, had a most noble father!
Let but your honour know,
Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,
That, in the ^note working of your own affections,
Had time cohered with place or place with wishing,
Or that the resolute acting of your ^note blood
Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose,
Whether you had not sometime in your life

Err'd in this point which now you censure him ^note,
And pull'd the law upon you.

Ang.
'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,
Another thing to fall. I not deny,
The jury, passing on the ^note prisoner's life,
May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two
Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice,
That justice seizes ^note: what know ^note the laws
That theives do pass on thieves? 'Tis very ^note pregnant,
The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't,
Because we see it; but what we do not see
We tread upon, and never think of it.
You may not so extenuate his offence
For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,
When I, that censure him, do so offend,
Let mine own judgement pattern out my death, ^note
And nothing come in partial. Sir ^note, he must die.

Escal.
Be it as your wisdom will.

Ang.
Where is the provost?

Prov.
Here, if it like your honour.

Ang.
See that Claudio
Be executed by nine to-morrow morning:
Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared;
For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. [Exit Provost ^note.

Escal. [Aside ^note]
Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! ^note
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:
Some run from brakes of ice, and ^note answer none;
And some condemned for a fault alone.

^noteEnter Elbow, and Officers with Froth and Pompey.

Elb.

Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a commonweal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them away.

Ang.

How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter?

Elb.

If it please your honour, I am the poor Duke's constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors.

Ang.

Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are they not malefactors?

Elb.

If it please your honour, I know not well what they are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have.

Escal.

This comes off well; here's a wise officer.

Ang.

Go to: what quality are they ^note of? Elbow is your name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow?

Pom.

He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow.

Ang.

What are you, sir?

Elb.

He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too.

Escal.

How know you that?

Elb.

My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,—

Escal.

How? thy wife?

Elb.

Ay, sir;—whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,—

Escal.

Dost thou detest her therefore?

Elb.

I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.

Escal.

How dost thou know that, constable?

Elb.

Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness ^note there.

Escal.

By the ^note woman's means?

Elb.

Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means: but as she spit in his face, so she defied him.

Pom.

Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.

Elb.

Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man; prove it.

Escal.

Do you hear how he misplaces?

Pom.

Sir, she came in great with child; and longing, saving your honour's reverence, for stewed prunes; sir ^note, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant ^note time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes,—

Escal.

Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir.

Pom.

No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for prunes; and having but two ^note in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you three-pence again.

Froth.

No, indeed.

Pom.

Very well;—you being then, if you be remembered, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,—

Froth.

Ay, so I did indeed.

Pom.

Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be remembered, that such a one and such a one were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very ^note good diet, as I told you,—

Froth.

All this is true.

Pom.

Why, very well, then,—

Escal.

Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to complain of? Come me ^note to what was done to her.

Pom.

Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.

Escal.

No, sir, nor ^note I mean it not.

Pom.

Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave. And, I beseech you, look into ^note Master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmas:—was't not at Hallowmas, Master Froth?—

Froth.

All-hallond ^note eve.

Pom.

Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir ^note; 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you have a delight to sit, have you not?

Froth.

I have so; because it is an open room, and good for winter ^note.

Pom.
Why, very well, then; I hope here be truths.

Ang.
This will last out a night in Russia,
When nights are longest there: I'll take my leave,
And leave you to the hearing of the cause;
Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all. ^note

Escal.

I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship. [Exit Angelo. Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow's wife, once more?

Pom.

Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once.

Elb.

I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.

Pom.

I beseech your honour, ask me.

Escal.

Well, sir; what did this gentleman to her?

Pom.

I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face. Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face?

Escal.

Ay, sir, very well.

Pom.

Nay, I beseech you, mark it well.

Escal.

Well, I do so.

Pom.

Doth your honour see any harm in his face?

Escal.

Why, no.

Pom.

I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the constable's wife any harm? I would know that of your honour.

Escal.

He's in the right. Constable, what say you to it?

Elb.

First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman.

Pom.

By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all.

Elb.

Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! the time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.

Pom.

Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.

Escal.

Which is the wiser here? Justice or Iniquity? Is this true?

Elb.

O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married to her! If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee.

Escal.

If he took you a box o' th' ear, you might have your action of slander too.

Elb.

Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is't your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff?

Escal.

Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou knowest what they are.

Elb.

Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee: thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue.

Escal.

Where were you born, friend?

Froth.

Here in Vienna, sir.

Escal.

Are you of fourscore pounds a year?

Froth.

Yes, an't please you, sir.

Escal.

So, what trade are you ^note of, sir?

Pom.

A tapster; a poor widow's tapster.

Escal.

Your mistress' name?

Pom.

Mistress Overdone.

Escal.

Hath she had any more than one husband?

Pom.

Nine, sir; Overdone by the last.

Escal.

Nine! Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters: they will draw you, Master Froth, and you will hang ^note them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you.

Froth.

I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am drawn in.

Escal.

Well, no more of it, Master Froth: farewell. [Exit Froth.] Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What's your name, Master tapster?

Pom.

Pompey.

Escal.

What else?

Pom.

Bum, sir.

Escal.

Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in ^note being a tapster, are you not? come, tell me true: it shall be the better for you.

Pom.

Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live.

Escal.

How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?

Pom.

If the law would allow it, sir.

Escal.

But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor ^note it shall not be allowed in Vienna.

Pom.

Does your worship mean to geld and splay ^note all the youth of the city?

Escal.

No, Pompey.

Pom.

Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't, then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves ^note, you need not to fear the bawds.

Escal.

There are ^note pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: it is but heading and hanging.

Pom.

If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year ^note together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna ten year ^note, I'll rent the fairest house in it after three-pence a bay ^note: if you live to see this come to pass, say Pompey told you so.

Escal.

Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you: I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewed Cæsar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey ^note, I shall have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

Pom.

I thank your worship for your good counsel: [Aside ^note] but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine.

Escal.

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

Elb.

Seven year and a half, sir.

Escal.

I thought, by your ^note 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 choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, 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 o'clock, think you?

Just.
Eleven, sir.

Escal.
I pray you home ^note 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 is ^note no remedy.
Come, sir. [Exeunt. ^note Scene II. [Footnote: Another room in the same. Enter Provost and a Servant.

Serv.
He's hearing of a cause; he will ^note come straight:
I'll tell him of you.

Prov.
Pray you, do. [Exit Servant.] I'll know
His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas,
He hath but as offended ^note in a dream!
All sects ^note, all ages smack of this ^note vice; and he
To die for 't! 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 ^note ask again?

Prov.
Lest I might be too rash:
Under your good correction, I have seen,
When, after execution, Judgement hath
Repented o'er his doom.

Ang.
Go to ^note; let that be mine:
Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you shall well be spared.

Prov.
I crave your honour's ^note pardon.
What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?
She's very near her hour.

Ang.
Dispose of her
To some more fitter ^note place, and that with speed. Re-enter Servant.

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 sisterhood,
If not already.

Ang.
Well ^note, let her be admitted. [Exit Servant.
See you the fornicatress be removed:
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;
There shall be order for't ^note. Enter Isabella and Lucio.

Prov.
God save ^note your honour!

Ang.
Stay a little ^note while. [To Isab.] You're welcome: what's your will?

Isab.
I am a woeful suitor to your honour,
Please ^note but your honour hear me.

Ang.
Well ^note; what's your suit?

Isab.
There is a vice that most I do abhor,
And most ^note 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 ^note I am
At war 'twixt will and will not.

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. [Aside]
Heaven 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 fine ^note the faults ^note whose fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.

Isab.
O just but severe law!
I had a brother, then.—Heaven keep your honour!

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.]
Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat 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 ^note 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 heaven 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 ^note do't, and do the world no wrong,
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse
As mine is to him. ^note

Ang.
He's sentenced; 'tis too late.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.]
You are ^note too cold.

Isab.
Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,
May call it back ^note again. Well, ^note believe ^note this,

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs ^note,
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 heaven 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 to Isab.]
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 ^note were forfeit once;
And He that might the vantage best have took
Found out the remedy. How would you be,
If He, which is the top ^note of judgement, should
But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

Ang.
Be you content, fair maid;
It is the law, not I condemn ^note your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,
It should be thus with him: he must die ^note to-morrow. ^note

Isab.
To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him!
He's not prepared for death. Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve ^note heaven
With less respect than we do minister
To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you;

Who is it that hath died for this offence?
There's many have committed it.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.]
Ay, well said.

Ang.
The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:
Those many had not dared to do that evil,
If the first ^note that ^note did the edict ^note infringe
Had answer'd for his deed: now 'tis awake,
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet,
Looks in a glass, that shows what ^note future evils,
Either now ^note, or by remissness new-conceived,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But, ere ^note they live, to end.

Isab.
Yet show some pity.

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

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

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.]
That's well said.

Isab.
Could great men thunder
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er ^note be quiet,
For every pelting, petty officer
Would ^note use his heaven for thunder.
Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven ^note,

Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Split'st ^note the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle: but ^note man, proud ^note man,
Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy ^note essence, like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.]
O, to him, to him, wench! he will relent;
He's coming; I perceive't.

Prov. [Aside]
Pray heaven she win him!

Isab.
We ^note cannot ^note weigh our brother with ourself ^note:
Great men may jest with saints ^note; 'tis wit in them,
But in the less foul profanation.

Lucio.
Thou'rt i' the right ^note, girl; more o' that.

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

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.]
Art avised ^note o' that? more on't ^note.

Ang.
Why do you put these sayings upon me?

Isab.
Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
That skins the vice o' the 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 ^note tongue
Against my brother's life.

Ang. [Aside]
She speaks, and 'tis
Such sense, that my sense breeds ^note with it. 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 heaven shall share with you.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.]
You had marr'd all else.

Isab.
Not with fond shekels ^note of the tested gold,
Or stones whose rates are ^note either rich or poor
As fancy values them; but with true prayers
That shall be up at heaven and enter there
Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls,
From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate
To nothing temporal.

Ang.
Well; come to me to-morrow.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.]
Go to; 'tis well; away!

Isab.
Heaven keep your honour safe!

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

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

Ang.
At any time 'fore noon.

Isab.
'Save ^note your honour! [Exeunt Isabella, Lucio, and Provost. ^note

Ang.
From thee,—even from thy virtue!
What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine?
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
Ha! ^note
Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I
That, lying by ^note 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 ^note there? O, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully for those things
That make her good? O, 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?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtue: never ^note could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite. Ever till now ^note,
When men were fond, I smiled, and wonder'd how. [Exit. ^note Scene III. [Footnote: A room in a prison. Enter, severally, Duke disguised as 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 ^note minister
To them accordingly.

Prov.
I would do more than that, if more were needful.

Enter Juliet ^note.
Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine,
Who, falling in the flaws ^note of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: she is with child;
And he that got it, sentenced; a young man
More fit to do another such offence
Than die for this.

Duke.
When must he die?

Prov.
As I do think, to-morrow.
I have provided for you: stay awhile, [To Juliet.
And you shall be conducted.

Duke.
Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?

Jul.
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.

Jul.
I'll gladly learn.

Duke.
Love you the man that wrong'd you?

Jul.
Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.

Duke.
So, then, it seems your most offenceful ^note act
Was mutually committed?

Jul.
Mutually.

Duke.
Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.

Jul.
I do confess it, and repent it, father.

Duke.
'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent ^note,
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,
Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven,
Showing we would not spare ^note heaven as we love it,
But as we stand in fear,—

Jul.
I do repent me, as it is an evil,
And take the shame with joy.

Duke.
There rest ^note.
Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.
Grace ^note go with you, Benedicite! [Exit.

Jul.
Must die to-morrow! O injurious love ^note,
That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!

Prov.
'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: A room in Angelo's house. Enter Angelo.

Ang.
When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty ^note words;
Whilst my invention ^note, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven ^note in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his ^note 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 ^note and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein—let no man hear me—I take ^note pride,
Could I with boot change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain. O place, ^note O form,
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood ^note:

Let's write good angel on the devil's horn;
'Tis not ^note the devil's crest. Enter a Servant.
How now! who's there?

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

Ang.
Teach her the way. O heavens!
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,
Making both it ^note unable for itself,
And dispossessing all ^note 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 general, subject ^note to a well-wish'd king,
Quit their own part ^note, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence. Enter Isabella.
How now, fair maid? ^note

Isab.
I am come to know your pleasure.

Ang.
That you might know it, would much better please me
Than to demand ^note what 'tis. Your brother ^note cannot live.

Isab.
Even so.—Heaven keep your honour ^note!

Ang.
Yet may he live awhile; 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! It were as good
To pardon him that hath from nature stolen
A man already made, as to remit
Their saucy sweetness ^note that do coin heaven's image
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy ^note
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put metal ^note in restrained means ^note
To make a false one.

Isab.
'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth ^note.

Ang.
Say ^note you so? then I shall pose you quickly.
Which had you rather,—that the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or ^note, 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 accompt ^note.

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.
Pleased you to do't at peril of your soul,

Were equal poise of sin and charity. ^note

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

Ang.
Nay, but hear me.
Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Or seem so, craftily ^note; and that's not good.

Isab.
Let me ^note 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 enshield ^note beauty ten times louder
Than beauty could, display'd. But mark me ^note;
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.

Isab.
True.

Ang.
Admit no other way to save his life,—
As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
But in the loss ^note of question,—that you, his sister,
Finding yourself desired of such a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-building ^note 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 to let ^note him suffer;
What would you do?

Isab.
As much for my poor brother as myself:
That is, were I under the terms of death,
The impression of keen whips I'ld wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing have ^note been sick ^note for, ere I'ld yield ^note
My body up to shame.

Ang.
Then must your brother die.

Isab.
And 'twere the cheaper way:
Better it were a brother died at ^note once,
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.
Ignomy in ^note ransom and free pardon
Are of two houses: lawful mercy
Is nothing kin ^note to foul redemption.

Ang.
You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;
And rather proved the sliding of your brother
A merriment than a vice.

Isab.
O, pardon me, my lord; it oft ^note falls out,
To have what we would ^note 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 ^note, but only he
Owe and succeed thy weakness ^note.

Ang.
Nay, women are frail too.

Isab.
Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke as they make ^note forms.
Women!—Help Heaven! men their ^note creation mar
In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are soft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints.

Ang.
I think it well:
And from this testimony of your own sex,—
Since, I suppose, we are 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 be ^note more, you're none;
If you be one,—as you are well express'd
By all external warrants,—show it now,
By putting on the destined livery.

Isab.
I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me entreat you speak the former ^note language.

Ang.
Plainly conceive, I love you.

Isab.
My brother did love Juliet,
And you tell me that he shall die for it ^note.

Ang.
He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.

Isab.
I know your virtue hath a license in't,
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 believed,
And most pernicious purpose!—Seeming, seeming!—
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother, ^note
Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud
What man thou art.

Ang.
Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,

Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun;
And now I give my sensual race the rein:
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what they sue for; redeem ^note thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will;
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow,
Or, by the 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 ^note I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous ^note mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof;
Bidding the law make court'sy ^note to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fall'n by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind ^note of honour,
That, had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'ld yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.
Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: ^note
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.

ACT III. Scene I. A room in the prison. Enter Duke disguised as before, Claudio, and Provost.

Duke.
So, then, you hope of ^note pardon from Lord Angelo?

Claud.
The miserable have no other medicine
But only hope:
I've ^note hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.

Duke.
Be absolute for death; either ^note 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 ^note: a breath thou art ^note,
Servile to all the skyey influences,
That dost ^note this habitation, where thou keep'st,
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble;
For all the accomodations that thou bear'st
Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means valiant;
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
For thou exist'st ^note on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get,
And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects ^note,
After the moon. If ^note thou art rich, thou'rt poor;
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,

Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads ^note thee. Friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire ^note,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo ^note, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age,
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed ^note youth
Becomes as aged ^note, and doth beg the alms
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty ^note,
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet ^note in this
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more ^note thousand deaths: 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.

Isab. [within]
What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company!

Prov.
Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.

Duke.
Dear sir ^note, ere long I'll visit you again.

Claud.
Most holy sir, I thank you. Enter Isabella.

Isab.
My business is a word or two with Claudio.

Prov.
And very welcome. Look ^note, signior, here's your sister.

Duke.

Provost, a word with you.

Prov.

As many as you please.

Duke.

Bring me to hear them speak ^note, where I may be concealed ^note.

Claud.

Now, sister ^note, what's the comfort?

Isab.
Why,
As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed ^note.
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger ^note:
Therefore your best appointment make with speed;
To-morrow you set on ^note.

Claud.
Is there no remedy?

Isab.
None, but such remedy as, to save a head,
To ^note 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 ^note all the world's vastidity you had,
To a determined 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.
O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect

Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die?
The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle, 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 ^note
From flowery tenderness? ^note 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 ^note. This outward-sainted deputy,
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i' the head ^note, and follies doth emmew
As falcon ^note doth the fowl, is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond ^note as deep as hell.

Claud.
The prenzie ^note Angelo!

Isab.
O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'st ^note body to invest and cover
In prenzie ^note guards ^note! Dost thou think, Claudio?—
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou mightst be freed.

Claud.
O heavens! it cannot be.

Isab.
Yes, he would give't ^note thee, from ^note 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 diest to-morrow.

Claud.
Thou shalt not do't.

Isab.
O, were it but my life,
I'ld throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.

Claud.
Thanks, dear ^note Isabel.

Isab.
Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.

Claud.
Yes. Has he ^note affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the law by the 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 ^note would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fined?—O 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 lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted ^note spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside ^note
In thrilling region ^note of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine ^note howling:—'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury ^note, and ^note 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.
O you beast!
O faithless coward! O 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?
Heaven shield ^note my mother play'd my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness
Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance!
Die, perish! Might but my ^note 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 ^note, hear me, Isabel.

Isab.
O, fie, fie, fie!
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade.
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: ^note
'Tis best that thou diest quickly.

Claud.
O, hear me, Isabella! ^noteRe-enter Duke ^note.

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 awhile.

Duke.

Son, I have overheard what hath passed 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 judgement 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 ^note 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.

Duke.

Hold you there: farewell. [Exit Claudio. ^note] Provost, a word with you!

Prov.

What's your will, father?

Duke.

That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company.

Prov.

In good time.

Duke.

The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good: the goodness that is cheap ^note in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness ^note; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you ^note, fortune hath conveyed 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: ^note I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good Duke deceived 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 trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings: to the love I have in doing good ^note a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously ^note 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 ^note. 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.

She ^note should this Angelo have married; was ^note affianced to her by ^note oath, and ^note the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell 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 dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few ^note, bestowed her on her ^note own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble ^note to her tears ^note, 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.

Show me how, good father.

Duke.

This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his unjust unkindness ^note, 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,—and now ^note 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 recompense: and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt Deputy scaled ^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 ^note 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 entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint 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.

^note Scene II. [Footnote: The street before the prison. Enter, on one side, Duke disguised as before; on the other, Elbow, and Officers with Pompey ^note.

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.

O heavens! what stuff is here?

Pom.

'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries ^note, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by ^noteorder of law a furred gown ^note to keep him warm; and furred with fox and lamb-skins ^note 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 father ^note. 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 picklock, 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 clothe a back
From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,
From their abominable and beastly touches
I drink, I eat, array myself ^note, and live.
Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend ^note.

Pom.

Indeed, it does ^note stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove—

Duke.
Nay, if the devil have 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 whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, 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,
From our faults ^note, as faults from seeming ^note, free! ^note

Elb.
His neck will come to your waist ^note,—a cord, sir.

Pom.

I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman and a friend of mine.

Lucio.

How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels ^note of Cæsar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it ^note clutched? What reply, ha? What sayest thou to this tune, matter and method ^note? Is't not ^note drowned i' the last rain ^note, ha? What sayest thou, Trot ^note? 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?

Pom.

Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her ^note beef, and she is herself in the tub.

Lucio.

Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd: an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey?

Pom.

Yes, faith, sir.

Lucio.

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

Pom.

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, ^note 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.

Pom.

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, Pompey 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 lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar.

Duke.

It is too general ^note a vice, and severity must cure it.

Lucio.

Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great ^note kindred; it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say this ^note Angelo was not made by man and woman after this downright way of creation: is it true, think you?

Duke.

How should he be made, then?

Lucio.

Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that, when he makes water, his urine is congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion generative ^note; 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 codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the Duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hanged 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 ^note for women; he was not inclined that way.

Lucio.

O, sir, you are deceived.

Duke.

'Tis not possible.

Lucio.

Who, not the Duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat 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 ^note fellow was the Duke: and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing.

Duke.

What, I ^note prithee, might be the cause?

Lucio.

No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be locked 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 darkened in your malice.

Lucio.

Sir, I know him, and I love him.

Duke.

Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer ^note 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 ^note harm; you'll forswear this again. ^note

Lucio.

I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived 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 returned again: this ungenitured agent 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 answered; he would never bring them to light: would he were returned! Marry, this Claudio ^note is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray for me. The Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's not past it yet, and I say to thee ^note, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt ^note brown bread and garlic: say that I said ^note so. Farewell.

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? ^noteEnter Escalus, Provost, and Officers with Mistress Overdone.

Escal.

Go; away with her to prison!

Mrs Ov.

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 ^note and play the tyrant.

Prov.

A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please your honour.

Mrs Ov.

My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by

him in the Duke's time; he promised 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!

Escal.

That fellow is a fellow of much license: let him be called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to; no more words. [Exeunt Officers with Mistress Ov.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished 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 hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death.

Escal.

Good even ^note, 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, late come from the See ^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 ^note dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There ^note 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 especially ^note to know himself.

Duke.

What pleasure was he given to?

Escal.

Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than

merry at any thing which professed 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 prepared. 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 framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my good leisure ^note, have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die.

Escal.

You have paid the heavens your function ^note, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath forced 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 sentenced himself.

Escal.

I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.

Duke.
Peace be with you! [Exeunt ^note Escalus and Provost.

He who the sword of heaven will bear
Should be as holy as severe;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go ^{note note};
More nor less to others paying
Than by self-offences ^note 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!
O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side!

How may likeness made in crimes ^note,
Making practice ^note on the times,
To draw ^{note note} with idle spiders' strings
Most ponderous and substantial things!
Craft against vice I must apply:
With Angelo to-night shall lie
His old betrothed but despised;
So disguise shall, by the disguised,
Pay with falsehood false exacting,
And perform an old contracting. [Exit. ACT IV. Scene I. The moated grange at St Luke's. Enter Mariana ^note and a Boy.

Boy sings.
Take, O, take those lips away,
  That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
  Lights that do mislead the morn: ^note
But my kisses bring again, bring again;
Seals of love, but ^note sealed in vain, sealed in vain.

Mari.
Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away:
Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice
Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. [Exit Boy. Enter Duke disguised as before.
I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish

You had not found me here so musical:
Let me excuse me, and believe me so,
My mirth it ^note much displeased, but pleased my woe.

Duke.
'Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm
To make bad good, and good provoke to harm.

I pray you, tell me, hath any body inquired for me here today? much upon this time have I promised here to meet ^note.

Mari.

You have not been inquired after: I have sat here all day.

Duke.

I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little: may be I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yourself.

Mari.

I am always bound to you.

Duke.
Very well met, and well come ^note.
What is the news from this good Deputy?

Isab.
He hath a garden circummured with brick,
Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd;
And to that vineyard is a planched gate,
That makes his opening with this bigger key:
This other doth command a little door
Which from the vineyard to the garden leads;
There have I made my promise
Upon the heavy middle of the night
To call upon him. ^note

Duke.
But shall you on your knowledge find this way?

Isab.
I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't:

With whispering and most guilty diligence,
In action all of precept ^note, he did show me
The way twice o'er.

Duke.
Are there no other tokens
Between you 'greed concerning her observance?

Isab.
No, none, but only a repair i' the dark;
And that I have possess'd him my most stay
Can be but brief; for I have made him know
I have a servant comes with me along,
That stays upon me, whose persuasion is
I come about my brother.

Duke.
'Tis well borne up.
I have not yet made known to Mariana
A word of this. What, ho! within! come forth! ^note Re-enter Mariana.
I pray you, be acquainted with this maid;
She comes to do you good.

Isab.
I do desire the like.

Duke.
Do you persuade yourself that I respect you?

Mari.
Good friar, I know you do, and have ^note found it.

Duke.
Take, then, this your companion by the hand,
Who hath a story ready for your ear.
I shall attend your leisure: but make haste;
The vaporous night approaches.

Mari.
Will't please you walk aside? [Exeunt Mariana and Isabella.

Duke.
O place and greatness, millions of false eyes
Are stuck upon thee! volumes of report
Run with these ^note false and most contrarious quests ^note
Upon thy doings! thousand escapes ^note of wit
Make thee the father of their idle dreams ^note,
And rack thee in their fancies ^note!

Re-enter Mariana and Isabella.
Welcome, how agreed? ^{note note}

Isab.
She'll take the enterprise upon her, father,
If you advise it.

Duke.
It is ^note not my consent,
But my entreaty too.

Isab.
Little have you to say
When you depart from him, but, soft and low,
‘Remember now my brother.’

Mari.
Fear me not.

Duke.
Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all.
He is your husband on a pre-contract:
To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin,
Sith that the justice of your title to him
Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go:
Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's ^note to sow ^note. [Exeunt. ^note Scene II. [Footnote: A room in the prison. Enter Provost and Pompey.

Prov.

Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head?

Pom.

If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head. ^note

Prov.

Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper: if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping, for you have been a notorious bawd.

Pom.

Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind; but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner.

Prov.

What, ho! Abhorson! Where's Abhorson, there?

Abhor.

Do you call, sir?

Prov.

Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd.

Abhor.

A bawd, sir? fie upon him! he will discredit our mystery.

Prov.

Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale.

Pom.

Pray, sir, by your good favour,—for surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look,— do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery?

Abhor.

Ay, sir; a mystery.

Pom.

Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery: but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine.

Abhor.

Sir, it is a mystery.

Pom.

Proof?

Abhor.

Every true man's apparel fits your thief: if it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough: so every true man's apparel fits your thief ^{note note}.

Re-enter Provost.

Prov.

Are you agreed?

Pom.

Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your ^note bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness.

Prov.

You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o'clock.

Abhor.

Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow.

Pom.

I do desire to learn, sir: and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare ^note; for, truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn.

Prov.
Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: [Exeunt Pompey and Abhorson.
The one ^note has my pity; not a jot the other,
Being a murderer, though he were my brother. ^note Enter Claudio.
Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death:
'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow
Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine?

Claud.
As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour
When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones:
He will not wake ^note.

Prov.
Who can do good on him?
Well, go, prepare yourself ^note. [Knocking within.] But, hark, what noise?—
Heaven give your spirits comfort! [Exit Claudio.] By and by.— ^note
I hope it is some pardon or reprieve
For the most gentle Claudio.

Enter Duke disguised as before.
Welcome, father.

Duke.
The best and wholesomest spirits of the night
Envelop you, good Provost! Who call'd here of late?

Prov.
None ^note, since the curfew rung.

Duke.
Not Isabel?

Prov.
No.

Duke.
They ^note will, then, ere't be long.

Prov.
What comfort is for Claudio?

Duke.
There's some in hope.

Prov.
It is a bitter Deputy.

Duke.
Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd
Even with the stroke and line of his great justice:
He doth with holy abstinence subdue
That in himself which he spurs on his power
To qualify in others: were he meal'd with that
Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous;
But this being so, he's just. [Knocking within.
Now are they come. [Exit Provost.
This is a gentle provost: seldom when
The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. [Knocking within.
How now! what noise? That spirit's possessed with haste
That wounds the unsisting ^note postern with these strokes. Re-enter Provost ^note.

Prov.
There he must stay until the officer
Arise to let him in: he is call'd up.

Duke.
Have you no countermand for Claudio yet,
But he must die to-morrow?

Prov.
None, sir, none.

Duke.
As near the dawning, provost, as it is,
You shall hear more ere morning.

Prov.
Happily ^note
You something know; yet I believe there comes
No countermand; no such example have we:
Besides, upon the very siege of justice
Lord Angelo hath to the public ear
Profess'd the contrary. ^note Enter a Messenger.
This is his lordship's ^note man.

Duke.
And here comes Claudio's pardon ^note.

Mes. [Giving a paper]

My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this further charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow; for, as I take it, it is almost day. ^note

Prov.

I shall obey him.

Duke. [Aside]
This is his pardon, purchased by such sin
For which the pardoner himself is in.
Hence hath offence his quick celerity,
When it is borne in high authority:
When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended,
That for the fault's love is the offender friended.
Now, sir, what news?

Prov.

I told you. Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before.

Duke.

Pray you ^note, let's hear.

Prov. [Reads ^note]

Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock; and in the afternoon Barnardine: for my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's head sent me by five.

Let this be duly ^note performed; with a thought that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.

What say you to this, sir?

Duke.

What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the afternoon?

Prov.

A Bohemian born, but here nursed up and bred; one that is a prisoner nine years old.

Duke.

How came it that the absent Duke had not either delivered him to his liberty or executed him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so.

Prov.

His friends still wrought reprieves for him: and, indeed, his fact, till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof.

Duke.

It is ^note now apparent?

Prov.

Most manifest, and not denied by himself.

Duke.

Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? how seems he to be touched?

Prov.

A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless ^note, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal ^note.

Duke.

He wants advice.

Prov.

He will hear none: he hath evermore had the liberty of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he would not: drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming warrant for it: it hath not moved him at all.

Duke.

More of him anon. There is written in your brow, provost, honesty and constancy: if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me; but, in the boldness of my cunning, I will lay my self in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenced him. To make you

understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite; for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy.

Prov.

Pray, sir, in what?

Duke.

In the delaying death.

Prov.

Alack, how may I do it, having the hour limited, and an express command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest.

Duke.

By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head borne to Angelo.

Prov.

Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour. ^note

Duke.

O, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it. Shave the head, and tie ^note the beard; and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared ^note before his death: you know the course is common. If any thing fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good fortune, by the Saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life.

Prov.

Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath.

Duke.

Were you sworn to the Duke, or to the Deputy?

Prov.

To him, and to his substitutes.

Duke.

You will think you have made no offence, if the Duke avouch the justice of your dealing?

Prov.

But what likelihood is in that?

Duke.

Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion ^note can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the Duke: you know the character, I doubt not; and the signet is not strange to you.

Prov.

I know them both.

Duke.

The contents of this is the return of the Duke: you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure; where you

shall find, within these two days he will be here. This is a thing that ^note Angelo knows not; for he this very day receives letters of strange tenour; perchance of the Duke's death; perchance entering into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ ^note. Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be: all difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head: I will give him a present shrift and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn.