SCENE II.
The Street.
Enter Lucio, and two Gentlemen.
Lucio.
If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to
Composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the
Dukes fall upon the King.
1 Gent.
Heav'n grant us its Peace, but not the King of
Hungary's.
2 Gent.
Amen.
Lucio.
Thou conclud'st like the Sanctimonious Pyrat, that
went to Sea with the ten Commandments, but scrap'd one
out of the Table.
-- 200 --
2 Gent.
Thou shalt not steal?
Lucio.
Ay, that he raz'd.
1 Gent.
Why? 'twas a Commandment to command the
Captain and all the rest from their Functions; they put
forth to steal: There's not a Soldier of us all, that, in the
Thanksgiving before Meat, do relish the Petition well that
prays for Peace.
2 Gent.
I never heard any Soldier dislike it.
Lucio.
I believe thee: For I think thou never wast where
Grace was said.
2 Gent.
No? a dozen times at least.
1 Gent.
What? in Meeter?
Lucio.
In any Proportion, or in any Language.
1 Gent.
I think, or in any Religion.
Lucio.
Ay, why not? Grace, is Grace, despight of all
Controversie; as for Example, Thou thy self art a wicked
Villain, despight of all Grace.
1 Gent.
Well; there went but a Pair of Sheers between us.
Lucio.
I grant; as there may between the Lists and the
Velvet. Thou art the List.
1 Gent.
And thou the Velvet; thou art good Velvet;
thou'rt a three-pil'd Piece I warrant thee: I had as lief be a
List of an English Kersey, as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for
a French Velvet. Do I speak feelingly now?
Lucio.
I think thou dost; and indeed with most painful
feeling of thy Speech: I will, out of thine own Confession,
learn to begin thy Health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink
after thee.
1 Gent.
I think I have done my self wrong, have I not?
2 Gent.
Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art tainted,
or free.
Enter Bawd.
Lucio.
Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes.
I have purchas'd as many Diseases under her Roof,
As come to—
2 Gent.
To what, I pray?
Lucio.
Judge.
2 Gent.
To three thousand Dolours a Year.
1 Gent.
Ay, and more.
Lucio.
A French Crown more.
-- 201 --
1 Gent.
Thou art always figuring Diseases in me; but
thou art full of Error, I am sound.
Lucio.
Nay, not, as one would say, healthy; but so
sound, as things that are hollow; thy Bones are hollow;
Impiety has made a Feast of thee.
1 Gent.
How now, which of your Hips has the most
profound Sciatica?
Bawd.
Well, well; there's one yonder arrested, and carry'd
to Prison, was worth five thousand of you all.
2 Gent.
Who's that, I prethee?
Bawd.
Marry Sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.
1 Gent.
Claudio to Prison? 'tis not so.
Bawd.
Nay, but I know 'tis so; I saw him arrested;
saw him carry'd away; and which is more, within these
three Days his Head is to be chopt off.
Lucio.
But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so:
Art thou sure of this?
Bawd.
I am too sure of it; and it is for getting Madam
Julietta with Child.
Lucio.
Believe me this may be; he promised to meet
me two Hours since, and he was ever precise in Promise-keeping.
2 Gent.
Besides, you know it draws something near to
the Speech we had to such a Purpose.
1 Gent.
But most of all agreeing with the Proclamation.
Lucio.
Away, let's go learn the Truth of it.
[Exeunt.
Bawd.
Thus, what with the War, what with the Sweat,
what with the Gallows, and what with Poverty, I am Custom-shrunk.
How now? what's the News with you?
Enter Clown.
Clown.
Yonder Man is carry'd to Prison.
Bawd.
Well; what has he done?
Clown.
A Woman.
Bawd.
But what's his Offence?
Clown.
Groping for Trouts in a peculiar River.
Bawd.
What? is there a Maid with Child by him?
Clown.
No; but there's a Woman with Maid by him.
You have not heard of the Proclamation, have you?
Bawd.
What Proclamation, Man?
Clown.
All Houses in the Suburbs of Vienna must be
pluck'd down.
-- 202 --
Bawd.
And what shall become of those in the City?
Clown.
They shall stand for Seed; they had gone down
too, but that a wise Burger put in for them.
Bawd.
But shall all our Houses of Resort in the Suburbs
be pull'd down?
Clown.
To the Ground, Mistress.
Bawd.
Why here's a Change indeed in the Commonwealth;
what shall become of me?
Clown.
Come, fear not you; good Counsellors lack no
Clients; though you change your Place, you need not
change your Trade: I'll be your Tapster still. Courage,
there will be pity taken on you; you that have worn
your Eyes almost out in the Service, you will be considered.
Bawd.
What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? let's withdraw.
Clown.
Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the Provost to
Prison; and there's Madam Juliet.
[Ex. Bawd and Clown.
Enter Provost, Claudia, Juliet and Officers.
Claud.
Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to th' World?
Bear me to Prison, where I am committed.
Prov.
I do it not in evil Disposition,
But from Lord Angelo by special Charge.
Claud.
Thus can the Demi-god, Authority,
Make us pay down, for our Offence, by weight
The words of Heav'n; on whom it will, it will;
On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.
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 by the immoderate use
Turns to Restraint: Our Natures do pursue,
Like Rats that ravin down their proper Bane,
A thirsty Evil, 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 of Imprisonment: What's thy Offence, Claudio?
Claud.
What, but to speak of, would offend again.
Lucio.
What is't, Murder?
-- 203 --
Claud.
No.
Lucio.
Letchery?
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 Letchery 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 lack
Of outward Order. This we came not to,
Only for Propagation of a Dowre
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 mutual Entertainment
With Character too gross, is writ in Juliet.
Lucio.
With Child, perhaps?
Claud.
Unhappily, even so.
And the new Deputy, now for the Duke,
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of Newness,
Or whether that the Body publick be
A Horse whereon the Governor doth ride,
Who newly in the Seat, that it may know
He can command, lets it strait 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 th' Wall
So long, that nineteen Zodiacks have gone round,
And none of them been worn; and for a Name,
Now puts the drowsie and neglected Act
Freshly on me; 'tis surely for a Name.
Lucio.
I warrant it is; and thy Head stands so tickle on
thy Shoulders, that a Milk-maid, if she be 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 prethee, Lucio, do me this kind Service:
-- 204 --
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, that she make Friends
To the strict Deputy; bid her self assay him,
I have great Hope in that; for in her Youth
There is a prone and speechless Dialect,
Such as moves Men! beside, 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 upon grievous Imposition
as for the enjoying of thy Life, who I would be sorry
should be thus foolishly lost, at a Game of Tick-tack. I'll
to her.
Claud.
I thank you, good Friend Lucio.
Lucio.
Within two Hours.
Claud.
Come Officer, away.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
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 compleat Bosom: 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.
May your Grace speak of it.
Duke.
My holy Sir, none better knows than you
How I have ever lov'd the Life remov'd,
And held in idle price to haunt Assemblies
Where Youth and Cost, and witless Bravery keeps.
I have delivered to Lord Angelo,
A Man of Stricture and firm Abstinence,
My absolute Power and Place in Vienna,
And he supposes me travell'd to Poland,
For so I have strew'd it in the common Ear,
And so it is receiv'd: Now, pious Sir,
You will demand of me, why I do this.
Fri.
Gladly, My Lord.
-- 205 --
Duke.
We have strict Statutes, and most biting Laws,
The needful Bits and Curbs for head-strong Weeds,
Which for this fourteen Years we have let slip,
Even like an o'er-grown Lion in a Cave
That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond Fathers,
Having bound up the threat'ning Twigs of Birch,
Only to stick it in their Childrens sight,
For Error, not to use; in time the Rod
More mock'd than fear'd: So our Decrees,
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.
It rested in your Grace
To unloose this ty'd-up Justice, when you pleas'd:
And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd
Than in Lord Angelo.
Duke.
I do 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
When evil Deeds have their permissive Pass,
And not the Punishment: Therefore indeed, my Father,
I have on Angelo impos'd the Office,
Who may in th' ambush of my Name strike home,
And yet, my Nature never in the fight
To do in slander: And to behold his Sway,
I will, as 'twere a Brother of your Order,
Visit both Prince and People; therefore I prethee
Supply me with the Habit, and instruct me
How I may formally in Person bear
Like a true Friar. More Reasons for this Action,
At your 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.
-- 206 --
SCENE IV.
A Nunnery.
Enter Isabella and Francisca.
Isab.
And have you Nuns no farther Privileges?
Nun.
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 of Saint Clare.
Lucio within.
Lucio.
Hoa! Peace be in this Place.
Isab.
Who's that which calls?
Nun.
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 shew your Face,
Or if you shew your Face, you must not speak.
He calls again, I pray you answer him.
[Exit Fran
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.
Wo me, for what?
Lucio.
For that, which if my self 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.
Lucio.
'Tis true; I would not, tho' tis my familiar Sir
With Maids to seem the Lapwing, and to jest,
Tongue, far from Heart; play with all Virgins so.
I hold you as a thing en-sky'd and sainted,
-- 207 --
Be 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 having embrac'd,
As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time
That from the Seedness the bare Fallow brings
To teeming Foyson; even so her plenteous Womb
Expresseth his full Tilth and Husbandry.
Isab.
Some one with Child by him? My Cozen Juliet?
Lucio.
Is she your Cozen?
Isab.
Adoptedly, as School-Maids change their Names,
By vain, tho' apt Affection.
Lucio.
She it is.
Isab.
Let him marry her.
Lucio.
This is the Point.
The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;
Bore many Gentlemen, my self being one,
In hand, and hope of Action; but we do learn,
By those that know the very Nerves of State,
His givings out 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 natural Edge
With Profits of the Mind, Study and Fast.
He, to give Fear to Use and Liberty,
Which have for long run by the hideous Law,
As Mice by Lyons, hath pickt out an Act,
Under whose heavy Sense your Brother's Life
Falls into Forfeit; he arrests him on it,
And follows close the Rigor of the Statute,
To make him an Example; all Hope is gone,
Unless you have the Grace by your fair Prayer
To soften Angelo; and that's my Pith of Business
'Twixt you, and your poor Brother.
Isab.
Doth he so
Seek his Life?
-- 208 --
Lucio.
Has censur'd him already,
And, as I hear, the Provost hath a Warrant
For's Execution.
Isab.
Alas! what poor
Ability's in me, to do him good?
Lucio.
Assay the Power you have.
Isab.
My Power? Alas! I doubt.
Lucio.
Our Doubts are Traitors,
And makes 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 truly theirs,
As they themselves would owe them.
Isab.
I'll see what I can do.
Lucio.
But speedily.
Isab.
I will about it strait;
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.
Charles Gildon [1709–1710], The works of Mr. William Shakespear; in six [seven] volumes. Adorn'd with Cuts. Revis'd and Corrected, with an Account of the Life and Writings of the Author. By N. Rowe ([Vol. 7] Printed for E. Curll... and E. Sanger [etc.], London) [word count] [S11401].
