Ange.
We must not make a scare-crow 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.

Esca.
Ay, but yet
Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,
Than fall, and bruise to death: Alas, this gentleman,
Whom I would save, had a most noble father:
Let but your honour know14Q0092 (whom I believe
To be most strait in virtue) and consider
This, In ^note the working of your own affections,
Had time coher'd with place, or place with wishing,
Or that the resolute acting of your blood ^note
Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose,
Whether you had not some time in your life
Err'd in this point which now you censure him for,
And pull'd the law upon you.

Ange.
'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,
Another thing to fall. I not deny,
The jury, passing on the 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 seises on: What know ^note the laws,
That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant,
The jewel that we find, we stoop, and take it,
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 judgment pattern out my death,
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must dye.

Esca.
Be it as your wisdom will.

Ange.
Where is the provost?

Prov.
Here, if it like your honour.

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

Esca.
Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all!
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:
Some run from14Q0093 brakes of justice, answer ^note none;
And some condemned for a fault alone. Enter Elbow, Froth, Clown, Officers, &c.

Elbo.

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

Ange.

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

Elbo.

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.

Ange.

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

Elbo.

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 prophanation in the world, that good christians ought to have.

Esca.

This comes off well&dotup; here's a wise officer&dotup;

Ange.

Go to; What quality are they of? Elbow is your name? Why dost thou not speak, Elbow?

Clow.

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

Ange.

What are you, sir?

Elbo.

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

Esca.

How know you that?

Elbo.

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

Esca.

How! thy wife?

Elbo.

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

Esca.

Dost thou detest her therefore?

Elbo.

I say, sir, I will detest my self 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.

Esca.

How dost thou know that, constable?

Elbo.

Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accus'd in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanness there.

Esca.

By the woman's means?

Elbo.

Ay, sir, by mistress Overdone's means: but as she spit in his face, so she defy'd him.

Clow.

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

Elbo.

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

Esca. [to Ange.]

Do you hear how he misplaces?

Clow.

Sir, she came in great with child; and longing (saving your honours' reverence) for stew'd pruins; sir, 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.

Esca.

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

Clow.

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-belly'd, and longing, as I said, for pruins; and having but two in ^note 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.

Clow.

Very well: you being then, if you be remember'd, cracking the stones of the foresaid pruins;

Froth.

Ay, so I did, indeed.

Clow.

Why, very well: I telling you then, if you be remember'd, that such a one, and such a one, were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you;

Froth.

All this is true.

Clow.

Why, very well then:

Esca.

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 to what was done to her.

Clow.

Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.

Esca.

No, sir, nor I mean it not.

Clow.

Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave: And I beseech you, look into master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year; whose father dy'd at Hallowmas:—Was't not at Hallowmas, master Froth?

Froth.

All-hallond eve.

Clow.

Why, very well; I hope, here be truths:— He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir,14Q0094—'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.

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

Ange.
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.

Esca.

I think no less: Good morrow to your lordship.

Now, sir, come on: What was done to Elbow's wife, once more?

Clow.

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

Elbo.

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

Clow.

I beseech your honour, ask me.

Esca.

Well, sir; What did this gentleman to her?

Clow.

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?

Esca.

Ay, sir very well.

Clow.

Nay, I beseech you, mark it well.

Esca.

Well, I do so.

Clow.

Doth your honour see any harm in his face?

Esca.

Why, no.

Clow.

I'll be suppos'd 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.

Esca.

He's in the right, constable: What say you to it?

Elbo.

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

Clow.

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

Elbo.

Varlet, thou ly'st; thou ly'st, wicked varlet: the time is yet to come, that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.

Clow.

Sir, she was respected with him before he marry'd with her.

Esca.

Which is the wiser here? justice, or iniquity? —Is this true?

Elbo.

O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her before I was marry'd 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.

Esca.

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

Elbo.

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

Esca.

Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him, that thou would'st discover if thou could'st, let him continue in his courses, 'till thou know'st what they are.

Elbo.

Marry, I thank your worship for it:—Thou

seest, ^note thou wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee; thou art to continue now, thou varlet, thou art to continue.

Esca.

Where were you born, friend?

Froth.

Here in Vienna, sir.

Esca.

Are you of fourscore pounds a year?

Froth.

Yes, an't please you, sir.

Esca.

So.—What trade are you of, sir?

Clow.

A tapster; a poor widow's tapster.

Esca.

Your mistress's name?

Clow.

Mistress Overdone.

Esca.

Hath she had any more than one husband?

Clow.

Nine, sir; Overdone by the last.

Esca.

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 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.

Esca.

Well; no more of it, master Froth: farewel. —Come you hither to me, master tapster: What's your name, master tapster?

Clow.

Pompey.

Esca.

What else?

Clow.

Bum, sir.

Esca.

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 being ^note a tapster; Are you not? come, tell me true; it shall be the better for you.

Clow.

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

Esca.

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

Clow.

If the law would allow it, sir.

Esca.

But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allow'd in Vienna.

Clow.

Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth in the city?

Esca.

No, Pompey.

Clow.

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.

Esca.

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

Clow.

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

Esca.

Thank you, good Pompey: and, in requital of your prophesy, 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 shrewd Cæsar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

Clow.

I thank your worship for your good counsel; but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune shall better determine.

Whip me? No, no: let carman whip his jade;
The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade.

Esca.

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

Elbo.

Seven year and a half, sir.

Esca.

I thought, by the readiness in the office, you had continu'd in it some time; You say, seven years together?

Elbo.

And a half, sir.

Esca.

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?

Elbo.

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 mony, ^note and go through with all.

Esca.

Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.

Elbo.

To your worship's house, sir?

Esca.

To my house: Fare you well.—What's o'clock, think you?

Just.

Eleven, sir.

Esca.
I pray you, go home ^note to dinner with me.

Just.
I humbly thank you.

Esca.
It grieves me for the death of Claudio:
But there's no remedy.

Just.
Lord Angelo is severe.

Esca.
It is but needful:
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
But yet,—Poor Claudio!—There's no remedy.—

Come, sir. [Exeunt. SCENE II. A Room in the same. Enter a Servant, and Provost.

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

Prov.
Pray you do. [Exit Serv.] I'll know
His pleasure; may be, he'll relent: Alas,
He hath but as offended in a dream!
All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he
To dye for it! Enter Angelo.

Ange.
Now, what's the matter, provost?

Prov.
Is it your will Claudio shall dye to-morrow?

Ange.
Did not I tell thee, yea? had'st thou not order?
Why dost thou ask again?

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

Ange.
Go to; let that be mine:
Do you your office, or give up your place,
And you shall well be spar'd.

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

Ange.
Dispose of her
To some more fitter place; and that with speed. Re-enter Servant.

Serv.
Here is the sister of the man condemn'd,
Desires access to you.

Ange.
Hath he a sister?

Prov.
Ay, my good lord, a very virtuous maid;
And to be shortly of a sisterhood,
If not already.

Ange.
Well, let her be admitted.— [Exit Servant.
See you the fornicatress be remov'd;
Let her have needful, but not lavish means;
There shall be order for it. Enter Isabella, and Lucio.

Prov.
Save your honour!

Ange.
Stay a little while.—You're welcome: What's your will?

Isab.
I am a woful suitor to your honour,
Please but your honour hear me.

Ange.
Well, what's your suit?

Isab.
There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.

Ange.
Well; the matter?

Isab.
I have a brother is condemn'd to dye:
I do beseech you,let it be his fault,
And not my brother.

Prov.
Heaven give thee moving graces!

Ange.
Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it!
Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done:
Mine were the very cypher of a function,
To find the ^note faults,14Q0095 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!

Luci.
Give't not o'er so: to him again, intreat him,
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;

You are too cold: if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
To him, I say.

Isab.
Must he needs dye?

Ange.
Maiden, no remedy.

Isab.
Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,
And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.

Ange.
I will not do't.

Isab.
But can you, if you would?

Ange.
Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.

Isab.
But might you do't, and do the world no wrong,
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse
As mine is to him?

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

Luci.
You are too cold.

Isab.
Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,
May call it back again: Well, believe this,14Q0096
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace
As mercy does:
If he had been as you, and you as he,
You would have slipt, like him; but he, like you,
Would not have been so stern.

Ange.
Pray you, be gone.

Isab.
I would to heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabell! should it then be thus?
No; I would tell what 'twere to be judge, ^note
And what a prisoner.

Luci.
Ay, touch him: there's the vein.

Ange.
Your brother is a forfeit of the law,

And you but waste your words.

Isab.
Alas, alas!
Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once;
And he, that might the vantage best have took,
Found out the remedy: How would you be,
If he, which is the top of judgment, should
But judge you, as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breath within your lips,
Like man new made.14Q0097

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

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

Luci.
Ay, well said.

Ange.
The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If he, the first that did the edíct 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 shews what future evils
(Or new, or ^note by remissness new conceiv'd,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born)
Are now to have no súccessive degrees,
But, ere they ^note live, to end.

Isab.
Yet shew some ^note pity.

Ange.
I shew 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 satisfy'd;
Your brother dyes to-morrow; be content.

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

Luci.
That's well said.

Isab.
Could great men thunder,
As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be ^note quiet;
For every pelting petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder:—
Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Split'st ^note the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle: o, but ^note man, proud man,14Q0098
(Drest in a little brief authority;
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
His glassy essence) like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven,
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Luci.
O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent;
He's coming; I perceive't.

Prov.
Pray heaven ^note she win him!

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

Luci.
Thou'rt i'the right, girl; more o'that.

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

Luci.
Art avis'd o'that? more on't.

Ange.
Why do you put these sayings upon me?

Isab.
Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine ^note 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 tongue ^note
Against my brother's life.

&clquo;Ange.
&clquo;She speaks; and 'tis&crquo;
&clquo;Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.&crquo; Fare you well.

Isab.
Gentle my lord, turn back.

Ange.
I will bethink me: Come again to-morrow.

Isab.
Hark how I'll bribe you: Good my lord, turn back.

Ange.
How! bribe me?

Isab.
Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share with you.

Luci.
You had mar'd all else.

Isab.
Not with fond shekles of the tested gold,
Or stones, whose rates ^note are 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.

Ange.
Well; come to me to-morrow.

Luci.
Go to; 'tis well; away.

Isab.
Heaven keep your honour safe!

&clquo;Ange.
&clquo;Amen:&crquo;
&clquo;For I am that way going to temptation,&crquo;

&clquo;Where prayers cross.&crquo;

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

Ange.
At any time 'fore noon.

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

Ange.
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!
Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I,
That lying, with the ^note violet, in the sun,
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be,
That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman's lightness? having waste ground enough,
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,
And pitch our evils there? 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 could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite:—Ever 'till ^note now,
When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how.

SCENE III. A Room in a Prison. Enter Duke, habited like a Friar; and Provost.

Duke.
Hail to you, provost! so, I think, you are.

Prov.
I am the provost: What's your will, good friar?

Duke.
Bound by my charity, and my blest order,
I come to visit the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison: do me the common right
To let me see them; and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.

Prov.
I would do more than that, if more were needful. Enter Juliet.
Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine,
Who falling in the flames of ^note her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: She is with child;
And he that got it, sentenc'd: a young man,
More fit to do another such offence,
Than dye for this.

Duke.
When must he dye?

Prov.
As I do think, to-morrow.—
I have provided for you; [to Juli.] stay a while,
And you shall be conducted.

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

Juli.
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.

Juli.
I'll gladly learn.

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

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

Duke.
So then, it seems, your most offenceful act

Was mutually committed.

Juli.
Mutually.

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

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

Duke.
'Tis meet so, daughter: But lest you do repent
As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,—
Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven;
Showing we would not spare heaven,14Q0099 as we love it,
But as we stand in fear,—

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

Duke.
There rest.
Your partner, as I hear, must dye to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him:
So grace go with you! Benedicite! [Exit.

Juli.
Must dye to-morrow!—O injurious love,
That respites me a life whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!

Prov.
'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. A Room in Angelo's House. Enter Angelo.

Ange.
When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words;
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabell: heaven is in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew it's name;
And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception: The state, whereon I study'd,
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd und ^note tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,

Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain: O place! o form!
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tye the wiser souls
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou art blood:14Q0100
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, Enter Servant.
'Tis not the devil's crest:—How now? who's there?

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

Ange.
Teach her the way. [Exit Serv.] O heavens!
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart;
Making both it unable for itself,
And dispossessing all my other parts
Of necessary fitness?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air
By which he should revive: and even so
The general subject to a well-wish'd king
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.— Enter Isabella.
How now, fair maid?

Isab.
I am come to know your pleasure.

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

Isab.
Even so?—Heaven keep your honour!

Ange.
Yet may he live a while; and, it may be,
As long as you, or I: Yet he must dye.

Isab.
Under your sentence?

Ange.
Yea.

Isab.
When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve,

Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted
That his soul sicken not.

Ange.
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 sawcy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in restrained means
To make a false one.

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

Ange.
Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly.
Which had you rather, That the most just law
Now took your brother's life; or to ^note 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.

Ange.
I talk not of your soul; Our compell'd sins
Stand more for number than account ^note.

Isab.
How say you?

Ange.
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.

Ange.
Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul,
Were equal poize of sin and charity.

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

Ange.
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 be ^note ignorant, and in nothing good,
But graciously to know I am no better.

Ange.
Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright,
When it doth tax itself: as these † black masks
Proclaim an enshield' beauty ten times louder
Than beauty could display'd.—But mark me;
To be received plain, I'll speak more gross:
Your brother is to dye:

Isab.
So.

Ange.
And his offence is so, as it appears
Accountant to the law upon that pain:

Isab.
True.

Ange.
Admit no other way14Q0101 to save his life,
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
But in the loss of question) that you his sister,
Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-binding ^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 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'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.

Ange.
Then must your brother dye.

Isab.
And 'twere the cheaper way:
Better it were a brother dy'd at once,
Then ^note that a sister, by redeeming him,
Should dye for ever.

Ange.
Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
That you have slander'd so?

Isab.
An ignominious ^note ransom ^note, and free pardon,
Are of two houses: lawful mercy, sure,
Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

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

Isab.
O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean:
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
For his advantage that I dearly love.

Ange.
We are all frail.

Isab.
Else let my brother dye,
If not a feodary, but only he,
Owe, and succeed to, weakness ^note.14Q0102

Ange.
Nay, women are frail too.

Isab.
Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
Women?—Help, heaven!—men their 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.

Ange.
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 more, you're none;
If you be one, (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants) shew it now,
By putting on the destin'd livery.

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

Ange.
Plainly conceive, I love you.

Isab.
My brother did love Juliet;
And you tell me, that he shall dye for it.

Ange.
He shall not Isabell, if you give me love.

Isab.
I know, your virtue hath a licence in't,
Which seems a little fouler than it is,
To pluck on others.

Ange.
Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.

Isab.
Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And most pernicious purpose! Seeming! seeming!—
I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an out-stretcht throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

Ange.
Who will believe thee, Isabell?
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 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 ling'ring 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 you true. [Exit Angelo.

Isab.
To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue
Either of condemnation or approof!
Bidding the law make court'sy to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fallen ^note by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhor'd pollution.
Then, Isabell, live chast; and, brother, dye:
More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request;
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.

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