SCENE I. A room in the prison.
Enter Duke, Claudio and Provost.
DUKE.So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
CLAUDIO.The miserable have no other medicineBut only hope.I have hope to live, and am prepared to die.
DUKE.Be absolute for death. Either death or lifeShall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:If I do lose thee, I do lose a thingThat none but fools would keep. A breath thou art,Servile to all the skyey influencesThat dost this habitation where thou keep’stHourly 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 th’ accommodations that thou bear’stAre nursed by baseness. Thou’rt by no means valiant;For thou dost fear the soft and tender forkOf a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,And that thou oft provok’st, yet grossly fear’stThy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;For thou exists on many a thousand grainsThat issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;For what thou hast not, still thou striv’st to get,And what thou hast, forget’st. Thou art not certain;For thy complexion shifts to strange effectsAfter the moon. If 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 thee. Friend hast thou none;For thine own bowels which do call thee sire,The mere effusion of thy proper loins,Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheumFor ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age,But as it were an after-dinner’s sleepDreaming on both; for all thy blessed youthBecomes as aged, and doth beg the almsOf palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beautyTo make thy riches pleasant. What’s yet in thisThat bears the name of life? Yet in this lifeLie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear,That makes these odds all even.
CLAUDIO.I humbly thank you.To sue to live, I find I seek to die,And seeking death, find life. Let it come on.
ISABELLA.[Within.] What ho! Peace here; grace and good company!
PROVOST.Who’s there? Come in. The wish deserves a welcome.
DUKE.Dear sir, ere long I’ll visit you again.
CLAUDIO.Most holy sir, I thank you.
Enter Isabella.
ISABELLA.My business is a word or two with Claudio.
PROVOST.And very welcome. Look, signior, here’s your sister.
DUKE.Provost, a word with you.
PROVOST.As many as you please.
DUKE.Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed.
[Exeunt Duke and Provost.]
CLAUDIO.Now, sister, what’s the comfort?
ISABELLA.Why,As all comforts are, most good, most good indeed.Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,Intends you for his swift ambassador,Where you shall be an everlasting leiger.Therefore your best appointment make with speed;Tomorrow you set on.
CLAUDIO.Is there no remedy?
ISABELLA.None, but such remedy as, to save a head,To cleave a heart in twain.
CLAUDIO.But is there any?
ISABELLA.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.
CLAUDIO.Perpetual durance?
ISABELLA.Ay, just; perpetual durance; a restraint,Though all the world’s vastidity you had,To a determined scope.
CLAUDIO.But in what nature?
ISABELLA.In such a one as, you consenting to’t,Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,And leave you naked.
CLAUDIO.Let me know the point.
ISABELLA.O, I do fear thee, Claudio, and I quake,Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,And six or seven winters more respectThan a perpetual honour. Dar’st thou die?The sense of death is most in apprehension;And the poor beetle that we tread uponIn corporal sufferance finds a pang as greatAs when a giant dies.
CLAUDIO.Why give you me this shame?Think you I can a resolution fetchFrom flowery tenderness? If I must die,I will encounter darkness as a brideAnd hug it in mine arms.
ISABELLA.There spake my brother! There my father’s graveDid utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die.Thou art too noble to conserve a lifeIn base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,Whose settled visage and deliberate wordNips youth i’ th’ head, and follies doth enewAs falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil.His filth within being cast, he would appearA pond as deep as hell.
CLAUDIO.The precise Angelo?
ISABELLA.O, ’tis the cunning livery of hellThe damned’st body to invest and coverIn precise guards! Dost thou think, Claudio,If I would yield him my virginityThou mightst be freed?
CLAUDIO.O heavens, it cannot be.
ISABELLA.Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank offence,So to offend him still. This night’s the timeThat I should do what I abhor to name,Or else thou diest tomorrow.
CLAUDIO.Thou shalt not do’t.
ISABELLA.O, were it but my life,I’d throw it down for your deliveranceAs frankly as a pin.
CLAUDIO.Thanks, dear Isabel.
ISABELLA.Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.
CLAUDIO.Yes. Has he affections in himThat thus can make him bite the law by th’ noseWhen he would force it? Sure it is no sin;Or of the deadly seven it is the least.
ISABELLA.Which is the least?
CLAUDIO.If it were damnable, he being so wise,Why would he for the momentary trickBe perdurably fined? O Isabel!
ISABELLA.What says my brother?
CLAUDIO.Death is a fearful thing.
ISABELLA.And shamed life a hateful.
CLAUDIO.Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot;This sensible warm motion to becomeA kneaded clod; and the delighted spiritTo bathe in fiery floods, or to resideIn thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;To be imprisoned in the viewless windsAnd blown with restless violence round aboutThe pendent world; or to be worse than worstOf those that lawless and incertain thoughtImagine howling—’tis too horrible.The weariest and most loathed worldly lifeThat age, ache, penury, and imprisonmentCan lay on nature is a paradiseTo what we fear of death.
ISABELLA.Alas, alas!
CLAUDIO.Sweet sister, let me live.What sin you do to save a brother’s life,Nature dispenses with the deed so farThat it becomes a virtue.
ISABELLA.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 lifeFrom thine own sister’s shame? What should I think?Heaven shield my mother played my father fair,For such a warped slip of wildernessNe’er issued from his blood. Take my defiance,Die, perish! Might but my bending downReprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed.I’ll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,No word to save thee.
CLAUDIO.Nay, hear me, Isabel.
ISABELLA.O fie, fie, fie!Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade.Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd.’Tis best that thou diest quickly.
[Going.]
CLAUDIO.O, hear me, Isabella.
Enter Duke as a Friar.
DUKE.Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.
ISABELLA.What is your will?
DUKE.Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have somespeech with you. The satisfaction I would require is likewise your ownbenefit.
ISABELLA.I have no superfluous leisure, my stay must be stolen out of otheraffairs, but I will attend you a while.
DUKE.[To Claudio aside.] Son, I have overheard what hath passed betweenyou and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; onlyhe hath made an assay of her virtue, to practise his judgement with thedisposition of natures. She, having the truth of honour in her, hathmade him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I amconfessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepareyourself to death. Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that arefallible. Tomorrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready.
CLAUDIO.Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I willsue to be rid of it.
DUKE.Hold you there. Farewell.
[Exit Claudio.]
Enter Provost.
Provost, a word with you.
PROVOST.What’s your will, father?
DUKE.That, now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me a while with themaid; my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by mycompany.
PROVOST.In good time.
[Exit Provost.]
DUKE.The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. The goodness thatis cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being thesoul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. Theassault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to myunderstanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, Ishould wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute,and to save your brother?
ISABELLA.I am now going to resolve him. I had rather my brother die by the lawthan my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the goodDuke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, Iwill open my lips in vain, or discover his government.
DUKE.That shall not be much amiss. Yet, as the matter now stands, he willavoid your accusation: he made trial of you only. Therefore fasten yourear on my advisings, to the love I have in doing good, a remedypresents itself. I do make myself believe that you may mostuprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem yourbrother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person;and much please the absent Duke, if peradventure he shall ever returnto have hearing of this business.
ISABELLA.Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do anything thatappears not foul in the truth of my spirit.
DUKE.Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak ofMariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier who miscarried atsea?
ISABELLA.I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.
DUKE.She should this Angelo have married, was affianced to her oath, and thenuptial appointed. Between which time of the contract and limit of thesolemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in thatperished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily thisbefell to the poor gentlewoman. There she lost a noble and renownedbrother, 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.
ISABELLA.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, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears forhis sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, butrelents not.
ISABELLA.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 howout of this can she avail?
DUKE.It is a rupture that you may easily heal, and the cure of it not onlysaves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.
ISABELLA.Show me how, good father.
DUKE.This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her firstaffection. His unjust unkindness, that in all reason should havequenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made itmore violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with aplausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point. Only referyourself to this advantage: first, that your stay with him may not belong; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and theplace answer to convenience. This being granted in course, and nowfollows all. We shall advise this wronged maid to stead up yourappointment, go in your place. If the encounter acknowledge itselfhereafter, it may compel him to her recompense; and here, by this, isyour brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged,and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit forhis attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doublenessof the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?
ISABELLA.The image of it gives me content already, and I trust it will grow to amost prosperous perfection.
DUKE.It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo; if forthis night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction.I will presently to Saint Luke’s; there at the moated grange residesthis dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch withAngelo, that it may be quickly.
ISABELLA.I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father.
[Exit Isabella.]
SCENE II. The street before the prison.
Enter Elbow, Pompey and Officers.
ELBOW.Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sellmen and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown andwhite bastard.
DUKE.O heavens, what stuff is here?
POMPEY.’Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was putdown, and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep himwarm; and furred with fox on lambskins too, to signify that craft,being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.
ELBOW.Come your way, sir.—Bless you, good father friar.
DUKE.And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir?
ELBOW.Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we take him to be athief 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 thinkWhat ’tis to cram a maw or clothe a backFrom such a filthy vice. Say to thyself,From their abominable and beastly touchesI drink, I eat, array myself, and live.Canst thou believe thy living is a life,So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.
POMPEY.Indeed, it does 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 workEre this rude beast will profit.
ELBOW.He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning. The deputycannot abide a whoremaster. If he be a whoremonger and comes beforehim, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
DUKE.That we were all, as some would seem to be,Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free!
ELBOW.His neck will come to your waist—a cord, sir.
Enter Lucio.
POMPEY.I spy comfort, I cry bail! Here’s a gentleman, and a friend of mine.
LUCIO.How now, noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Caesar? Art thou led intriumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion’s images, newly made woman,to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting itclutched? What reply, ha? What say’st thou to this tune, matter, andmethod? Is’t not drowned i’ th’ last rain, ha? What say’st thou, trot?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?
POMPEY.Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in thetub.
LUCIO.Why, ’tis good. It is the right of it. It must be so. Ever your freshwhore and your powdered bawd; an unshunned consequence; it must be so.Art going to prison, Pompey?
POMPEY.Yes, faith, sir.
LUCIO.Why, ’tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell. Go, say I sent thee thither. Fordebt, Pompey? Or how?
ELBOW.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 turngood husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.
POMPEY.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, why,your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.—Bless you, friar.
DUKE.And you.
LUCIO.Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha?
ELBOW.Come your ways, sir, come.
POMPEY.You will not bail me then, sir?
LUCIO.Then, Pompey, nor now.—What news abroad, friar? What news?
ELBOW.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 usurpthe beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in hisabsence. 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 toocrabbed that way, friar.
DUKE.It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.
LUCIO.Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied;but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating anddrinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not made by man andwoman 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 twostockfishes. But it is certain that when he makes water, his urine iscongealed ice; that I know to be true. And he is a motion ungenerative;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 acodpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the Duke that is absenthave done this? Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting ahundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand. He hadsome feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed himto mercy.
DUKE.I never heard the absent Duke much detected for women; he was notinclined 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 aducat in her clack-dish. The Duke had crotchets in him. He would bedrunk too, that let me inform you.
DUKE.You do him wrong, surely.
LUCIO.Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the Duke; and I believe Iknow the cause of his withdrawing.
DUKE.What, I 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 heldthe 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 hislife, and the business he hath helmed, must upon a warranted need givehim a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his ownbringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, astatesman, and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskilfully. Or, if yourknowledge 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 love.
LUCIO.Come, sir, I know what I know.
DUKE.I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, ifever the Duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you tomake your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you havecourage to maintain it. I am bound to call upon you, and I pray youyour 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 toounhurtful an opposite. But indeed, I can do you little harm. You’llforswear this again.
LUCIO.I’ll be hanged first! Thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more ofthis. Canst thou tell if Claudio die tomorrow or no?
DUKE.Why should he die, sir?
LUCIO.Why? For filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would the Duke we talk ofwere returned again. This ungenitured agent will unpeople the provincewith continency. Sparrows must not build in his house-eaves becausethey are lecherous. The Duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered.He would never bring them to light. Would he were returned! Marry, thisClaudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar, I pritheepray for me. The Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton onFridays. He’s now past it; yet, and, I say to thee, he would mouth witha beggar though she smelt brown bread and garlic. Say that I said so.Farewell.
[Exit.]
DUKE.No might nor greatness in mortalityCan censure ’scape. Back-wounding calumnyThe whitest virtue strikes. What king so strongCan tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?But who comes here?
Enter Escalus, Provost and Officers with Mistress Overdone, a Bawd.
ESCALUS.Go, away with her to prison.
BAWD.Good my lord, be good to me. Your honour is accounted a merciful man,good my lord.
ESCALUS.Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? Thiswould make mercy swear and play the tyrant.
PROVOST.A bawd of eleven years’ continuance, may it please your honour.
BAWD.My lord, this is one Lucio’s information against me. Mistress KateKeepdown was with child by him in the Duke’s time; he promised hermarriage. 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.
ESCALUS.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 Bawd.]
Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; Claudio must dietomorrow. Let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitablepreparation. If my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so withhim.
PROVOST.So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for th’entertainment of death.
ESCALUS.Good even, good father.
DUKE.Bliss and goodness on you!
ESCALUS.Of whence are you?
DUKE.Not of this country, though my chance is nowTo use it for my time. I am a brotherOf gracious order, late come from the SeeIn special business from his Holiness.
ESCALUS.What news abroad i’ th’ world?
DUKE.None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness that thedissolution of it must cure it. Novelty is only in request, and as itis as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course as it is virtuous tobe constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive tomake societies secure; but security enough to make fellowshipsaccursed. Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This newsis old enough, yet it is every day’s news. I pray you, sir, of whatdisposition was the Duke?
ESCALUS.One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to knowhimself.
DUKE.What pleasure was he given to?
ESCALUS.Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at anything whichprofessed to make him rejoice. A gentleman of all temperance. But leavewe him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous, and letme desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made tounderstand that you have lent him visitation.
DUKE.He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, butmost willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice. Yet hadhe framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceivingpromises of life, which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him,and now he is resolved to die.
ESCALUS.You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debtof your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman to theextremest shore of my modesty, but my brother justice have I found sosevere that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed Justice.
DUKE.If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shallbecome him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentencedhimself.
ESCALUS.I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.
DUKE.Peace be with you.
[Exeunt Escalus and Provost.]
He who the sword of heaven will bearShould be as holy as severe,Pattern in himself to know,Grace to stand, and virtue go;More nor less to others payingThan by self-offences weighing.Shame to him whose cruel strikingKills 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,Make practice on the times,To draw with idle spiders’ stringsMost ponderous and substantial things!Craft against vice I must apply.With Angelo tonight shall lieHis old betrothed but despised.So disguise shall, by th’ disguised,Pay with falsehood false exacting,And perform an old contracting.
[Exit.]