Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love How now, fair maid? Isab. 1 am come to know your pleasure Ang. That you might know it, would much better please me, Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother canno live. Isab. Even so 7-Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring 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 re prieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted, Ang. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,-In Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven; Showing, we'd not spare heaven as we love it, Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil; There rest. To several subjects: heaven hath my words; empty Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. Ang. Say you so? then I shall pose you quickly. Which had you rather, That the most just law Now took your brother's life; or, 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 sonl: Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than account. Against the thing I say. Answer to this;- 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. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poise 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. Ang. Nay, but hear me: Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good. Ang. 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 die. Could fetch your brother from the manacles leah. As much for my poor brother, as myself; Ang. Then must your brother die. Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence Iaab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon, Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother Isab. O pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out, mean: I something do excuse the thing I hate, By yielding up thy body to my will; And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. ACT III. [Exit. SCENE 1. A Room in the Prison. Else let my brother die, Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord If not a feodary, but only he, Nay, women are frail too. Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them-I selves; Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Ang. I think it well: I do arrest your words: Be that you are, Isab. I have no tongue, but one: gentle my lord, me, That he shall die for it. Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Believe me, on mine honour, I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't: Arg. Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope: have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. Duke. Be absolute for death: either death or life, Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing (Servile to all the skiey influences,) For all the accommodations that thou bear'st, For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork self; For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains certain; For thy complexion shifts to strange affects, But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich, beauty, To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this Yet in this life yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even. Isab. What, ho! Peace here; grace and good Prov. Who's there? come in; the wish de- Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again. Isab. My business is a word or two with Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, Prov. Duke. Provost, a word with you. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, To-morrow you set on. To cleave a heart in twain. But is there any? Perpetual durance? Claud. But in what nature? Claud. Let me know the point. In corporal suflerance finds a pang as great Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him, Claud. If it were damnable, he being so wise Death is a fearful thing. To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot: The weariest and most loathed worldly life, Sweet sister, let me live: O, you beast! Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair? Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance: Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. O, fie, fie, fie! Why give you me this shame ? Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade: Think you I can a resolution fetch Isab. There spake my brother; there my fa ther's grave Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die: Whose settled visage and deliberate word The princely Angelo? [Going. O hear me, Isabella. Re-enter Duke. Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. Isab. What is your will? Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, 1 would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your own benefit. Isab. I have no superfinous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile. Duke. [To Claudio, aside.] Son, I have overheard what hath past between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures: she having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive: I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death: Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: to-mor-the continuance of her first affection; his unjust row you must die; go to your knees, and make unkindness, that in all reason should have ready. quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Ángelo: 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, now follows all. We shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense: and here, by Prov. In good time. [Exit Provost. this, is your brother saved, your honour unDuke. The hand that hath made you fair, hath tainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the made you good: the goodness, that is cheap in corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame, beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness; but and make fit for his attempt. If you think well grace, being the soul of your complexion, should to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath convey'd think you of it? to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How would you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother? Isab. Let me hear you speak further; I have spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana the sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea 7 Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. Duke. Her should this Angelo have married: was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frede rick was wrecked at sea, having in that perish'd 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 tears, and dry'd 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 for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live But how out of this can she avail? Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal: Enter Lucio. Elb. His neck will come to your waist, a cord, sir. Clo. I spy comfort; I cry, bail: Here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine. Duke. You are pleasant, sir; pace Lucio. Why, what a ruthles is this in him, for the rebellion of a cepiece, to take away the life of a man? Would the duke, that is absent, have done this? Ere he would have Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? What, at hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, the heels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph ? he would have paid for the nursing of a thouWhat, is there none of Pygmalion's images, sand: He had some feeling of the sport; he newly made woman, to be had now, for putting knew the service, and that instructed him to the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch'd? Duke. I never heard the absent duke much What reply? Ha? What say 'st thou to this tune, detected for women; he was not inclined that matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i' the 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? Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub. Lucio. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it, inust be so: Ever your fresh whore, and your powder'd bawd: an unshunn'd consequence; it must be so: Art going to prison, Pompey ? Clo. Yes, 'faith, sir. Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey: Farewell: Go; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? Or how? mercy. way. Lucio. O, sir, you are deceived. Lucio. Who? not the duke? yes, your begga of fifty-and his use was, to put a ducat in he clack-dish: the duke had crotchets in nim: H 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 fellow was the duke: and I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing. Duke. What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause? Lucio. No,-pardon-tis a secret must be lock'd within the teeth and the fips: but this I subject held the duke to be wise. can let you understand,-The greater file of the Duke. Wise? why, no question but he was. Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighLucio. Well, thep, imprison him: If imprisoning fellow. ment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or Bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too; mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey: Commend me to the prison, Pompey; You will business he hath helmed, must, upon a warturn good husband now, Pompey; you will ranted, need give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringkeep the house. ings 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 love. Clo. 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. Come, sir, I know what I know. Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey ? Ha?, Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. Clo. You will not bail me then, sir? know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return (as our prayers are he may,) let Lucio. Then, Pompey ? nor now.-What news me desire you to make your answer before abroad, friar? What news? Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. [Exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers. What news, friar, of the duke? 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 a vice, and severity must cure it. 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 op posite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm; you'll forswear this again. Lucio. I'll be hang'd first: thon 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 return'd again: this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must net build in his house-eaves, because they Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark great kindred; it is well ally'd: but it is impos-deeds darkly answered; he would never bring sible to extirpate it quite, friar, till eating and them to light: 'would, he were return'd! Marry, drinking be put down. They say, this Angelo was this Claudio is condemn'd for untrussing. Fare not made by man and woman, after the down- well, good friar; I pr'ythee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on right way of creation: Is it true, think you? Fridays. He's now past it; yet, and I say to Duke. How should he be made then? Lucio. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him: thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though -Some that he was begot between two stock-she smelt brown bread and garlick: say, that I fishes:-But it is certain, that when he makes said so. Farewell. Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality water his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion ungenerative, Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes: What king so strong that's infallible. Exit. |