That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!
Prov.
SCENE IV.-A ROOM IN ANGELO'S HOUSE.
Enter Angelo.

'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt.

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray [words. To several subjects: heaven hath my empty Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his 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 and tedious: yea, my gravity, Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, Could I, with boot,1 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 tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood; Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, "Tis not the devil's crest.

How now, fair maid?

Isab. I am come to know your pleasure. Ang. That you might know it, would much better please me. [live. Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot Isab. Even so?-Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring. Ang. Yet may he live a while; and, it may be As long as you or I: Yet he must die. Isab. Under your sentence? Ang. Yea.

Is. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted, This his soul sicken not.

Is. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. A. 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 person 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 accompt. 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 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. 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 ignoOr seem so craftily; and that's not good. [rant, Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better. [bright,

Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most When it doth tax itself: as these black masks Proclaim an enshield1 beauty ten times louder Than beauty could display.-But mark me; 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 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 law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your person To this supposed, or else let 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 honour up to shame.

Ang. Then must your brother die. Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way: Better it were a brother died at 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 ransom, and free pardon,

1 Covered.

Are of two houses: lawful mercy is
Nothing akin to foul redemption. [tyrant;
Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a
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'd have, we speak not what we
I something do excuse the thing I hate, [mean:
For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.
Isab.

Else let my brother die, If, not a feodary, but only he Owe,2 and succeed by weakness. Ang. Nay, women are frail too. I.Ay,as the glasseswhere theyviewthemselves; 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.

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
I do arrest your words; be that you are, [bold?
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), show it now,
By putting on the destin❜d livery.

Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Let me entreat you, speak the former language. Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell That he shall die for it. [me, Ang. He shall not, Isabel, 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.

Ang.

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

Isab. Ha? little honour to be much believ'd, And most pernicious purpose!-Seeming, seemI will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't: [ing! Sign me a present pardon for my brother, 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 theysue for; redeemthybrother By yielding up thy person 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 shall I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, 1 Owing service.

2 Own.

Either of condemnation or reproof!
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 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 person stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.

Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
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 Third.

SCENE I.-A ROOM IN THE PRISON.

Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. D.So, then you hopeof pardon from lord Angelo? Claud. The miserable have no other medicine But only hope:

I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.

[art.

Du. 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 [life,That none but fools would keep: a breath thou (Servile to all the skiey influences), That dost 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 run'st toward him still: Thou art not noble ;

For all the accommodations that thou bear'st, Are nurs'd by baseness: Thou art 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 provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy-
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains [self;
That 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 effects,1
After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art 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,2 and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner: Thou hast nor youth,
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, [nor age;
Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thouhastneither heat, affection, limb, norbeauty,
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this,
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
Claud.

1 Affections.

I humbly thank you. 2 Leprous eruptions.

To sue to live, I find, I seek to die;
And seeking death, find life: Let it come on.
Enter Isabella.

Isab. What, ho! Peace here; grace and good
company!
[a welcome.
Prov. Who's there? come in: the wish deserves
Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you.
Is. My business is a word or two with Claudio.
Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's
Duke. Provost, a word with you. [your sister.
Prov.
As many as you please.
Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be
Yet hear them.
[conceal'd,
[Exeunt Duke and Provost.
Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort?
Isab. Why, as all comforts are; most good in
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, [deed:
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting lieger;1
Therefore your best appointment make with
To-morrow you set on.
[speed:
Claud.
Is there no remedy?
Isab. None, but such remedy, as to save a head,
To 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 all the world's fastidity 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 And leave you naked. [bear, Claud. Let me know the point. Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st 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 From flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms.

I. 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 [deputy-
In base appliances. This outward-sainted
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth enmew,2
As falcon doth the fowl,-is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.
Claud.

The princely Angelo ? Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The vilest body to invest and cover In princely guards! Dost thou think, Claudio, 1 Resident 2 Make hide under cover.

I. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow. Claud. Yes. Has he 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, would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fin'd-O Isabel!

Isab. What says my brother?
Claud.

Death is a fearful thing. Isab. And shamed life a hateful.

C. 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 spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions 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 thoughts
Imagine howling!-'tis too horrible!

The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury, and 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.

Is. 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? take mydefiance: Die; perish! might but my 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, hear me,

Isab.

Isabel.
O, fye, fye, fye:
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade:
"Tis best that thou diest quickly.
Claud.

[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, 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. [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-morrow you must ie; go to your knees, and make ready.

C. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it. D. Hold you there: Farewell. [Exit Claudio. Re-enter Provost.

Provost, a word with you.

Prov. What's your will, father?

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

Prov. In good time.

[Exit Provost. Duke. The hand that hath made you fair, hath made you good: the goodness that is cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in goodness: but grace, being the soul of your complexion, should keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath convey'd 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. I am now going to resolve him: 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, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe, that you may most uprighteously 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 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?

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 Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark, how

heavily this befel 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 combinate1 husband, this well seeming Angelo.

Isa. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? D. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vowswhole, 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: and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.

Isab. Show me how, good father.

D. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love,bath, 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, now follows all. We shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; 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.2 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 reproof. What think you of it? I. The image of it gives me content already; and Itrust itwill growto a mostprosperous 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 St Luke's; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana: At that place call upon me; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.

Isab. I thank you for this comfort: Fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.-THE STREET BEFORE THE PRISON.

Enter Duke, as a Friar; to him Elbow,
Clown, and Officers.

Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy of 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! Clo. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox and lamb 1 Betrothed. 2 Over-reached. 8 A sweet wine.

skins 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: 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 pick-lock, which we have sent to the deputy.

Duke. I never heard the absent duke much detected 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:1 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 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 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.

Lucio. How, now, noble Pompey? What, at the heels of Cæsar? Art thou fed in triumph? Art going to prison, Pompey?

Clo. Yes, faith, sir.

Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey: Farewell: Go; say, I sent thee thither.

C. 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.

Clo. You will not bail me then, sir?

abroad, friar? What news?

Elb. Come your ways, sir; come.
Lucio. Go,-to kennel, Pompey, go:

[Exeunt Elbow, Clown, 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 wenching would do no harm in him: something too crabbed 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 ally'd.

Duke. You are pleasant, sir; and speak apace. Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is it in An gelo to take away the life of a man thus? Would the duke that is absent have done this? He knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.

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 harın: you'll forswear this again.

Lucio. I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this: I would the duke we talk of were return'd again: this agent will unpeople the province. Farewell, good friar: Iprythee pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays: say that I said so. Farewell. [Exit.

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?

Enter Escalus, Provost, Overdone, and Officer's. Escal. Go, away with her to prison.

is accounted a merciful man: good my lord. Over. Good my lord, be good to me; your honour

a wooden dish with a cover, which they clacked. 1 Clack-dish: The beggars proclaimed their want by

2 Guided.