Than beauty could displayed.-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 subscribet 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, cr 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 body
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
And strip myself to death, as to a bed [rubies,
That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body 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 senThat you have slander'd so? [tence Isub. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses: lawful mercy is Nothing akin to foul redemption.

Ang. 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'd have, we speak not what

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
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,) show it now,
By putting on the destin❜d livery.

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

Isub. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd, And most pernicious purpose!-Seeming, seem ing!*

I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an outstretch d throat, I'll tell the
Aloud, what man thou art.
[world

Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life.
My voucht against you, and my place i'the
Will so your accusation overweigh, [state,
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
By yielding up thy body to my will; [brother
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
[Exit.
Isab. To whom shall I complain? Did I tell

true.

SCENE I-A Room in the Prison. Enter DUKE, CLAUDIO, and PROVOST. Duke. So, then you hope of 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.
Duke. Be absolutes for death; either death,
or life,
[life,-
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
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;

[art,

For all the ccommodations that thou bear'st, Are nurs'd in baseness: Thou art by no means valian.,

For thou dost fea. The soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm: Th. best of rest is sleep,

that thou
provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
death, which is no more. Thou art not
thyself;

For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
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 are not
certain;

For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,* 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,t and the rheum, For ending thee no sooner: Thou hast nor youth,

nor age;

But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
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,

Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor
beauty,
[this,

[fear,

To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we
That makes these odds all even.
Claud. I humbly thank you.
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!

Prov. Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.

Duke. Dear Sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud. Most holy Sir, I thank you.
Isab. My business is a word or two with
Claudio.

Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister.

Duke. Provost, a word with you.
Prov. As many as you please.
Duke. Bring them to speak, where I may be
conceal'd,

Yet hear them.

[Exeunt DUKE and PROVOST. Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort? Isab. Why, as all comforts are; most good in deed:

Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for a swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:
Therefore your best appointment] make with
To-morrow you set on.

Claud. Is there no remedy?

[speed;

Isab. None, but such remedy, as to save a To cleave a heart in twain.

Claud. But is there any?

[head,

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 vastidity¶ you had. To a determin'd scope.

Claud. But in what nature!

Asab. In such a one as (you consenting to't) Would bark your honour from that trunk you And leave you naked.

Claud. Let me know the point.

[bear,

+ Leprous eruptions. Preparation.

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.

Isab. 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
In base appliances. This outward-sainted de
puty,-

Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i'the head, and follies doth enmew,*
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?

Isub. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell, The damned'st body to invest and cover In princely guards!+ Dost thou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my virginity, Thou might'st be freed.

Claud. O, heavens! it cannot be.

Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank offence,

So to offend him still: This night's the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou diest to-morrow.

Claud. Thou shalt not do't.
Isub. O, were it but my life,
I'd throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.

Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel.

Isab. 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.

Claud. 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.

already; and, I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous 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.

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

SCENE 11-The Street before the Prison. Enter DUKE, as a Friar; to him ELBOW, CLOWN, and Officers.

Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for 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-skins too, to signify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.

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 must 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?

Elb. 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-born. Farewell, good Pompey: ComBawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too; mend me to the prison, Pompey: You will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep Clo. I hope, Sir, your good worship will be my bail.

the house.t

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. Fie, sirrah; a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live: Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back, From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,-From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend. Clo. 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, [cer; Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, offiCorrection and instruction must both work, Ere this rude beast will profit.

Elb. He must before the deputy, Sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide å whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.

Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be, [free! Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, 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.

Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the heels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What say'st thou to this tune, 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?

A solitary farm house. A sweet wine. *For a Spanish padlock. Tied like your waist with a rope.

Pompey.-Bless you, friar.
Duke. And you.

Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey?

Ha?

Elb. Come your ways, Sir; come.

Clo. You will not bail me, then, Sir?

Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now.-What news abroad, friar? What news? Elb. Come your ways, Sir; conie. 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 auy? Lucio. Some say, he is with the emperor of is he, think you? Russia; other some, he is in Rome: But where

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.

do no harm in him: something too crabbed Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would 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 possible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and great kindred; it is well allied: but it is imdrinking be put down. They say, this Angelo downright way of creation: Is it true, think you? was not made by man and woman, after the Duke. How should he be made then?

Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn'd him: -Some, that he was begot between two stockfishes:-But it is certain, that when he makes water, his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion§ ungenerative, that's infallible.

Duke. You are pleasant, Sir; and speak apace. him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece, to take Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in away the life of a man? Would the duke, that is absent, have done this? Ere he would have

hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: He had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.

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: 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 bck'd within the teeth and the lips: but this I can let you understand,-The greater filet of the subject held the duke to be wise.

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, BAWD, and Officers. Escal. Go, away with her to prison.

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

Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear, and play the tyrant.

Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, may it please your honour.

Bawd. My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me: mistress Kate Keep-down was with child by him in the duke's time, he promised her marriage; 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.

Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings 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 darken'd 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, if ever the duke return, (as our prayers are he may,) let me desire you to make your answer before 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 opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this again.

Lucio. I'll be hang'd first: thou 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 tundish. I would, the duke, we talk of, were return'd again: this ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answer'd; he would never bring them to light: would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemn'd for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I pr'ythee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton¶ on Fridays. He's now past it; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic: say, that I said so. Farewel. [Exit.

with her to prison: Go to; no more words. [Exeunt BAWD and Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation: if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him.

Prov. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death.

Escal. Good even, good father.

Duke. Bliss and goodness on you!
Escal. Of whence are you?

Duke. Not of this country, though my chance

is now

To use it for my time: I am a brother
Of gracious order, late come from the see,
In special business from his holiness.

Escal. What news abroad i'the world?

Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive, to make societies secure; but security enough, to make fellowships accurs'd: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, Sir, of what disposition was the duke? Escal. One, that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself.

Duke. What pleasure was he given to?

Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which profess'd to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand, that you have lent him visitation.

Duke. He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice: yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now he is resolved to die.

Escal. You have paid the heavens your fune