Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd2; And held in idle price to haunt assemblies, you Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps 3. (A man of stricture and firm abstinence), Duke. We have strict statutes and most biting laws, (The needful bits and curbs for headstrong steeds), Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep; Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave, That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond fathers, Becomes more mock'd than fear'd: so our decrees, The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Fri. It rested in your grace To unloose this tied-up justice, when you pleas'd: And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd, Than in Lord Angelo. Duke. I do fear, too dreadful: Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, "Twould be my tyranny to strike, and gall them For what I bid them do: For we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their permissive pass, 2 i. e. retired. 3 Bravery is showy dress. Keeps, i. e. resides. And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father, I have on Angelo impos'd the office; Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, And yet my nature never in the sight, To do it slander: And to behold his sway, I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, Is more to bread than stone: Hence shall we see, SCENE V. A Nunnery. Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA. [Exeunt. Isab. And have you nuns no further privileges? Fran. Are not these large enough? Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more; But rather wishing a more strict restraint [Within.] Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare. Turn When But in the presence of the prioress: Then, if you speak, you must not show 5 i. e. on his defence. your face; Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. He calls again; I pray you, answer him. [Exit FRANCISCA. Isab. Peace and prosperity! Who is 't that calls? Enter LUCIO. Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be; as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me, As bring me to the sight of Isabella, A novice of this place, and the fair sister Isab. Why her unhappy brother? let me ask; Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you: Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. Isab. Woe me! For what? Lucio. For that, which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks: He hath got his friend with child. Isab. Sir, mock me not:-your story1. Lucio. "Tis true, I would not,-though 'tis my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing2, and to jest, 1 The old copy reads: 'Sir, make me not your story.' The emendation is Mr. Malone's. 2 This bird is said to draw pursuers from her nest by crying in other places. This was formerly the subject of a proverb, 'The lapwing cries most, farthest from her nest,' i. e. tongue far from heart. So, in The Comedy of Errors: Adr. Far from her nest the lapwing cries away; My heart prays for him, though my tongue do curse.' And to be talked with in sincerity, As with a saint. Isab. You do blaspheme the good, in mocking me. Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth3, 'tis thus: Your brother and his lover4 have embrac'd: As those that feed grow full; as blossoming time, Isab. Some one with child by him?-My cousin Lucio. Is she your cousin? Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names, By vain though apt affection. Lucio. She it is. Isab. O let him marry her! Lucio. This is the point. The duke is very strangely gone from hence; Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand, and hope of action: but we do learn By those that know the very nerves of state, His givings out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. Upon his place, And with full line of his authority, Governs Lord Angelo; a man, whose blood Is very snow-broth; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense; 3 Fewness and truth, in few and true words. 4 i. e. his mistress. 5 Teeming foison is abundant produce. 6 Tilth is tillage. So in Shakspeare's third Sonnet: 7 Full line, extent. But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge Which have, for long, run by the hideous law, Isab. Doth he so seek his life? Lucio. prayer Has censur'd 11 him Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution. Isab. Alas! what poor ability's in me To do him good? Lucio. Assay the power you have. Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, As they themselves would owe 12 them. 8 To rebate is to make dull: Aciem ferri hebetare.-Baret. 9 i. e. to intimidate use, or practices long countenanced by custom. 10 i. e. power of gaining favour. 11 To censure is to judge. This is the poet's general meaning for the word, but the editors have given him several others. Here they interpret it censured, sentenced. We have it again in the next scene: "When I that censure him do so offend, Let mine own judgment pattern out my death.' 12 To owe is to have, to possess. |