The Works of William Shakespeare

for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.

Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: it is but heading and hanging. 250 Pom. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads: if this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it after three-pence a bay: if you live to see this come to pass, say Pompey told

you so.

Escal. Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you, I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you do: if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Cæsar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

Pom. I thank your worship for your good counsel: [Aside] but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine.

Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade:
The valiant heart is not whipt out of his trade.

[Exit. 270
Escal. Come hither to me, Master Elbow;
come hither, Master constable. How long have
you been in this place of constable?
Elb. Seven year and a half, sir.
Escal. I thought, by your readiness in the
office, you had continued in it some time. You❘
say, seven years together?

Elb. And a half, sir.

Escal. Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do you wrong to put you so oft upon't: are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it?

Elb. Faith, sir, few. of, any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all.

Escal. Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. Elb. To your worship's house, sir? To my house. Fare you well. [Exit Elbow.

Escal.

What's o'clock, think you?

Just. Eleven, sir.

Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me.
Just. I humbly thank you.

290

Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio;
But there's no remedy.

Just. Lord Angelo is severe.
Escal.

Enter ISABELLA and LUCIO.

Prov.
God save your honour!
Ang. Stay a little while. [To Isab.] You're
welcome: what's your will?

Isab. I am a woeful suitor to your honour,
Please but your honour hear me.
Ang.
Well; what's your
suit?
Isab. There is a vice that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must not plead, but that I am
At war 'twixt will and will not.
Ang.

Well; the matter?
Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die:
It is but needful: I do beseech you, let it be his fault,
And not my brother.

Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:
But yet, poor Claudio! There is no remedy.
Come, sir.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. Another room in the same.

Enter PROVOST and a Servant.

300

Prov. [Aside] Heaven give thee moving graces!

Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor

of it?

Ang.

He's sentenced; 'tis too late. Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] You are too cold. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,

May call it back again. Well, believe this,
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, 60
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace
As mercy does.

If he had been as you and you as he,

You would have slipt like him; but he, like you, Would not have been so stern.

Ang. Pray you, be gone. Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Ay, touch him; there's the vein.

Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words.

Isab.

Alas, alas!
Why, all the souls that were were forfeit once;
And He that might the vantage best have took
Found out the remedy. How would you be,
If He, which is the top of judgement, should
But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,
Like man new made.

Ang.
It is the law, not I condemn your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

Be you content, fair maid;

It should be thus with him: he must die to

For then I pity those I do not know,
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;
And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;
Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Isab. So you must be the first that gives this sentence,

And he, that suffers. O, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.

IIO

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] That's well said. Isab. Could-great men thunder. As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder; Nothing but thunder ! Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority,

120

Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape;
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] O, to him, to him, wench he will relent; He's coming; I perceive't.

Prov. [Aside] Pray heaven she win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them, But in the less foul profanation.

Lucio. Thou'rt i' the right, girl; more o' that. Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word,

Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

130

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Art avised o' that? more on't.

Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me? Isab. Because authority, though it err like others,

Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth

know

That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
A natural guiltiness such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 140
Against my brother's life.
Ang.

[Aside] She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well.

Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back.

Ang. I will bethink me: come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back.

Ang. How! bribe me?

Isab. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] You had marr'd all else.

Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor 150 As fancy values them; but with true prayers That shall be up at heaven and enter there

Well; come to me to-morrow.
Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Go to; 'tis well; away!
Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe!
Ang.

[Aside] Amen:

For I am that way going to temptation,
Where prayers cross.
Isab.
At what hour to-morrow
Shall I attend your lordship?
Ang.
At any time 'fore noon. 160
Isab. 'Save your honour !
[Exeunt Isabella, Lucio, and Provost.
Ang. From thee, even from thy virtue !
What's this, what's this? Is this her fault or mine?
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
На!

Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I
That, lying by the violet in the sun,

Do as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be
That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman's.lightness? Having waste ground
enough,

170

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary
And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully for those things
That make her good? O, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority
When judges steal themselves. What, do I love
her,

That I desire to hear her speak again,
And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, 180
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation that doth goad us on

To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite. Ever till now,

When men were fond, I smiled and wonder'd
how.

[Exit.

A room in a prison.

SCENE III. Enter, severally, DUKE disguised as a friar, and PROVOST.

Duke. Hail to you, provost! so I think you are. Prov. I am the provost. What's your will, good friar?

Duke. Bound by my charity and my blest order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits

minister

Here in the prison. Do me the common right
To let me see them and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I
may
To them accordingly.
Prov. I would do more than that, if more
were needful.

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray

To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty
words;

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, 10 Could I with boot 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 art blood: Let's write good angel on the devil's horn; Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine, 10 'Tis not the devil's crest.

Enter JULIET.

Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth,
Hath blister'd her report: she is with child;
And he that got it, sentenced; a young man
More fit to do another such offence

Than die for this.

Enter a Servant.

How now! who's there? Serv. One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you.

How now, fair maid? Isab. I am come to know your pleasure. Ang. That you might know it, would much better please me

Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.

Isab. Even so. Heaven keep your honour! 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 reprieve,

Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted
That his soul sicken not.

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 soul: our compell'd sins
Stand more for number than for 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 a 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. Pleased 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. 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 desired of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-building 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 to 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'ld wear as
rubies,

And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing have been sick for, ere I'ld 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

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 destined 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 me that he shall die for it.

140

Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me
love.

Isab. I know your virtue hath a license 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 believed, And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming!

150

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 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,

160

If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing

That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,

Servile to all the skyey influences,

That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, 10
Hourly 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 the accommodations that thou bear'st
Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt 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 provokest; yet grossly fear'st
Thy 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 strivest to get,
And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not
certain;

For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou 'rt poor;

That banish what they sue for; redeem thy For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,

brother

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 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,
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
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.
Isab. [Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace
and good company!

Prov. Who's there? come in: the wish de-
serves a welcome.

Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you.

Enter ISABElla.

Isab. My business is a word or two with
Claudio.

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