Act V. Scene II.


Windsor Park.
   
 
Enter PAGE, SHALLOW, and SLENDER.
   
  Page.  Come, come; we’ll couch i’ the castleditch till we see the light of our fairies. Remember, son Slender, my daughter.   
  Slen.  Ay, forsooth; I have spoke with her and we have a nayword how to know one another. I come to her in white, and cry, ‘mum;’ she cries, ‘budget;’ and by that we know one another.      4
  Shal.  That’s good too: but what needs either your ‘mum,’ or her ‘budget?’ the white will decipher her well enough. It hath struck ten o’clock.   
  Page.  The night is dark; light and spirits will become it well. Heaven prosper our sport! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let’s away; follow me.  [Exeunt.

Act V. Scene III.


The Street in Windsor.
   
 
Enter MISTRESS PAGE, MISTRESS FORD, and DR. CAIUS.
   
  Mrs. Page.  Master Doctor, my daughter is in green: when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly. Go before into the Park: we two must go together.   
  Caius.  I know vat I have to do. Adieu.      4
  Mrs. Page.  Fare you well, sir. [Exit CAIUS.] My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Falstaff, as he will chafe at the doctor’s marrying my daughter: but ’tis no matter; better a little chiding than a great deal of heart break.   
  Mrs. Ford.  Where is Nan now and her troop of fairies, and the Welsh devil, Hugh?   
  Mrs. Page.  They are all couched in a pit hard by Herne’s oak, with obscured lights; which, at the very instant of Falstaff’s and our meeting, they will at once display to the night.   
  Mrs. Ford.  That cannot choose but amaze him.      8
  Mrs. Page.  If he be not amazed, he will be mocked; if he be amazed, he will every way be mocked.   
  Mrs. Ford.  We’ll betray him finely.   
  Mrs. Page.  Against such lewdsters and their lechery,   
Those that betray them do no treachery.     12
  Mrs. Ford.  The hour draws on: to the oak, to the oak!  [Exeunt.

Act V. Scene IV.


Windsor Park.
   
 
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS, disguised, and others as Fairies.
   
  Eva.  Trib, trib, fairies: come; and remember your parts. Be pold, I pray you; follow me into the pit, and when I give the watch-ords, do as I pid you. Come, come; trib, trib.  [Exeunt.

Act V. Scene V.


Another part of the Park.
   
 
Enter FALSTAFF disguised as Herne, with a buck’s head on.
   
  Fal.  The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the minute draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me! Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa; love set on thy horns. O powerful love! that, in some respects, makes a beast a man; in some other, a man a beast. You were also, Jupiter, a swan for the love of Leda; O omnipotent love! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose! A fault done first in the form of a beast; O Jove, a beastly fault! and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl: think on ’t, Jove; a foul fault! When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do? For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, i’ the forest: send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow? Who comes here? my doe?   
 
Enter MISTRESS FORD and MISTRESS PAGE.
      4
  Mrs. Ford.  Sir John! art thou there, my deer? my male deer?   
  Fal.  My doe with the black scut! Let the sky rain potatoes; let it thunder to the tune of ‘Green Sleeves;’ hail kissing-comfits and snow eringoes; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here.  [Embracing her.   
  Mrs. Ford.  Mistress Page is come with me, sweetheart.   
  Fal.  Divide me like a brib’d buck, each a haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am I a woodman, ha? Speak I like Herne the hunter? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience; he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome!  [Noise within.      8
  Mrs. Page.  Alas! what noise?   
  Mrs. Ford.  Heaven forgive our sins!   
  Fal.  What should this be?   
  Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Page.  Away, away!  [They run off.     12
  Fal.  I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that is in me should set hell on fire; he would never else cross me thus.   
 
Enter SIR HUGH EVANS, like a Satyr; PISTOL as Hobgoblin; ANNE PAGE, as the Fairy Queen, attended by her Brother and Others, as Fairies, with waxen tapers on their heads.
   
  Anne.  Fairies, black, grey, green, and white,   
You moonshine revellers, and shades of night,     16
You orphan heirs of fixed destiny,   
Attend your office and your quality.   
Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy oyes.   
  Pist.  Elves, list your names: silence, you airy toys!     20
Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap:   
Where fires thou find’st unrak’d and hearths unswept,   
There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry:   
Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery.     24
  Fal.  They are fairies; he that speaks to them shall die:   
I’ll wink and couch: no man their works must eye.  [Lies down upon his face.   
  Eva.  Where’s Bede? Go you, and where you find a maid   
That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said,     28
Rein up the organs of her fantasy,   
Sleep she as sound as careless infancy;   
But those that sleep and think not on their sins,   
Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, and shins.     32
  Anne.  About, about!   
Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out:   
Strew good luck, ouphs, on every sacred room,   
That it may stand till the perpetual doom,     36
In state as wholesome as in state ’tis fit,   
Worthy the owner, and the owner it.   
The several chairs of order look you scour   
With juice of balm and every precious flower:     40
Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest,   
With loyal blazon, ever more be blest!   
And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing,   
Like to the Garter’s compass, in a ring:     44
The expressure that it bears, green let it be,   
More fertile-fresh than all the field to see;   
And, Honi soit qui mal y pense write   
In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white;     48
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery,   
Buckled below fair knighthood’s bending knee:   
Fairies use flowers for their charactery.   
Away! disperse! But, till ’tis one o’clock,     52
Our dance of custom round about the oak   
Of Herne the hunter, let us not forget.   
  Eva.  Pray you, lock hand in hand; yourselves in order set;   
And twenty glow-worms shall our lanthorns be,     56
To guide our measure round about the tree.   
But, stay; I smell a man of middle-earth.   
  Fal.  Heavens defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!   
  Pist.  Vile worm, thou wast o’erlook’d even in thy birth.     60
  Anne.  With trial-fire touch me his finger-end:   
If he be chaste, the flame will back descend   
And turn him to no pain; but if he start,   
It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.     64
  Pist.  A trial! come.   
  Eva.        Come, will this wood take fire?  [They burn him with their tapers.   
  Fal.  Oh, oh, oh!   
  Anne.  Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire!     68
About him, fairies, sing a scornful rime;   
And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time.   
 
           
SONG.

Fie on sinful fantasy!
   Fie on lust and luxury!
   Lust is but a bloody fire,
   Kindled with unchaste desire,
   Fed in heart, whose flames aspire,
   As thoughts do blow them higher and higher.
   Pinch him, fairies, mutually;
   Pinch him for his villany;
   Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him about,
   Till candles and star-light and moonshine be out.
   
 
During this song, the Fairies pinch FALSTAFF. DOCTOR CAIUS comes one way, and steals away a Fairy in green; SLENDER another way, and takes off a Fairy in white; and FENTON comes, and steals away ANNE PAGE. A noise of hunting is heard within. The Fairies run away. FALSTAFF pulls off his buck’s head, and rises.
     72
 
Enter PAGE, FORD, MISTRESS PAGE and MISTRESS FORD. They lay hold on FALSTAFF.
   
  Page.  Nay, do not fly: I think we have watch’d you now:   
Will none but Herne the hunter serve your turn?   
  Mrs. Page.  I pray you, come, hold up the jest no higher.     76
Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives?   
See you these, husband? do not these fair yokes   
Become the forest better than the town?   
  Ford.  Now sir, who’s a cuckold now? Master Brook, Falstaff’s a knave, a cuckoldly knave; here are his horns, Master Brook: and, Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford’s but his buck-basket, his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money, which must be paid too, Master Brook; his horses are arrested for it, Master Brook.     80
  Mrs. Ford.  Sir John, we have had ill luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer.   
  Fal.  I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.   
  Ford.  Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are extant.   
  Fal.  And these are not fairies? I was three or four times in the thought they were not fairies; and yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a received belief, in despite of the teeth of all rime and reason, that they were fairies. See now how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent, when ’tis upon ill employment!     84
  Eva.  Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you.   
  Ford.  Well said, fairy Hugh.   
  Eva.  And leave you your jealousies too, I pray you.   
  Ford.  I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou art able to woo her in good English.     88
  Fal.  Have I laid my brain in the sun and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o’er-reaching as this? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too? shall I have a coxcomb of frize? ’Tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese.   
  Eva.  Seese is not goot to give putter: your pelly is all putter.   
  Fal.   ‘Seese’ and ‘putter!’ have I lived to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late walking through the realm.   
  Mrs. Page.  Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight?     92
  Ford.  What, a hodge-pudding? a bag of flax?   
  Mrs. Page.  A puffed man?   
  Page.  Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable entrails?   
  Ford.  And one that is as slanderous as Satan?     96
  Page.  And as poor as Job?   
  Ford.  And as wicked as his wife?   
  Eva.  And given to fornications, and to taverns, and sack and wine and metheglins, and to drinkings and swearings and starings, pribbles and prabbles?   
  Fal.  Well, I am your theme: you have the start of me; I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh flannel. Ignorance itself is a plummet o’er me: use me as you will.    100
  Ford.  Marry, sir, we’ll bring you to Windsor, to one Master Brook, that you have cozened of money, to whom you should have been a pander: over and above that you have suffered, I think, to repay that money will be a biting affliction.   
  Mrs. Ford.  Nay, husband, let that go to make amends;   
Forgive that sum, and so we’ll all be friends.   
  Ford.  Well, here’s my hand: all is forgiven at last.    104
  Page.  Yet be cheerful, knight: thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house; where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee. Tell her, Master Slender hath married her daughter.   
  Mrs. Page.  [Aside.] Doctors doubt that: if Anne Page be my daughter, she is, by this Doctor Caius’ wife.   
 
Enter SLENDER.
   
  Slen.  Whoa, ho! ho! father Page!    108
  Page.  Son, how now! how now, son! have you dispatched?   
  Slen.  Dispatched! I’ll make the best in Gloster-shire know on’t; would I were hanged, la, else!   
  Page.  Of what, son?   
  Slen.  I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and she’s a great lubberly boy: if it had not been i’ the church, I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir! and ’tis a postmaster’s boy.    112
  Page.  Upon my life, then, you took the wrong.   
  Slen.  What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl. If I had been married to him, for all he was in woman’s apparel, I would not have had him.   
  Page.  Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter by her garments?   
  Slen.  I went to her in white, and cried, ‘mum,’ and she cried ‘budget,’ as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a postmaster’s boy.    116
  Eva.  Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you see put marry poys?   
  Page.  O I am vexed at heart: what shall I do?   
  Mrs. Page.  Good George, be not angry: I knew of your purpose; turned my daughter into green; and, indeed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married.   
 
Enter DOCTOR CAIUS.
    120
  Caius.  Vere is Mistress Page? By gar, I am cozened: I ha’ married un garçon, a boy; un paysan, by gar, a boy; it is not Anne Page: by gar, I am cozened.   
  Mrs. Page.  Why, did you not take her in green?   
  Caius.  Ay, by gar, and ’tis a boy: by gar, I’ll raise all Windsor.  [Exit.   
  Ford.  This is strange. Who hath got the right Anne?    124
  Page.  My heart misgives me: here comes Master Fenton.   
 
Enter FENTON and ANNE PAGE.
   
How now, Master Fenton!   
  Anne.  Pardon, good father! good my mother, pardon!    128
  Page.  Now, mistress, how chance you went not with Master Slender?   
  Mrs. Page.  Why went you not with Master Doctor, maid?   
  Fent.  You do amaze her: hear the truth of it.   
You would have married her most shamefully,    132
Where there was no proportion held in love.   
The truth is, she and I, long since contracted,   
Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us.   
The offence is holy that she hath committed,    136
And this deceit loses the name of craft,   
Of disobedience, or unduteous title,   
Since therein she doth evitate and shun   
A thousand irreligious cursed hours,    140
Which forced marriage would have brought upon her.   
  Ford.  Stand not amaz’d: here is no remedy:   
In love the heavens themselves do guide the state:   
Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.    144
  Fal.  I am glad, though you have ta’en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.   
  Page.  Well, what remedy?—Fenton, heaven give thee joy!   
What cannot be eschew’d must be embrac’d.   
  Fal.  When night dogs run all sorts of deer are chas’d.    148
  Mrs. Page.  Well, I will muse no further. Master Fenton,   
Heaven give you many, many merry days!   
Good husband, let us every one go home,   
And laugh this sport o’er by a country fire;    152
Sir John and all.   
  Ford.        Let it be so. Sir John,   
To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word;   
For he to-night shall lie with Mistress Ford.  [Exeunt.    156

Act I. Scene I.


An Apartment in the DUKE’S Palace.
   
 
Enter DUKE, ESCALUS, Lords, and Attendants.
   
  Duke.  Escalus.   
  Escal.  My lord?      4
  Duke.  Of government the properties to unfold,   
Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse,   
Since I am put to know that your own science   
Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice      8
My strength can give you: then no more remains,   
But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able,   
And let them work. The nature of our people,   
Our city’s institutions, and the terms     12
For common justice, you’re as pregnant in,   
As art and practice hath enriched any   
That we remember. There is our commission,  [Giving it.   
From which we would not have you warp. Call hither,     16
I say, bid come before us Angelo.  [Exit an Attendant.   
What figure of us think you he will bear?   
For you must know, we have with special soul   
Elected him our absence to supply,     20
Lent him our terror, drest him with our love,   
And given his deputation all the organs   
Of our own power: what think you of it?   
  Escal.  If any in Vienna be of worth     24
To undergo such ample grace and honour,   
It is Lord Angelo.   
  Duke.        Look where he comes.   
 
Enter ANGELO.
     28
  Ang.  Always obedient to your Grace’s will,   
I come to know your pleasure.   
  Duke.        Angelo,   
There is a kind of character in thy life,     32
That, to th’ observer doth thy history   
Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings   
Are not thine own so proper, as to waste   
Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.     36
Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,   
Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues   
Did not go forth of us, ’twere all alike   
As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch’d     40
But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends   
The smallest scruple of her excellence,   
But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines   
Herself the glory of a creditor,     44
Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech   
To one that can my part in him advertise;   
Hold, therefore, Angelo:  [Tendering his commission.   
In our remove be thou at full ourself;     48
Mortality and mercy in Vienna   
Live in thy tongue and heart. Old Escalus,   
Though first in question, is thy secondary.   
Take thy commission.  [Giving it.     52
  Ang.        Now, good my lord,   
Let there be some more test made of my metal,   
Before so noble and so great a figure   
Be stamp’d upon it.     56
  Duke.        No more evasion:   
We have with a leaven’d and prepared choice   
Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours.   
Our haste from hence is of so quick condition     60
That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion’d   
Matters of needful value. We shall write to you,   
As time and our concernings shall importune,   
How it goes with us; and do look to know     64
What doth befall you here. So, fare you well:   
To the hopeful execution do I leave you   
Of your commissions.   
  Ang.        Yet, give leave, my lord,     68
That we may bring you something on the way.   
  Duke.  My haste may not admit it;   
Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do   
With any scruple: your scope is as mine own,     72
So to enforce or qualify the laws   
As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand;   
I’ll privily away: I love the people,   
But do not like to stage me to their eyes.     76
Though it do well, I do not relish well   
Their loud applause and Aves vehement,   
Nor do I think the man of safe discretion   
That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.     80
  Ang.  The heavens give safety to your purposes!   
  Escal.  Lead forth and bring you back in happiness!   
  Duke.  I thank you. Fare you well.  [Exit.   
  Escal.  I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave     84
To have free speech with you; and it concerns me   
To look into the bottom of my place:   
A power I have, but of what strength and nature   
I am not yet instructed.     88
  Ang.  ’Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together,   
And we may soon our satisfaction have   
Touching that point.   
  Escal.        I’ll wait upon your honour.  [Exeunt.     92

Act I. Scene II.


A Street.
   
 
Enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen.
   
  Lucio.  If the Duke with the other dukes come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then, all the dukes fall upon the king.   
  First Gent.  Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of Hungary’s!      4
  Second Gent.  Amen.   
  Lucio.  Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pirate, that went to sea with the Ten Commandments, but scraped one out of the table.   
  Second Gent.  ‘Thou shalt not steal?’   
  Lucio.  Ay, that he razed.      8
  First Gent.  Why, ’twas a commandment to command the captain and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steal. There’s not a soldier of us all, that, in the thanksgiving before meat, doth relish the petition well that prays for peace.   
  Second Gent.  I never heard any soldier dislike it.   
  Lucio.  I believe thee, for I think thou never wast where grace was said.   
  Second Gent.  No? a dozen times at least.     12
  First Gent.  What, in metre?   
  Lucio.  In any proportion or in any language.   
  First Gent.  I think, or in any religion.   
  Lucio.  Ay; why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy: as, for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all grace.     16
  First Gent.  Well, there went but a pair of shears between us.   
  Lucio.  I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet: thou art the list.   
  First Gent.  And thou the velvet: thou art good velvet; thou art a three-piled piece, I warrant thee. I had as lief be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak feelingly now?   
  Lucio.  I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee.     20
  First Gent.  I think I have done myself wrong, have I not?   
  Second Gent.  Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free.   
  Lucio.  Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes! I have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to—   
  Second Gent.  To what, I pray?     24
  Lucio.  Judge.   
  Second Gent.  To three thousand dolours a year.   
  First Gent.  Ay, and more.   
  Lucio.  A French crown more.     28
  First Gent.  Thou art always figuring diseases in me; but thou art full of error: I am sound.   
  Lucio.  Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast of thee.   
 
Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE.
   
  First Gent.  How now! which of your hips has the most profound sciatica?     32
  Mrs. Ov.  Well, well; there’s one yonder arrested and carried to prison was worth five thousand of you all.   
  Second Gent.  Who’s that, I pray thee?   
  Mrs. Ov.  Marry, sir, that’s Claudio, Signior Claudio.   
  First Gent.  Claudio to prison! ’tis not so.     36
  Mrs. Ov.  Nay, but I know ’tis so: I saw him arrested; saw him carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his head to be chopped off.   
  Lucio.  But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. Art thou sure of this?   
  Mrs. Ov.  I am too sure of it; and it is for getting Madam Julietta with child.   
  Lucio.  Believe me, this may be: he promised to meet me two hours since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping.     40
  Second Gent.  Besides, you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose.   
  First Gent.  But most of all, agreeing with the proclamation.   
  Lucio.  Away! let’s go learn the truth of it.  [Exeunt LUCIO and Gentlemen.   
  Mrs. Ov.  Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk.     44
 
Enter POMPEY.
   
How now! what’s the news with you?   
  Pom.  Yonder man is carried to prison.   
  Mrs. Ov.  Well: what has he done?     48
  Pom.  A woman.   
  Mrs. Ov.  But what’s his offence?   
  Pom.  Groping for trouts in a peculiar river.   
  Mrs. Ov.  What, is there a maid with child by him?     52
  Pom.  No; but there’s a woman with maid by him. You have not heard of the proclamation, have you?   
  Mrs. Ov.  What proclamation, man?   
  Pom.  All houses of resort in the suburbs of Vienna must be plucked down.   
  Mrs. Ov.  And what shall become of those in the city?     56
  Pom.  They shall stand for seed: they had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them.   
  Mrs. Ov.  But shall all our houses of resort in the suburbs be pulled down?   
  Pom.  To the ground, mistress.   
  Mrs. Ov.  Why, here’s a change indeed in the commonwealth! What shall become of me?     60
  Pom.  Come; fear not you: good counsellors lack no clients: though you change your place, you need not change your trade; I’ll be your tapster still. Courage! there will be pity taken on you; you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will be considered.   
  Mrs. Ov.  What’s to do here, Thomas tapster? Let’s withdraw.   
  Pom.  Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to prison; and there’s Madam Juliet.  [Exeunt.   
 
Enter PROVOST, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and Officers.
     64
  Claud.  Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world?   
Bear me to prison, where I am committed.   
  Prov.  I do it not in evil disposition,   
But from Lord Angelo by special charge.     68
  Claud.  Thus can the demi-god Authority   
Make us pay down for our offence’ by weight.   
The words of heaven; on whom it will, it will;   
On whom it will not, so: yet still ’tis just.     72
 
Re-enter LUCIO and two Gentlemen.
   
  Lucio.  Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint?   
  Claud.  From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty:   
As surfeit is the father of much fast,     76
So every scope by the immoderate use   
Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue—   
Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,—   
A thirsty evil, and when we drink we die.     80
  Lucio.  If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors. And yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment. What’s thy offence, Claudio?   
  Claud.  What but to speak of would offend again.   
  Lucio.  What, is ’t murder?   
  Claud.  No.     84
  Lucio.  Lechery?   
  Claud.  Call it so.   
  Prov.  Away, sir! you must go.   
  Claud.  One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you.  [Takes him aside.     88
  Lucio.  A hundred, if they’ll do you any good.   
Is lechery so looked after?   
  Claud.  Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract   
I got possession of Julietta’s bed:     92
You know the lady; she is fast my wife,   
Save that we do the denunciation lack   
Of outward order: this we came not to,   
Only for propagation of a dower     96
Remaining in the coffer of her friends,   
From whom we thought it meet to hide our love   
Till time had made them for us. But it chances   
The stealth of our most mutual entertainment    100
With character too gross is writ on Juliet.   
  Lucio.  With child, perhaps?   
  Claud.        Unhappily, even so.   
And the new deputy now for the duke,—    104
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness,   
Or whether that the body public be   
A horse whereon the governor doth ride,   
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know    108
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;   
Whether the tyranny be in his place,   
Or in his eminence that fills it up,   
I stagger in:—but this new governor    112
Awakes me all the enrolled penalties   
Which have, like unscour’d armour, hung by the wall   
So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round,   
And none of them been worn; and, for a name,    116
Now puts the drowsy and neglected act   
Freshly on me: ’tis surely for a name.   
  Lucio.  I warrant it is: and thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke and appeal to him.   
  Claud.  I have done so, but he’s not to be found.    120
I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service.   
This day my sister should the cloister enter,   
And there receive her approbation:   
Acquaint her with the danger of my state;    124
Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends   
To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him:   
I have great hope in that; for in her youth   
There is a prone and speechless dialect,    128
Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art   
When she will play with reason and discourse,   
And well she can persuade.   
  Lucio.  I pray she may: as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I’ll to her.    132
  Claud.  I thank you, good friend Lucio.   
  Lucio.  Within two hours.   
  Claud.         Come, officer, away!  [Exeunt.

Act I. Scene III.


A Monastery
   
 
Enter DUKE and FRIAR THOMAS.
   
  Duke.  No, holy father; throw away that thought:   
Believe not that the dribbling dart of love      4
Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee   
To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose   
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends   
Of burning youth.      8
  Fri. T.        May your Grace speak of it?   
  Duke.  My holy sir, none better knows than you   
How I have ever lov’d the life remov’d,   
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies     12
Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.   
I have deliver’d to Lord Angelo—   
A man of stricture and firm abstinence—   
My absolute power and place here in Vienna,     16
And he supposes me travell’d to Poland;   
For so I have strew’d it in the common ear,   
And so it is receiv’d. Now, pious sir,   
You will demand of me why I do this?     20
  Fri. T.  Gladly, my lord.   
  Duke.  We have strict statutes and most biting laws,—   
The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds,—   
Which for this fourteen years we have let sleep;     24
Even like an o’ergrown lion in a cave,   
That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,   
Having bound up the threat’ning twigs of birch,   
Only to stick it in their children’s sight     28
For terror, not to use, in time the rod   
Becomes more mock’d than fear’d; so our decrees,   
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead,   
And liberty plucks justice by the nose;     32
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart   
Goes all decorum.   
  Fri. T.        It rested in your Grace   
T’ unloose this tied-up justice when you pleas’d;     36
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,     40
’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   
And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father,     44
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,     48
I will, as ’twere a brother of your order,   
Visit both prince and people: therefore, I prithee,   
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me   
How I may formally in person bear me     52
Like a true friar. Moe reasons for this action   
At our more leisure shall I render you;   
Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise;   
Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses     56
That his blood flows, or that his appetite   
Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see,   
If power change purpose, what our seemers be.  [Exeunt.   

Act I. Scene IV.


A Nunnery.
   
 
Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA.
   
  Isab.  And have you nuns no further privileges?   
  Fran.  Are not these large enough?      4
  Isab.  Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more,   
But rather wishing a more strict restraint   
Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.   
  Lucio.  [Within.] Ho! Peace be in this place!      8
  Isab.        Who’s that which calls?   
  Fran.  It is a man’s voice. Gentle Isabella,   
Turn you the key, and know his business of him:   
You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn.     12
When you have vow’d, you must not speak with men   
But in the presence of the prioress:   
Then, if you speak, you must not show your face,   
Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.     16
He calls again; I pray you, answer him.  [Exit.   
  Isab.  Peace and Prosperity! Who is’t that calls?   
 
Enter LUCIO.
   
  Lucio.  Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheekroses     20
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   
To her unhappy brother Claudio?     24
  Isab.   Why ‘her unhappy brother?’ let me ask;   
The rather for I now must make you know   
I am that Isabella and his sister.   
  Lucio.  Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you:     28
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:     32
He hath got his friend with child.   
  Isab.  Sir, make me not your story.   
  Lucio.        It is true.   
I would not, though ’tis my familiar sin     36
With maids to seem the lapwing and to jest,   
Tongue far from heart, play with all virgins so:   
I hold you as a thing ensky’d and sainted;   
By your renouncement an immortal spirit,     40
And to be talk’d with in sincerity,   
As with a saint.   
  Isab.  You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.   
  Lucio.  Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, ’tis thus:     44
Your brother and his lover have embrac’d:   
As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time   
That from the seedness the bare fallow brings   
To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb     48
Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.   
  Isab.  Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet?   
  Lucio.  Is she your cousin?   
  Isab.  Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names     52
By vain, though apt affection.   
  Lucio.        She it is.   
  Isab.  O! let him marry her.   
  Lucio.        This is the point.     56
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,     60
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     64
Is very snow-broth; one who never feels   
The wanton stings and motions of the sense,   
But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge   
With profits of the mind, study and fast.     68
He,—to give fear to use and liberty,   
Which have for long run by the hideous law,   
As mice by lions, hath pick’d out an act,   
Under whose heavy sense your brother’s life     72
Falls into forfeit: he arrests him on it,   
And follows close the rigour of the statute,   
To make him an example. All hope is gone,   
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer     76
To soften Angelo; and that’s my pith of business   
Twixt you and your poor brother.   
  Isab.  Doth he so seek his life?   
  Lucio.        He’s censur’d him     80
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?     84
  Lucio.        Assay the power you have.   
  Isab.  My power? alas! I doubt—   
  Lucio.        Our doubts are traitors,   
And make us lose the good we oft might win,     88
By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo,   
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue,   
Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,   
All their petitions are as freely theirs     92
As they themselves would owe them.   
  Isab.  I’ll see what I can do.   
  Lucio.        But speedily.   
  Isab.  I will about it straight;     96
No longer staying but to give the Mother   
Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you:   
Commend me to my brother; soon at night   
I’ll send him certain word of my success.    100
  Lucio.  I take my leave of you.   
  Isab.        Good sir, adieu.  [Exeunt.

Act II. Scene I.


A Hall in ANGELO’S House.
   
 
Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, a Justice, PROVOST, Officers, and other Attendants.
   
  Ang.  We must not make a scarecrow of the law,   
Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,      4
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it   
Their perch and not their terror.   
  Escal.        Ay, but yet   
Let us be keen and rather cut a little,      8
Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas! this gentleman,   
Whom I would save, had a most noble father.   
Let but your honour know,—   
Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,—     12
That, in the working of your own affections,   
Had time coher’d with place or place with wishing,   
Or that the resolute acting of your blood   
Could have attain’d the effect of your own purpose,     16
Whether you had not, some time in your life,   
Err’d in this point which now you censure him,   
And pull’d the law upon you.   
  Ang.  ’Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,     20
Another thing to fall. I not deny,   
The jury, passing on the prisoner’s life,   
May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two   
Guiltier than him they try; what’s open made to justice,     24
That justice seizes: what know the laws   
That thieves do pass on thieves? ’Tis very pregnant,   
The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it   
Because we see it; but what we do not see     28
We tread upon, and never think of it.   
You may not so extenuate his offence   
For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,   
When I, that censure him, do so offend,     32
Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,   
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.   
  Escal.  Be it as your wisdom will.   
  Ang.        Where is the provost?     36
  Prov.  Here, if it like your honour.   
  Ang.        See that Claudio   
Be executed by nine to-morrow morning:   
Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar’d;     40
For that’s the utmost of his pilgrimage.  [Exit PROVOST.   
  Escal.  Well, heaven forgive him, and forgive us all!   
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:   
Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none,     44
And some condemned for a fault alone.   
 
Enter ELBOW and Officers, with FROTH and POMPEY.
   
  Elb.  Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a common-weal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them away.   
  Ang.  How now, sir! What’s your name, and what’s the matter?     48
  Elb.  If it please your honour, I am the poor duke’s constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon justice, sir; and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors.   
  Ang.  Benefactors! Well; what benefactors are they? are they not malefactors?   
  Elb.  If it please your honour, I know not well what they are; but precise villains they are, that I am sure of, and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have.   
  Escal.  This comes off well: here’s a wise officer.     52
  Ang.  Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is your name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow?   
  Pom.  He cannot, sir: he’s out at elbow.   
  Ang.  What are you, sir?   
  Elb.  He, sir! a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad woman, whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too.     56
  Escal.  How know you that?   
  Elb.  My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,—   
  Escal.  How! thy wife?   
  Elb.  Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,—     60
  Escal.  Dost thou detest her therefore?   
  Elb.  I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd’s house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.   
  Escal.  How dost thou know that, constable?   
  Elb.  Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there.     64
  Escal.  By the woman’s means?   
  Elb.  Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone’s means; but as she spit in his face, so she defied him.   
  Pom.  Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.   
  Elb.  Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man, prove it.     68
  Escal.  [To ANGELO.] Do you hear how he misplaces?   
  Pom.  Sir, she came in, great with child, and longing,—saving your honour’s reverence,—for stewed prunes. Sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes.   
  Escal.  Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir.   
  Pom.  No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for prunes, and having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you three-pence again.     72
  Froth.  No, indeed.   
  Pom.  Very well: you being then, if you be remembered, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes,—   
  Froth.  Ay, so I did, indeed.   
  Pom.  Why, very well: I telling you then, if you be remembered, that such a one and such a one were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you,—     76
  Froth.  All this is true.   
  Pom.  Why, very well then.—   
  Escal.  Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What was done to Elbow’s wife, that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her.   
  Pom.  Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.     80
  Escal.  No, sir, nor I mean it not.   
  Pom.  Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour’s leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year, whose father died at Hallowmas. Was’t not at Hallowmas, Master Froth?   
  Froth.  All-hallownd eve.   
  Pom.  Why, very well: I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; ’twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed, you have a delight to sit, have you not?     84
  Froth.  I have so, because it is an open room and good for winter.   
  Pom.  Why, very well then: I hope here be truths.   
  Ang.  This will last out a night in Russia,   
When nights are longest there: I’ll take my leave,     88
And leave you to the hearing of the cause,   
Hoping you’ll find good cause to whip them all.   
  Escal.  I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship.  [Exit ANGELO.   
Now, sir, come on: what was done to Elbow’s wife, once more?     92
  Pom.  Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once.   
  Elb.  I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.   
  Pom.  I beseech your honour, ask me.   
  Escal.  Well, sir, what did this gentleman to her?     96
  Pom.  I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman’s face. Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; ’tis for a good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face?   
  Escal.  Ay, sir, very well.   
  Pom.  Nay, I beseech you, mark it well.   
  Escal.  Well, I do so.    100
  Pom.  Doth your honour see any harm in his face?   
  Escal.  Why, no.   
  Pom.  I’ll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the constable’s wife any harm? I would know that of your honour.   
  Escal.  He’s in the right. Constable, what say you to it?    104
  Elb.  First, an’ it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow, and his mistress is a respected woman.   
  Pom.  By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all.   
  Elb.  Varlet, thou liest: thou liest, wicked varlet. The time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.   
  Pom.  Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.    108
  Escal.  Which is the wiser here? Justice, or Iniquity? Is this true?   
  Elb.  O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married to her? If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke’s officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I’ll have mine action of battery on thee.   
  Escal.  If he took you a box o’ th’ ear, you might have your action of slander too.   
  Elb.  Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What is’t your worship’s pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff?    112
  Escal.  Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldest discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou knowest what they are.   
  Elb.  Marry, I thank your worship for it. Thou seest, thou wicked varlet, now, what’s come upon thee: thou art to continue now, thou varlet, thou art to continue.   
  Escal.  Where were you born, friend?   
  Froth.  Here in Vienna, sir.    116
  Escal.  Are you of fourscore pounds a year?   
  Froth.  Yes, an’t please you, sir.   
  Escal.  So. [To POMPEY.] What trade are you of, sir?   
  Pom.  A tapster; a poor widow’s tapster.    120
  Escal.  Your mistress’ name?   
  Pom.  Mistress Overdone.   
  Escal.  Hath she had any more than one husband?   
  Pom.  Nine, sir; Overdone by the last.    124
  Escal.  Nine!—Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters; they will draw you, Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you.   
  Froth.  I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am drawn in.   
  Escal.  Well: no more of it, Master Froth: farewell. [Exit FROTH.]—Come you hither to me, Master tapster. What’s your name, Master tapster?   
  Pom.  Pompey.    128
  Escal.  What else?   
  Pom.  Bum, sir.   
  Escal.  Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you, so that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you not? come, tell me true: it shall be the better for you.   
  Pom.  Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live.    132
  Escal.  How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade?   
  Pom.  If the law would allow it, sir.   
  Escal.  But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.   
  Pom.  Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city?    136
  Escal.  No, Pompey.   
  Pom.  Truly, sir, in my humble opinion, they will to’t then. If your worship will take order 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.   
  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 threepence a bay. If you live to see this come to pass, say, Pompey told you so.    140
  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’s not whipt out of his trade.  [Exit.    144
  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.    148
  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?    152
  Escal.  To my house. Fare you well.  [Exit ELBOW.   
What’s o’clock, think you?   
  Just.  Eleven, sir.   
  Escal.  I pray you home to dinner with me.    156
  Just.  I humbly thank you.   
  Escal.  It grieves me for the death of Claudio;   
But there is no remedy.   
  Just.  Lord Angelo is severe.    160
  Escal.        It is but needful:   
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;   
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe.   
But yet, poor Claudio! There’s no remedy.    164
Come, sir.  [Exeunt.   

Act II. Scene II.


Another Room in the Same.
   
 
Enter PROVOST and a Servant.
   
  Serv.  He’s hearing of a cause: he will come straight:   
I’ll tell him of you.      4
  Prov.        Pray you, do. [ExitServ.] I’ll know   
His pleasure; may be he will relent. Alas!   
He hath but as offended in a dream:   
All sects, all ages smack of this vice, and he      8
To die for it!   
 
Enter ANGELO.
   
  Ang.        Now, what’s the matter, provost?   
  Prov.  Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow?     12
  Ang.  Did I not tell thee, yea? hadst thou not order?   
Why dost thou ask again?   
  Prov.        Lest I might be too rash.   
Under your good correction, I have seen,     16
When, after execution, Judgment hath   
Repented o’er his doom.   
  Ang.        Go to; let that be mine:   
Do you your office, or give up your place,     20
And you shall well be spar’d.   
  Prov.        I crave your honour’s pardon.   
What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet?   
She’s very near her hour.     24
  Ang.        Dispose of her   
To some more fitter place; and that with speed.   
 
Re-enter Servant.
   
  Serv.  Here is the sister of the man condemn’d Desires access to you.     28
  Ang.        Hath he a sister?   
  Prov.  Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid,   
And to be shortly of a sisterhood,   
If not already.     32
  Ang.        Well, let her be admitted.  [Exit Servant.   
See you the fornicatress be remov’d:   
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;   
There shall be order for ’t.     36
 
Enter ISABELLA and LUCIO.
   
  Prov.        God save your honour!  [Offering to retire.   
  Ang.  Stay a little while.—[To ISAB.] You’re welcome: what’s your will?   
  Isab.  I am a woful suitor to your honour,     40
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,     44
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?     48
  Isab.  I have a brother is condemn’d to die:   
I do beseech you, let it be his fault,   
And not my brother.   
  Prov.        [Aside.] Heaven give thee moving graces!     52
  Ang.  Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it?   
Why, every fault’s condemn’d ere it be done.   
Mine were the very cipher of a function,   
To fine the faults whose fine stands in record,     56
And let go by the actor.   
  Isab.        O just, but severe law!   
I had a brother, then.—Heaven keep your honour!  [Retiring.   
  Lucio.  [Aside to ISAB.] Give ’t not o’er so: to him again, entreat him;     60
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;   
You are too cold; if you should need a pin,   
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it.   
To him, I say!     64
  Isab.  Must he needs die?   
  Ang.        Maiden, no remedy.   
  Isab.  Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,   
And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.     68
  Ang.  I will not do’t.   
  Isab.        But can you, if you would?   
  Ang.  Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.   
  Isab.  But might you do’t, and do the world no wrong,     72
If so your heart were touch’d with that remorse   
As mine is to him?   
  Ang.        He’s sentenc’d: ’tis too late.   
  Lucio.  [Aside to ISAB.] You are too cold.     76
  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,     80
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,     84
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,     88
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.     92
  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;     96
And He that might the vantage best have took,   
Found out the remedy. How would you be,   
If He, which is the top of judgment, should   
But judge you as you are? O! think on that,    100
And mercy then will breathe within your lips,   
Like man new made.   
  Ang.        Be you content, fair maid;   
It is the law, not I, condemn your brother:    104
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,   
It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow.   
  Isab.  To-morrow! O! that’s sudden! Spare him, spare him!   
He’s not prepar’d for death. Even for our kitchens    108
We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven   
With less respect than we do minister   
To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you:   
Who is it that hath died for this offence?    112
There’s many have committed it.   
  Lucio.        [Aside toISAB.] Ay, well said.   
  Ang.  The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept:   
Those many had not dar’d to do that evil,    116
If that the first that did th’ edict infringe   
Had answer’d for his deed: now ’tis awake,   
Takes note of what is done, and, like a prophet,   
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils,    120
Either new, or by remissness new-conceiv’d,   
And so in progress to be hatch’d and born,   
Are now to have no successive degrees,   
But, ere they live, to end.    124
  Isab.        Yet show some pity.   
  Ang.  I show it most of all when I show justice;   
For then I pity those I do not know,   
Which a dismiss’d offence would after gall,    128
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,    132
And he that suffers. O! it is excellent   
To have a giant’s strength, but it is tyrannous   
To use it like a giant.   
  Lucio.  [Aside to ISAB.] That’s well said.    136
  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.    140
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,    144
Drest in a little brief authority,   
Most ignorant of what he’s most assur’d,   
His glassy essence, like an angry ape,   
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven    148
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.    152
  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.    156
  Lucio.  [Aside to ISAB.] Thou ’rt in the right, girl: more o’ that.   
  Isab.  That in the captain’s but a choleric word,   
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.   
  Lucio.  [Aside to ISAB.] Art advis’d o’ that? more on ’t.    160
  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;    164
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    168
Against my brother’s life.   
  Ang.        She speaks, and ’tis   
Such sense that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well.   
  Isab.  Gentle my lord, turn back.    172
  Ang.  I will bethink me. Come again tomorrow.   
  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.    176
  Lucio.  [Aside to ISAB.] You had marr’d all else.   
  Isab.  Not with fond sicles of the tested gold,   
Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor   
As fancy values them; but with true prayers    180
That shall be up at heaven and enter there   
Ere sun-rise: prayers from preserved souls,   
From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate   
To nothing temporal.    184
  Ang.        Well; come to me to-morrow.   
  Lucio.  [Aside to ISAB.] Go to; ’tis well: away!   
  Isab.  Heaven keep your honour safe!   
  Ang.        [Aside.] Amen:    188
For I am that way going to temptation,   
Where prayers cross.   
  Isab.        At what hour to-morrow   
Shall I attend your lordship?    192
  Ang.        At any time ’fore noon.   
  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?    196
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?   
Ha!   
Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I,   
That, lying by the violet in the sun,    200
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,    204
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    208
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,    212
And feast upon her eyes? What is’t I dream on?   
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,   
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous   
Is that temptation that doth goad us on    216
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,    220
When men were fond, I smil’d and wonder’d how.  [Exit.