ESCALUS. Good even, good father.
DUKE. Bliss and goodness on you!
ESCALUS. 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. ESCALUS. What news abroad i’ th’ 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,
as 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 accurst. 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?
ESCALUS. One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to
know himself.
DUKE. What pleasure was he given to? ESCALUS. Rather rejoicing to see another merry than merry at anything 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 prepar’d. 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 resolv’d to die.
ESCALUS. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner
the very debt of your calling. I have labour’d for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty; but my brother
justice have I found so severe that he hath forc’d me to tell him
he is indeed Justice.
DUKE. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it
shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenc’d himself.
ESCALUS. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. DUKE. Peace be with you! Exeunt ESCALUS and PROVOST
He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go; More nor less to others paying
Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him whose cruel striking
Kills for faults of his own liking! Twice treble shame on Angelo,
To weed my vice and let his grow! O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side! How may likeness, made in crimes,
Make a practice on the times,
To draw with idle spiders’ strings Most ponderous and substantial things! Craft against vice I must apply.
With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed but despised;
So disguise shall, by th’ disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting,
And perform an old contracting. Exit
Act IV. Scene I.
The moated grange at Saint Duke’s
Enter MARIANA; and BOY singing
SONG
Take, O, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn; But my kisses bring again, bring again; Seals of love, but seal’d in vain, seal’d in vain.
Enter DUKE, disguised as before
MARIANA. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away; Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often still’d my brawling discontent. Exit BOY I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish You had not found me here so musical.
Let me excuse me, and believe me so, My mirth it much displeas’d, but pleas’d my woe. DUKE. ‘Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good and good provoke to harm. I pray you tell me hath anybody inquir’d for me here to-day. Much
upon this time have I promis’d here to meet. MARIANA. You have not been inquir’d after; I have sat here all day.
Enter ISABELLA
DUKE. I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little. May be I will call upon
you anon, for some advantage to yourself. MARIANA. I am always bound to you. Exit DUKE. Very well met, and well come.
What is the news from this good deputy? ISABELLA. He hath a garden circummur’d with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back’d; And to that vineyard is a planched gate That makes his opening with this bigger key; This other doth command a little door Which from the vineyard to the garden leads. There have I made my promise
Upon the heavy middle of the night To call upon him.
DUKE. But shall you on your knowledge find this way? ISABELLA. I have ta’en a due and wary note upon’t; With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice o’er.
DUKE. Are there no other tokens
Between you ‘greed concerning her observance? ISABELLA. No, none, but only a repair i’ th’ dark; And that I have possess’d him my most stay Can be but brief; for I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along,
That stays upon me; whose persuasion is I come about my brother.
DUKE. ‘Tis well borne up.
I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this. What ho, within! come forth.
Re-enter MARIANA
I pray you be acquainted with this maid; She comes to do you good.
ISABELLA. I do desire the like.
DUKE. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? MARIANA. Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. DUKE. Take, then, this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear.
I shall attend your leisure; but make haste; The vaporous night approaches.
MARIANA. Will’t please you walk aside? Exeunt MARIANA and ISABELLA DUKE. O place and greatness! Millions of false eyes Are stuck upon thee. Volumes of report Run with these false, and most contrarious quest Upon thy doings. Thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream, And rack thee in their fancies.
Re-enter MARIANA and ISABELLA
Welcome, how agreed?
ISABELLA. She’ll take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it.
DUKE. It is not my consent,
But my entreaty too.
ISABELLA. Little have you to say,
When you depart from him, but, soft and low, ‘Remember now my brother.’
MARIANA. Fear me not.
DUKE. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a pre-contract.
To bring you thus together ’tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go; Our corn’s to reap, for yet our tithe’s to sow. Exeunt
SCENE II.
The prison
Enter PROVOST and POMPEY
PROVOST. Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man’s head? POMPEY. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a married man, he’s his wife’s head, and I can never cut of a woman’s head.
PROVOST. Come, sir, leave me your snatches and yield me a direct
answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here
is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a
helper; if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem
you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping, for
you have been a notorious bawd.
POMPEY. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind; but yet
I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instructions from my fellow partner. PROVOST. What ho, Abhorson! Where’s Abhorson there?
Enter ABHORSON
ABHORSON. Do you call, sir?
PROVOST. Sirrah, here’s a fellow will help you to-morrow in your
execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year,
and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present,
and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath
been a bawd.
ABHORSON. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him! He will discredit our mystery.
PROVOST. Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. Exit
POMPEY. Pray, sir, by your good favour- for surely, sir, a good favour you have but that you have a hanging look- do you call,
sir, your occupation a mystery?
ABHORSON. Ay, sir; a mystery.
POMPEY. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do
prove my occupation a mystery; but what mystery there should be
in hanging, if I should be hang’d, I cannot imagine. ABHORSON. Sir, it is a mystery.
POMPEY. Proof?
ABHORSON. Every true man’s apparel fits your thief: if it be too
little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it
be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough; so
every true man’s apparel fits your thief.
Re-enter PROVOST
PROVOST. Are you agreed?
POMPEY. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more
penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftener ask forgiveness.
PROVOST. You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow four o’clock.
ABHORSON. Come on, bawd; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow.
POMPEY. I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have occasion
to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; for truly,
sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn. PROVOST. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio. Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY Th’ one has my pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother.
Enter CLAUDIO
Look, here’s the warrant, Claudio, for thy death; ‘Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Where’s Barnardine? CLAUDIO. As fast lock’d up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller’s bones. He will not wake.
PROVOST. Who can do good on him?
Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knocking within] But hark, what noise?
Heaven give your spirits comfort! Exit CLAUDIO [Knocking continues] By and by.
I hope it is some pardon or reprieve For the most gentle Claudio.
Enter DUKE, disguised as before
Welcome, father.
DUKE. The best and wholesom’st spirits of the night Envelop you, good Provost! Who call’d here of late? PROVOST. None, since the curfew rung.
DUKE. Not Isabel?
PROVOST. No.
DUKE. They will then, ere’t be long. PROVOST. What comfort is for Claudio?
DUKE. There’s some in hope.
PROVOST. It is a bitter deputy.
DUKE. Not so, not so; his life is parallel’d Even with the stroke and line of his great justice; He doth with holy abstinence subdue
That in himself which he spurs on his pow’r To qualify in others. Were he meal’d with that Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; But this being so, he’s just. [Knocking within] Now are they come. Exit PROVOST This is a gentle provost; seldom when
The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. [Knocking within] How now, what noise! That spirit’s possess’d with haste That wounds th’ unsisting postern with these strokes.
Re-enter PROVOST
PROVOST. There he must stay until the officer Arise to let him in; he is call’d up.
DUKE. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet But he must die to-morrow?
PROVOST. None, sir, none.
DUKE. As near the dawning, Provost, as it is, You shall hear more ere morning.
PROVOST. Happily
You something know; yet I believe there comes No countermand; no such example have we. Besides, upon the very siege of justice, Lord Angelo hath to the public ear
Profess’d the contrary.
Enter a MESSENGER
This is his lordship’s man.
DUKE. And here comes Claudio’s pardon. MESSENGER. My lord hath sent you this note; and by me this further
charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow; for
as I take it, it is almost day.
PROVOST. I shall obey him. Exit MESSENGER DUKE. [Aside] This is his pardon, purchas’d by such sin For which the pardoner himself is in;
Hence hath offence his quick celerity, When it is borne in high authority.
When vice makes mercy, mercy’s so extended That for the fault’s love is th’ offender friended. Now, sir, what news?
PROVOST. I told you: Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine
office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not us’d it before. DUKE. Pray you, let’s hear.
PROVOST. [Reads] ‘Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock, and, in the afternoon,
Barnardine. For my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio’s head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed, with a thought
that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not
to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril.’ What say you to this, sir?
DUKE. What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in th’ afternoon?
PROVOST. A Bohemian born; but here nurs’d up and bred. One that is a prisoner nine years old. DUKE. How came it that the absent Duke had not either deliver’d him
to his liberty or executed him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so.
PROVOST. His friends still wrought reprieves for him; and, indeed,
his fact, till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to
an undoubted proof.
DUKE. It is now apparent?
PROVOST. Most manifest, and not denied by himself. DUKE. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? How seems he to
be touch’d?
PROVOST. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a
drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless, of what’s past,
present, or to come; insensible of mortality and desperately mortal.
DUKE. He wants advice.
PROVOST. He will hear none. He hath evermore had the liberty of the
prison; give him leave to escape hence, he would not; drunk many
times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft
awak’d him, as if to carry him to execution, and show’d him a seeming warrant for it; it hath not moved him at all. DUKE. More of him anon. There is written in your brow, Provost, honesty and constancy. If I read it not truly, my ancient skill
beguiles me; but in the boldness of my cunning I will lay myself
in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no
greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenc’d him. To
make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four
days’ respite; for the which you are to do me both a present and
a dangerous courtesy.
PROVOST. Pray, sir, in what?
DUKE. In the delaying death.
PROVOST. Alack! How may I do it, having the hour limited, and an
express command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view
of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio’s, to cross this in the
smallest.
DUKE. By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, if my instructions
may be your guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed,
and his head borne to Angelo.
PROVOST. Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour.
DUKE. O, death’s a great disguiser; and you may add to it. Shave
the head and tie the beard; and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bar’d before his death. You know the course is
common. If anything fall to you upon this more than thanks and
good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against
it with my life.
PROVOST. Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath. DUKE. Were you sworn to the Duke, or to the deputy? PROVOST. To him and to his substitutes. DUKE. You will think you have made no offence if the Duke avouch
the justice of your dealing?
PROVOST. But what likelihood is in that? DUKE. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion, can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck
all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of
the Duke. You know the character, I doubt not; and the signet is
not strange to you.
PROVOST. I know them both.
DUKE. The contents of this is the return of the Duke; you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure, where you shall find within
these two days he will be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows
not; for he this very day receives letters of strange tenour, perchance of the Duke’s death, perchance entering into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ. Look, th’ unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be: all difficulties are but
easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine’s head. I will give him a present shrift, and advise
him for a better place. Yet you are amaz’d, but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn. Exeunt
SCENE III.
The prison
Enter POMPEY
POMPEY. I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession; one would think it were Mistress Overdone’s own house, for here be many of her old customers. First, here’s young
Master Rash; he’s in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, nine score and seventeen pounds, of which he made five
marks ready money. Marry, then ginger was not much in request,
for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one Master
Caper, at the suit of Master Threepile the mercer, for some four
suits of peach-colour’d satin, which now peaches him a beggar.
Then have we here young Dizy, and young Master Deepvow, and Master Copperspur, and Master Starvelackey, the rapier and dagger
man, and young Dropheir that kill’d lusty Pudding, and Master Forthlight the tilter, and brave Master Shootie the great traveller, and wild Halfcan that stabb’d Pots, and, I think, forty more- all great doers in our trade, and are now ‘for the
Lord’s sake.’
Enter ABHORSON
ABHORSON. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. POMPEY. Master Barnardine! You must rise and be hang’d, Master Barnardine!
ABHORSON. What ho, Barnardine!
BARNARDINE. [Within] A pox o’ your throats! Who makes that noise
there? What are you?
POMPEY. Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so good, sir,
to rise and be put to death.
BARNARDINE. [ Within ] Away, you rogue, away; I am sleepy. ABHORSON. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. POMPEY. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and
sleep afterwards.
ABHORSON. Go in to him, and fetch him out. POMPEY. He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle.
Enter BARNARDINE
ABHORSON. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah? POMPEY. Very ready, sir.
BARNARDINE. How now, Abhorson, what’s the news with you? ABHORSON. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers;
for, look you, the warrant’s come. BARNARDINE. You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not fitted for’t.
POMPEY. O, the better, sir! For he that drinks all night and is hanged betimes in the morning may sleep the sounder all the next
day.
Enter DUKE, disguised as before
ABHORSON. Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly father. Do we jest now, think you?
DUKE. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily you are
to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you, and pray with
you.
BARNARDINE. Friar, not I; I have been drinking hard all night, and
I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my
brains with billets. I will not consent to die this day, that’s
certain.
DUKE. O, Sir, you must; and therefore I beseech you Look forward on the journey you shall go. BARNARDINE. I swear I will not die to-day for any man’s persuasion.
DUKE. But hear you-
BARNARDINE. Not a word; if you have anything to say to me, come to
my ward; for thence will not I to-day. Exit DUKE. Unfit to live or die. O gravel heart! After him, fellows; bring him to the block. Exeunt ABHORSON and POMPEY
Enter PROVOST
PROVOST. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? DUKE. A creature unprepar’d, unmeet for death; And to transport him in the mind he is Were damnable.
PROVOST. Here in the prison, father, There died this morning of a cruel fever One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, A man of Claudio’s years; his beard and head Just of his colour. What if we do omit This reprobate till he were well inclin’d, And satisfy the deputy with the visage Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?
DUKE. O, ’tis an accident that heaven provides! Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on Prefix’d by Angelo. See this be done,
And sent according to command; whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. PROVOST. This shall be done, good father, presently. But Barnardine must die this afternoon; And how shall we continue Claudio,
To save me from the danger that might come If he were known alive?
DUKE. Let this be done:
Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio. Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting To the under generation, you shall find Your safety manifested.
PROVOST. I am your free dependant. DUKE. Quick, dispatch, and send the head to Angelo. Exit PROVOST
Now will I write letters to Angelo- The Provost, he shall bear them- whose contents Shall witness to him I am near at home, And that, by great injunctions, I am bound To enter publicly. Him I’ll desire
To meet me at the consecrated fount, A league below the city; and from thence, By cold gradation and well-balanc’d form. We shall proceed with Angelo.
Re-enter PROVOST
PROVOST. Here is the head; I’ll carry it myself. DUKE. Convenient is it. Make a swift return; For I would commune with you of such things That want no ear but yours.
PROVOST. I’ll make all speed. Exit ISABELLA. [ Within ] Peace, ho, be here! DUKE. The tongue of Isabel. She’s come to know If yet her brother’s pardon be come hither; But I will keep her ignorant of her good, To make her heavenly comforts of despair When it is least expected.
Enter ISABELLA
ISABELLA. Ho, by your leave!
DUKE. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. ISABELLA. The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the deputy sent my brother’s pardon? DUKE. He hath releas’d him, Isabel, from the world. His head is off and sent to Angelo.
ISABELLA. Nay, but it is not so.
DUKE. It is no other.
Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience. ISABELLA. O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! DUKE. You shall not be admitted to his sight. ISABELLA. Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel! Injurious world! Most damned Angelo!
DUKE. This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot; Forbear it, therefore; give your cause to heaven. Mark what I say, which you shall find
By every syllable a faithful verity. The Duke comes home to-morrow. Nay, dry your eyes. One of our convent, and his confessor, Gives me this instance. Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo,
Who do prepare to meet him at the gates, There to give up their pow’r. If you can, pace your wisdom In that good path that I would wish it go, And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart, And general honour.
ISABELLA. I am directed by you.
DUKE. This letter, then, to Friar Peter give; ‘Tis that he sent me of the Duke’s return. Say, by this token, I desire his company At Mariana’s house to-night. Her cause and yours I’ll perfect him withal; and he shall bring you Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home and home. For my poor self, I am combined by a sacred vow,
And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter. Command these fretting waters from your eyes With a light heart; trust not my holy order, If I pervert your course. Who’s here?
Enter LUCIO
LUCIO. Good even. Friar, where’s the Provost? DUKE. Not within, sir.
LUCIO. O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes
so red. Thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare not for my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set me to’t. But they say the Duke will be
here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I lov’d thy brother. If the
old fantastical Duke of dark corners had been at home, he had
lived. Exit ISABELLA DUKE. Sir, the Duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports;
but the best is, he lives not in them. LUCIO. Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well as I do; he’s a better woodman than thou tak’st him for. DUKE. Well, you’ll answer this one day. Fare ye well. LUCIO. Nay, tarry; I’ll go along with thee; I can tell thee pretty
tales of the Duke.
DUKE. You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true; if not true, none were enough.
LUCIO. I was once before him for getting a wench with child. DUKE. Did you such a thing?
LUCIO. Yes, marry, did I; but I was fain to forswear it: they would
else have married me to the rotten medlar. DUKE. Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well. LUCIO. By my troth, I’ll go with thee to the lane’s end. If bawdy
talk offend you, we’ll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a
kind of burr; I shall stick. Exeunt
SCENE IV.
ANGELO’S house
Enter ANGELO and ESCALUS
ESCALUS. Every letter he hath writ hath disvouch’d other. ANGELO. In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much
like to madness; pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted! And why
meet him at the gates, and redeliver our authorities there? ESCALUS. I guess not.
ANGELO. And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his ent’ring that, if any crave redress of injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street? ESCALUS. He shows his reason for that: to have a dispatch of complaints; and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand against us. ANGELO. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaim’d; Betimes i’ th’ morn I’ll call you at your house; Give notice to such men of sort and suit As are to meet him.
ESCALUS. I shall, sir; fare you well. ANGELO. Good night. Exit ESCALUS This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant And dull to all proceedings. A deflow’red maid! And by an eminent body that enforc’d
The law against it! But that her tender shame Will not proclaim against her maiden loss, How might she tongue me! Yet reason dares her no; For my authority bears a so credent bulk That no particular scandal once can touch But it confounds the breather. He should have liv’d, Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense, Might in the times to come have ta’en revenge, By so receiving a dishonour’d life
With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had liv’d! Alack, when once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right; we would, and we would not. Exit
SCENE V.
Fields without the town
Enter DUKE in his own habit, and Friar PETER
DUKE. These letters at fit time deliver me. [Giving letters] The Provost knows our purpose and our plot. The matter being afoot, keep your instruction And hold you ever to our special drift; Though sometimes you do blench from this to that As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavius’ house, And tell him where I stay; give the like notice To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate; But send me Flavius first.
PETER. It shall be speeded well. Exit FRIAR
Enter VARRIUS
DUKE. I thank thee, Varrius; thou hast made good haste. Come, we will walk. There’s other of our friends Will greet us here anon. My gentle Varrius! Exeunt
SCENE VI.
A street near the city gate
Enter ISABELLA and MARIANA
ISABELLA. To speak so indirectly I am loath; I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, That is your part. Yet I am advis’d to do it; He says, to veil full purpose.
MARIANA. Be rul’d by him.
ISABELLA. Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange; for ’tis a physic That’s bitter to sweet end.
MARIANA. I would Friar Peter-
Enter FRIAR PETER
ISABELLA. O, peace! the friar is come. PETER. Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, Where you may have such vantage on the Duke He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded; The generous and gravest citizens
Have hent the gates, and very near upon The Duke is ent’ring; therefore, hence, away. Exeunt
<
ACT V. SCENE I.
The city gate
Enter at several doors DUKE, VARRIUS, LORDS; ANGELO, ESCALUS, Lucio,
PROVOST, OFFICERS, and CITIZENS
DUKE. My very worthy cousin, fairly met! Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. ANGELO, ESCALUS. Happy return be to your royal Grace! DUKE. Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you, and we hear Such goodness of your justice that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, Forerunning more requital.
ANGELO. You make my bonds still greater. DUKE. O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves, with characters of brass, A forted residence ‘gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand. And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favours that keep within. Come, Escalus, You must walk by us on our other hand, And good supporters are you.
Enter FRIAR PETER and ISABELLA
PETER. Now is your time; speak loud, and kneel before him. ISABELLA. Justice, O royal Duke! Vail your regard Upon a wrong’d- I would fain have said a maid! O worthy Prince, dishonour not your eye By throwing it on any other object
Till you have heard me in my true complaint, And given me justice, justice, justice, justice. DUKE. Relate your wrongs. In what? By whom? Be brief. Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice; Reveal yourself to him.
ISABELLA. O worthy Duke,
You bid me seek redemption of the devil! Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak Must either punish me, not being believ’d, Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O, hear me, here! ANGELO. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm; She hath been a suitor to me for her brother, Cut off by course of justice-
ISABELLA. By course of justice!
ANGELO. And she will speak most bitterly and strange. ISABELLA. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak. That Angelo’s forsworn, is it not strange? That Angelo’s a murderer, is’t not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief,
An hypocrite, a virgin-violator,
Is it not strange and strange?
DUKE. Nay, it is ten times strange. ISABELLA. It is not truer he is Angelo
Than this is all as true as it is strange; Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth To th’ end of reck’ning.
DUKE. Away with her. Poor soul,
She speaks this in th’ infirmity of sense. ISABELLA. O Prince! I conjure thee, as thou believ’st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not with that opinion That I am touch’d with madness. Make not impossible That which but seems unlike: ’tis not impossible But one, the wicked’st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute, As Angelo; even so may Angelo,
In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, Be an arch-villain. Believe it, royal Prince, If he be less, he’s nothing; but he’s more, Had I more name for badness.
DUKE. By mine honesty,
If she be mad, as I believe no other, Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing,
As e’er I heard in madness.
ISABELLA. O gracious Duke,
Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason For inequality; but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid, And hide the false seems true.
DUKE. Many that are not mad
Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say? ISABELLA. I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn’d upon the act of fornication
To lose his head; condemn’d by Angelo. I, in probation of a sisterhood,
Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio As then the messenger-
LUCIO. That’s I, an’t like your Grace. I came to her from Claudio, and desir’d her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother’s pardon.
ISABELLA. That’s he, indeed.
DUKE. You were not bid to speak.
LUCIO. No, my good lord;
Nor wish’d to hold my peace.
DUKE. I wish you now, then;
Pray you take note of it; and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven you then Be perfect.
LUCIO. I warrant your honour.
DUKE. The warrant’s for yourself; take heed to’t. ISABELLA. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. LUCIO. Right.
DUKE. It may be right; but you are i’ the wrong To speak before your time. Proceed.
ISABELLA. I went
To this pernicious caitiff deputy. DUKE. That’s somewhat madly spoken.
ISABELLA. Pardon it;
The phrase is to the matter.
DUKE. Mended again. The matter- proceed. ISABELLA. In brief- to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray’d, and kneel’d, How he refell’d me, and how I replied, For this was of much length- the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter: He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust, Release my brother; and, after much debatement, My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother’s head.
DUKE. This is most likely!
ISABELLA. O that it were as like as it is true! DUKE. By heaven, fond wretch, thou know’st not what thou speak’st,
Or else thou art suborn’d against his honour In hateful practice. First, his integrity Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason That with such vehemency he should pursue Faults proper to himself. If he had so offended, He would have weigh’d thy brother by himself, And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on; Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou cam’st here to complain.
ISABELLA. And is this all?
Then, O you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripened time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance! Heaven shield your Grace from woe, As I, thus wrong’d, hence unbelieved go! DUKE. I know you’d fain be gone. An officer! To prison with her! Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us? This needs must be a practice. Who knew of your intent and coming hither? ISABELLA. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. DUKE. A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick? LUCIO. My lord, I know him; ’tis a meddling friar. I do not like the man; had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he spake against your Grace In your retirement, I had swing’d him soundly. DUKE. Words against me? This’s a good friar, belike! And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute! Let this friar be found. LUCIO. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, I saw them at the prison; a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow.
PETER. Blessed be your royal Grace! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abus’d. First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accus’d your substitute; Who is as free from touch or soil with her As she from one ungot.
DUKE. We did believe no less.
Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of? PETER. I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler,
As he’s reported by this gentleman; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your Grace. LUCIO. My lord, most villainously; believe it. PETER. Well, he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick, my lord, Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request- Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended ‘gainst Lord Angelo- came I hither To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false; and what he, with his oath And all probation, will make up full clear, Whensoever he’s convented. First, for this woman- To justify this worthy nobleman,
So vulgarly and personally accus’d- Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it.
DUKE. Good friar, let’s hear it. Exit ISABELLA guarded Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools! Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo; In this I’ll be impartial; be you judge Of your own cause.
Enter MARIANA veiled
Is this the witness, friar?
FIRST let her show her face, and after speak. MARIANA. Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face Until my husband bid me.
DUKE. What, are you married?
MARIANA. No, my lord.
DUKE. Are you a maid?
MARIANA. No, my lord.
DUKE. A widow, then?
MARIANA. Neither, my lord.
DUKE. Why, you are nothing then; neither maid, widow, nor wife. LUCIO. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.
DUKE. Silence that fellow. I would he had some cause To prattle for himself.
LUCIO. Well, my lord.
MARIANA. My lord, I do confess I ne’er was married, And I confess, besides, I am no maid.
I have known my husband; yet my husband Knows not that ever he knew me.
LUCIO. He was drunk, then, my lord; it can be no better. DUKE. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too! LUCIO. Well, my lord.
DUKE. This is no witness for Lord Angelo. MARIANA. Now I come to’t, my lord:
She that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; And charges him, my lord, with such a time When I’ll depose I had him in mine arms, With all th’ effect of love.
ANGELO. Charges she moe than me?
MARIANA. Not that I know.
DUKE. No? You say your husband.
MARIANA. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne’er knew my body, But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel’s. ANGELO. This is a strange abuse. Let’s see thy face. MARIANA. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [Unveiling]
This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou swor’st was worth the looking on; This is the hand which, with a vow’d contract, Was fast belock’d in thine; this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagin’d person.
DUKE. Know you this woman?
LUCIO. Carnally, she says.
DUKE. Sirrah, no more.
LUCIO. Enough, my lord.
ANGELO. My lord, I must confess I know this woman; And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition; but in chief For that her reputation was disvalued
In levity. Since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour.
MARIANA. Noble Prince,
As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianc’d this man’s wife as strongly As words could make up vows. And, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone, in’s garden-house, He knew me as a wife. As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees, Or else for ever be confixed here,
A marble monument!
ANGELO. I did but smile till now.
Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice; My patience here is touch’d. I do perceive These poor informal women are no more
But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, To find this practice out.
DUKE. Ay, with my heart;
And punish them to your height of pleasure. Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman, Compact with her that’s gone, think’st thou thy oaths, Though they would swear down each particular saint, Were testimonies against his worth and credit, That’s seal’d in approbation? You, Lord Escalus, Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains To find out this abuse, whence ’tis deriv’d. There is another friar that set them on; Let him be sent for.
PETER. Would lie were here, my lord! For he indeed Hath set the women on to this complaint. Your provost knows the place where he abides, And he may fetch him.
DUKE. Go, do it instantly. Exit PROVOST And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, Do with your injuries as seems you best In any chastisement. I for a while will leave you; But stir not you till you have well determin’d Upon these slanderers.
ESCALUS. My lord, we’ll do it throughly. Exit DUKE Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be
a dishonest person?
LUCIO. ‘Cucullus non facit monachum’: honest in nothing but in his
clothes; and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the
Duke.
ESCALUS. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and enforce them against him. We shall find this friar a notable fellow.
LUCIO. As any in Vienna, on my word. ESCALUS. Call that same Isabel here once again; I would speak with
her. [Exit an ATTENDANT] Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see how I’ll handle her. LUCIO. Not better than he, by her own report. ESCALUS. Say you?
LUCIO. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would
sooner confess; perchance, publicly, she’ll be asham’d.
Re-enter OFFICERS with ISABELLA; and PROVOST with the DUKE in his friar’s habit
ESCALUS. I will go darkly to work with her. LUCIO. That’s the way; for women are light at midnight. ESCALUS. Come on, mistress; here’s a gentlewoman denies all that
you have said.
LUCIO. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of, here with the
Provost.
ESCALUS. In very good time. Speak not you to him till we call upon
you.
LUCIO. Mum.
ESCALUS. Come, sir; did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? They have confess’d you did.
DUKE. ‘Tis false.
ESCALUS. How! Know you where you are? DUKE. Respect to your great place! and let the devil Be sometime honour’d for his burning throne! Where is the Duke? ‘Tis he should hear me speak. ESCALUS. The Duke’s in us; and we will hear you speak; Look you speak justly.
DUKE. Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls, Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox, Good night to your redress! Is the Duke gone? Then is your cause gone too. The Duke’s unjust Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
And put your trial in the villain’s mouth Which here you come to accuse.
LUCIO. This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of. ESCALUS. Why, thou unreverend and unhallowed friar, Is’t not enough thou hast suborn’d these women To accuse this worthy man, but, in foul mouth, And in the witness of his proper ear,
To call him villain; and then to glance from him To th’ Duke himself, to tax him with injustice? Take him hence; to th’ rack with him! We’ll touze you Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose. What, ‘unjust’!
DUKE. Be not so hot; the Duke
Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he Dare rack his own; his subject am I not, Nor here provincial. My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,
Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble Till it o’errun the stew: laws for all faults, But faults so countenanc’d that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits in a barber’s shop, As much in mock as mark.
ESCALUS. Slander to th’ state! Away with him to prison! ANGELO. What can you vouch against him, Signior Lucio? Is this the man that you did tell us of? LUCIO. ‘Tis he, my lord. Come hither, good-man bald-pate. Do you know me?
DUKE. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice. I met you at
the prison, in the absence of the Duke. LUCIO. O did you so? And do you remember what you said of the Duke?
DUKE. Most notedly, sir.
LUCIO. Do you so, sir? And was the Duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and
a coward, as you then reported him to be? DUKE. You must, sir, change persons with me ere you make that my
report; you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse.
LUCIO. O thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for
thy speeches?
DUKE. I protest I love the Duke as I love myself. ANGELO. Hark how the villain would close now, after his treasonable
abuses!
ESCALUS. Such a fellow is not to be talk’d withal. Away with him to
prison! Where is the Provost? Away with him to prison! Lay bolts
enough upon him; let him speak no more. Away with those giglets
too, and with the other confederate companion! [The PROVOST lays hands on the DUKE] DUKE. Stay, sir; stay awhile.
ANGELO. What, resists he? Help him, Lucio. LUCIO. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you bald-pated lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your
knave’s visage, with a pox to you! Show your sheep-biting face,
and be hang’d an hour! Will’t not off? [Pulls off the FRIAR’S hood and discovers the DUKE] DUKE. Thou art the first knave that e’er mad’st a duke. First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three. [To Lucio] Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and you Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him. LUCIO. This may prove worse than hanging. DUKE. [To ESCALUS] What you have spoke I pardon; sit you down. We’ll borrow place of him. [To ANGELO] Sir, by your leave. Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard,
And hold no longer out.
ANGELO. O my dread lord,
I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible,
When I perceive your Grace, like pow’r divine, Hath look’d upon my passes. Then, good Prince, No longer session hold upon my shame,
But let my trial be mine own confession; Immediate sentence then, and sequent death, Is all the grace I beg.
DUKE. Come hither, Mariana.
Say, wast thou e’er contracted to this woman? ANGELO. I was, my lord.
DUKE. Go, take her hence and marry her instantly. Do you the office, friar; which consummate, Return him here again. Go with him, Provost. Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and PROVOST ESCALUS. My lord, I am more amaz’d at his dishonour Than at the strangeness of it.
DUKE. Come hither, Isabel.
Your friar is now your prince. As I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney’d at your service.
ISABELLA. O, give me pardon,
That I, your vassal have employ’d and pain’d Your unknown sovereignty.
DUKE. You are pardon’d, Isabel.
And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother’s death, I know, sits at your heart; And you may marvel why I obscur’d myself, Labouring to save his life, and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden pow’r Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid, It was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain’d my purpose. But peace be with him! That life is better life, past fearing death, Than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort, So happy is your brother.
ISABELLA. I do, my lord.
Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and PROVOST
DUKE. For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong’d Your well-defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana’s sake; but as he adjudg’d your brother- Being criminal in double violation
Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach, Thereon dependent, for your brother’s life- The very mercy of the law cries out
Most audible, even from his proper tongue, ‘An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!’ Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure. Then, Angelo, thy fault’s thus manifested, Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. We do condemn thee to the very block
Where Claudio stoop’d to death, and with like haste. Away with him!
MARIANA. O my most gracious lord,
I hope you will not mock me with a husband. DUKE. It is your husband mock’d you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life, And choke your good to come. For his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you withal
To buy you a better husband.
MARIANA. O my dear lord,
I crave no other, nor no better man. DUKE. Never crave him; we are definitive. MARIANA. Gentle my liege- [Kneeling] DUKE. You do but lose your labour.
Away with him to death! [To LUCIO] Now, sir, to you. MARIANA. O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I’ll lend you all my life to do you service. DUKE. Against all sense you do importune her. Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother’s ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror.
MARIANA. Isabel,
Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing; I’ll speak all. They say best men moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad; so may my husband. O Isabel, will you not lend a knee?
DUKE. He dies for Claudio’s death. ISABELLA. [Kneeling] Most bounteous sir, Look, if it please you, on this man condemn’d, As if my brother liv’d. I partly think A due sincerity govern’d his deeds
Till he did look on me; since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died; For Angelo,
His act did not o’ertake his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent
That perish’d by the way. Thoughts are no subjects; Intents but merely thoughts.
MARIANA. Merely, my lord.
DUKE. Your suit’s unprofitable; stand up, I say. I have bethought me of another fault.
Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour?
PROVOST. It was commanded so.
DUKE. Had you a special warrant for the deed? PROVOST. No, my good lord; it was by private message. DUKE. For which I do discharge you of your office; Give up your keys.
PROVOST. Pardon me, noble lord;
I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; Yet did repent me, after more advice;
For testimony whereof, one in the prison, That should by private order else have died, I have reserv’d alive.
DUKE. What’s he?
PROVOST. His name is Barnardine.
DUKE. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. Exit PROVOST ESCALUS. I am sorry one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear’d, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood And lack of temper’d judgment afterward. ANGELO. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure; And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart That I crave death more willingly than mercy; ‘Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.
Re-enter PROVOST, with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO (muffled) and JULIET
DUKE. Which is that Barnardine?
PROVOST. This, my lord.
DUKE. There was a friar told me of this man. Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul, That apprehends no further than this world, And squar’st thy life according. Thou’rt condemn’d; But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all, And pray thee take this mercy to provide For better times to come. Friar, advise him; I leave him to your hand. What muffl’d fellow’s that? PROVOST. This is another prisoner that I sav’d, Who should have died when Claudio lost his head; As like almost to Claudio as himself. [Unmuffles CLAUDIO] DUKE. [To ISABELLA] If he be like your brother, for his sake Is he pardon’d; and for your lovely sake, Give me your hand and say you will be mine, He is my brother too. But fitter time for that. By this Lord Angelo perceives he’s safe; Methinks I see a quick’ning in his eye. Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well. Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours. I find an apt remission in myself;
And yet here’s one in place I cannot pardon. To Lucio] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury, an ass, a madman!
Wherein have I so deserv’d of you That you extol me thus?
LUCIO. Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would
please you I might be whipt.
DUKE. Whipt first, sir, and hang’d after. Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city, If any woman wrong’d by this lewd fellow- As I have heard him swear himself there’s one Whom he begot with child, let her appear, And he shall marry her. The nuptial finish’d, Let him be whipt and hang’d.
LUCIO. I beseech your Highness, do not marry me to a whore. Your
Highness said even now I made you a duke; good my lord, do not
recompense me in making me a cuckold. DUKE. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison; And see our pleasure herein executed. LUCIO. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping,
and hanging.
DUKE. Slandering a prince deserves it. Exeunt OFFICERS with LUCIO She, Claudio, that you wrong’d, look you restore. Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo; I have confess’d her, and I know her virtue. Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness; There’s more behind that is more gratulate. Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrecy; We shall employ thee in a worthier place. Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine for Claudio’s:
Th’ offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good; Whereto if you’ll a willing ear incline, What’s mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. So, bring us to our palace, where we’ll show What’s yet behind that’s meet you all should know. Exeunt
THE END
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