Measure for Measure

  DUKE. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.  ISABELLA. What is your will?  DUKE. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and byhave    some speech with you; the satisfaction I would require is    likewise your own benefit.  ISABELLA. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolenout    of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile.                                                   [Walks apart]  DUKE. Son, I have overheard what hath pass'd between you andyour    sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only hehath    made an assay of her virtue to practise his judgment with the    disposition of natures. She, having the truth of honour inher,    hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to    receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to betrue;    therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not satisfy your    resolution with hopes that are fallible; to-morrow you mustdie;    go to your knees and make ready.  CLAUDIO. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love withlife    that I will sue to be rid of it.  DUKE. Hold you there. Farewell. [Exit CLAUDIO] Provost, a wordwith    you.

Re-enter PROVOST

PROVOST. What's your will, father? DUKE. That, now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me a while with the maid; my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company. PROVOST. In good time. Exit PROVOST DUKE. The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good; the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother? ISABELLA. I am now going to resolve him; I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good Duke deceiv'd in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. DUKE. That shall not be much amiss; yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation: he made trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings; to the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person; and much please the absent Duke, if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this business. ISABELLA. Let me hear you speak farther; I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. DUKE. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier who miscarried at sea? ISABELLA. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. DUKE. She should this Angelo have married; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed; between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity her brother Frederick was wreck'd at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. ISABELLA. Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her? DUKE. Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour; in few, bestow'd her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not. ISABELLA. What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life that it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail? DUKE. It is a rupture that you may easily heal; and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. ISABELLA. Show me how, good father. DUKE. This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience; agree with his demands to the point; only refer yourself to this advantage: first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. This being granted in course- and now follows all: we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place. If the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense; and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it? ISABELLA. The image of it gives me content already; and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. DUKE. It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. ISABELLA. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. Exeunt severally

Scene II. The street before the prison

Enter, on one side, DUKE disguised as before; on the other, ELBOW, and OFFICERS with POMPEY

  ELBOW. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you willneeds    buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the    world drink brown and white bastard.  DUKE. O heavens! what stuff is here?  POMPEY. 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, themerriest    was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd    gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox on lamb-skins too,to    signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands forthe    facing.  ELBOW. Come your way, sir. Bless you, good father friar.  DUKE. And you, good brother father. What offence hath this manmade    you, sir?  ELBOW. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we takehim    to be a thief too, sir, for we have found upon him, sir, a    strange picklock, which we have sent to the deputy.  DUKE. Fie, sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd!    The evil that thou causest to be done,    That is thy means to live. Do thou but think    What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back    From such a filthy vice; say to thyself    'From their abominable and beastly touches    I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.'    Canst thou believe thy living is a life,    So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.  POMPEY. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir,    I would prove-  DUKE. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,    Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer;    Correction and instruction must both work    Ere this rude beast will profit.  ELBOW. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given himwarning.    The deputy cannot abide a whoremaster; if he be awhoremonger,    and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on hiserrand.  DUKE. That we were all, as some would seem to be,    From our faults, as his faults from seeming, free.  ELBOW. His neck will come to your waist- a cord, sir.

Enter LUCIO

  POMPEY. I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's a gentleman, and afriend    of mine.  LUCIO. How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Caesar?Art    thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion'simages,    newly made woman, to be had now for putting the hand in the    pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? Whatsay'st    thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i'th'    last rain, ha? What say'st thou, trot? Is the world as itwas,    man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The    trick of it?  DUKE. Still thus, and thus; still worse!  LUCIO. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures shestill,    ha?  POMPEY. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is    herself in the tub.  LUCIO. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so;ever    your fresh whore and your powder'd bawd- an unshunn'd    consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey?  POMPEY. Yes, faith, sir.  LUCIO. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell; go, say I sentthee    thither. For debt, Pompey- or how?  ELBOW. For being a bawd, for being a bawd.  LUCIO. Well, then, imprison him. If imprisonment be the due ofa    bawd, why, 'tis his right. Bawd is he doubtless, and of    antiquity, too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend meto    the prison, Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey;you    will keep the house.  POMPEY. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail.  LUCIO. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. Iwill    pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage. If you take it not    patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu trusty Pompey.    Bless you, friar.  DUKE. And you.  LUCIO. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha?  ELBOW. Come your ways, sir; come.  POMPEY. You will not bail me then, sir?  LUCIO. Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar? whatnews?  ELBOW. Come your ways, sir; come.  LUCIO. Go to kennel, Pompey, go.

Exeunt ELBOW, POMPEY and OFFICERS

    What news, friar, of the Duke?  DUKE. I know none. Can you tell me of any?  LUCIO. Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other some,he is    in Rome; but where is he, think you?  DUKE. I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well.  LUCIO. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the    state and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo    dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to't.  DUKE. He does well in't.  LUCIO. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him;    something too crabbed that way, friar.  DUKE. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.  LUCIO. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; itis    well allied; but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar,till    eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not

made by man and woman after this downright way of creation. Is it true, think you? DUKE. How should he be made, then? LUCIO. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him; some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true. And he is a motion generative; that's infallible. DUKE. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. LUCIO. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the Duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. DUKE. I never heard the absent Duke much detected for women; he was not inclin'd that way. LUCIO. O, sir, you are deceiv'd. DUKE. 'Tis not possible. LUCIO. Who- not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish. The Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too; that let me inform you. DUKE. You do him wrong, surely. LUCIO. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the Duke; and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing. DUKE. What, I prithee, might be the cause? LUCIO. No, pardon; 'tis a secret must be lock'd within the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you understand: the greater file of the subject held the Duke to be wise. DUKE. Wise? Why, no question but he was. LUCIO. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. DUKE. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much dark'ned in your malice. LUCIO. Sir, I know him, and I love him. DUKE. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love. LUCIO. Come, sir, I know what I know. DUKE. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the Duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it; I am bound to call upon you; and I pray you your name? LUCIO. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke. DUKE. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. LUCIO. I fear you not. DUKE. O, you hope the Duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you'll forswear this again. LUCIO. I'll be hang'd first. Thou art deceiv'd in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no? DUKE. Why should he die, sir? LUCIO. Why? For filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would the Duke we talk of were return'd again. This ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves because they are lecherous. The Duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to

    light. Would he were return'd! Marry, this Claudio iscondemned    for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I prithee pray for me.The    Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He'snot    past it yet; and, I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar    though she smelt brown bread and garlic. Say that I said so.    Farewell. Exit  DUKE. No might nor greatness in mortality    Can censure scape; back-wounding calumny    The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong    Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?    But who comes here?Enter ESCALUS, PROVOST, and OFFICERS with MISTRESS OVERDONE  ESCALUS. Go, away with her to prison.  MRS. OVERDONE. Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is    accounted a merciful man; good my lord.  ESCALUS. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the    same kind! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant.  PROVOST. A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it pleaseyour    honour.  MRS. OVERDONE. My lord, this is one Lucio's information againstme.    Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the Duke'stime;    he promis'd her marriage. His child is a year and a quarterold    come Philip and Jacob; I have kept it myself; and see how hegoes    about to abuse me.  ESCALUS. That fellow is a fellow of much license. Let him becall'd    before us. Away with her to prison. Go to; no more words.[Exeunt    OFFICERS with MISTRESS OVERDONE] Provost, my brother Angelowill    not be alter'd: Claudio must die to-morrow. Let him befurnish'd    with divines, and have all charitable preparation. If mybrother    wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him.  PROVOST. So please you, this friar hath been with him, andadvis'd    him for th' entertainment of death.  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 thatthe    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 itis    virtuous to be constant in any undertakeing. There is scarce    truth enough alive to make societies secure; but securityenough    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 theDuke?  ESCALUS. One that, above all other strifes, contendedespecially 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 ofall    temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayerthey    may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find    Claudio prepar'd. I am made to understand that you have lenthim    visitation.  DUKE. He professes to have received no sinister measure fromhis    judge, but most willingly humbles himself to thedetermination of    justice. Yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction ofhis    frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I, by my good    leisure, have discredited to him, and now he is resolv'd todie.  ESCALUS. You have paid the heavens your function, and theprisoner    the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor    gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty; but mybrother    justice have I found so severe that he hath forc'd me to tellhim    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 allday.

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 callupon    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 adirect    answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine.Here    is in our prison a common executioner, who in his officelacks a    helper; if you will take it on you to assist him, it shallredeem    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; butyet    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 inyour    execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by theyear,    and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for thepresent,    and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; hehath    been a bawd.  ABHORSON. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him! He will discredit ourmystery.  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 youcall,    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 shouldbe    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 betoo    little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; ifit    be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it littleenough; 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 amore    penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oftener askforgiveness.  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 haveoccasion    to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare; fortruly,    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