Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/Measure, for Measure/Act 3 Scene 1
Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.
Enter Duke, Claudio, and Prouost.
Du.
So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
Cla.
The miserable haue no other medicine
But onely hope: I'haue hope to liue, and am prepar'd to
die.
Duke.
Be absolute for death: either death or life
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:
If I do loose thee, I do loose a thing
That none but fooles would keepe: a breath thou art,
Seruile to all the skyie-influences
That dost this habitation where thou keepst
Hourely afflict: Meerely, thou art deaths foole,
For him thou labourst by thy flight to shun,
And yet runst toward him still. Thou art not noble,
For all th' accommodations that thou bearst,
Are nurst by basenesse: Thou'rt by no meanes valiant,
For thou dost feare the soft and tender forke
Of a poore worme: thy best of rest is sleepe,
And that thou oft prouoakst, yet grosselie fearst
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thy selfe,
For thou exists on manie a thousand graines
That issue out of dust. Happie thou art not,
For what thou hast not, still thou striu'st to get,
And what thou hast forgetst. Thou art not certaine,
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the Moone: If thou art rich, thou'rt poore,
For like an Asse, whose backe with Ingots bowes;
Thou bearst thy heauie riches but a iournie,
And death vnloads thee; Friend hast thou none.
For thine owne bowels which do call thee, fire
The meere effusion of thy proper loines
Do curse the Gowt, Sapego, and the Rheume
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, nor age
But as it were an after-dinners sleepe
Dreaming on both, for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth begge the almes
Of palsied-Eld: and when thou art old, and rich
Thou hast neither heate, affection, limbe, nor beautie
To make thy riches pleasant: what's yet in this
That beares the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths; yet death we feare
That makes these oddes, all euen.
Cla.
I humblie thanke you.
To sue to liue, I finde I seeke to die,
And seeking death, finde life: Let it come on.
Enter Isabella.
What hoa? Peace heere; Grace, and good companie.
Pro.
Who's there? Come in, the wish deserues a
welcome.
Duke.
Deere sir, ere long Ile visit you againe.
Cla.
Most holie Sir, I thanke you.
Isa.
My businesse is a word or two with Claudio.
Pro.
And verie welcom: looke Signior, here's your
sister.
Duke.
Prouost, a word with you
Pro.
As manie as you please.
Duke.
Bring them to heare me speak, where I may be
conceal'd.
Cla.
Now sister, what's the comfort?
Isa.
Why,
As all comforts are: most good, most good indeede,
Lord Angelo hauing affaires to heauen
Intends you for his swift Ambassador,
Where you shall be an euerlasting Leiger;
Therefore your best appointment make with speed,
To Morrow you set on.
Clau.
Is there no remedie?
Isa.
None, but such remedie, as to saue a head
To cleaue a heart in twaine:
Clau.
But is there anie?
Isa.
Yes brother, you may liue;
There is a diuellish mercie in the Iudge,
If you'l implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death.
Cla.
Perpetuall durance?
Isa.
I iust, perpetuall durance, a restraint
Through all the worlds vastiditie you had
To a determin'd scope.
Clau.
But in what nature?
Isa.
In such a one, as you consenting too't,
Would barke your honor from that trunke you beare,
And leaue you naked.
Clau.
Let me know the point
Isa.
Oh, I do feare thee Claudio, and I quake,
Least thou a feauorous life shouldst entertaine,
And six or seuen winters more respect
Then a perpetuall Honor. Dar'st thou die?
The sence of death is most in apprehension,
And the poore Beetle that we treade vpon
In corporall sufferance, finds a pang as great,
As when a Giant dies.
Cla.
Why giue you me this shame?
Thinke you I can a resolution fetch
From flowrie tendernesse? If I must die,
I will encounter darknesse as a bride,
And hugge it in mine armes.
Isa.
There spake my brother: there my fathers graue
Did vtter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:
Thou art too noble, to conserue a life
In base appliances. This outward sainted Deputie,
Whose setled visage, and deliberate word
Nips youth i'th head, and follies doth emmew
As Falcon doth the Fowle, is yet a diuell:
His filth within being cast, he would appeare
A pond, as deepe as hell.
Cla.
The prenzie, Angelo?
Isa.
Oh 'tis the cunning Liuerie of hell,
The damnest bodie to inuest, and couer
In prenzie gardes; dost thou thinke Claudio,
If I would yeeld him my virginitie
Thou might'st be freed?
Cla.
Oh heauens, it cannot be.
Isa.
Yes, he would giu't thee; from this rank offence
So to offend him still. This night's the time
That I should do what I abhorre to name,
Or else thou diest to morrow.
Clau.
Thou shalt not do't.
Isa.
O, were it but my life,
I'de throw it downe for your deliuerance
As frankely as a pin.
Clau.
Thankes deere Isabell.
Isa.
Be readie Claudio, for your death to morrow.
Clau.
Yes. Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the Law by th' nose,
When he would force it? Sure it is no sinne,
Or of the deadly seuen it is the least.
Isa.
Which is the least?
Cla.
If it were damnable, he being so wise,
Why would he for the momentarie tricke
Be perdurablie fin'de? Oh Isabell.
Isa.
What saies my brother?
Cla.
Death is a fearefull thing.
Isa.
And shamed life, a hatefull.
Cla.
I, but to die, and go we know not where,
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot,
This sensible warme motion, to become
A kneaded clod; And the delighted spirit
To bath in fierie floods, or to recide
In thrilling Region of thicke-ribbed Ice,
To be imprison'd in the viewlesse windes
And blowne with restlesse violence round about
The pendant world: or to be worse then worst
Of those, that lawlesse and incertaine thought,
Imagine howling, 'tis too horrible.
The weariest, and most loathed worldly life
That Age, Ache, periury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature, is a Paradise
To what we feare of death.
Isa.
Alas, alas.
Cla.
Sweet Sister, let me liue.
What sinne you do, to saue a brothers life,
Nature dispenses with the deede so farre,
That it becomes a vertue.
Isa.
Oh you beast,
Oh faithlesse Coward, oh dishonest wretch,
Wilt thou be made a man, out of my vice?
Is't not a kinde of Incest, to take life
From thine owne sisters shame? What should I thinke,
Heauen shield my Mother plaid my Father faire:
For such a warped slip of wildernesse
Nere issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance,
Die, perish: Might but my bending downe
Repreeue thee from thy fate, it should proceede.
Ile pray a thousand praiers for thy death,
No word to saue thee.
Cla.
Nay heare me Isabell.
Isa.
Oh fie, fie, fie:
Thy sinn's not accidentall, but a Trade;
Mercy to thee would proue it selfe a Bawd,
'Tis best that thou diest quickly.
Cla.
Oh heare me Isabella.
Duk.
Vouchsafe a word, yong sister, but one word.
Isa.
What is your Will.
Duk.
Might you dispense with your leysure, I would by and by haue some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require, is likewise your owne benefit.
Isa.
I haue no superfluous leysure, my stay must be stolen out of other affaires: but I will attend you a while.
Duke.
Son, I haue ouer-heard what hath past between you & your sister. Angelo had neuer the purpose to corrupt her; onely he hath made an assay of her vertue, to practise his iudgement with the disposition of natures. She (hauing the truth of honour in her) hath made him that gracious deniall, which he is most glad to receiue: I am Confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true, therfore prepare your selfe to death: do not satisfie your resolution with hopes that are fallible, to morrow you must die, goe to your knees, and make ready.
Cla.
Let me ask my sister pardon, I am so out of loue with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.
Duke.
Hold you there: farewell: Prouost, a word with you.
Pro.
What's your will (father?)
Duk.
That now you are come, you wil be gone: leaue me a while with the Maid, my minde promises with my habit, no losse shall touch her by my company.
Pro.
In good time. Exit.
Duk.
The hand that hath made you faire, hath made you good: the goodnes that is cheape in beauty, makes beauty briefe in goodnes; but grace being the soule of your complexion, shall keepe the body of it euer faire: the assault that Angelo hath made to you, Fortune hath conuaid to my vnderstanding; and but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo: how will you doe to content this Substitute, and to saue your Brother?
Isab.
I am now going to resolue him: I had rather my brother die by the Law, then my sonne should be vnlawfullie borne. But (oh) how much is the good Duke deceiu'd in Angelo: if euer he returne, and I can speake to him, I will open my lips in vaine, or discouer his gouernment.
Duke.
That shall not be much amisse: yet, as the matter now stands, he will auoid your accusation: he made triall of you onelie. Therefore fasten your eare on my aduisings, to the loue I haue in doing good; a remedie presents it selfe. I doe make my selfe beleeue that you may most vprighteously do a poor wronged Lady a merited benefit; redeem your brother from the angry Law; doe no staine to your owne gracious person, and much please the absent Duke, if peraduenture he shall euer returne to haue hearing of this businesse.
Isab.
Let me heare you speake farther; I haue spirit to do any thing that appeares not fowle in the truth of my spirit.
Duke.
Vertue is bold, and goodnes neuer fearefull: Haue you not heard speake of Mariana the sister of Fredericke the great Souldier, who miscarried at Sea?
Isa.
I haue heard of the Lady, and good words went with her name.
Duke.
Shee should this Angelo haue married: was affianced to her oath, and the nuptiall appointed: between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnitie, her brother Fredericke was wrackt at Sea, hauing in that perished vessell, the dowry of his sister: but marke how heauily this befell to the poore Gentlewoman, there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his loue toward her, euer most kinde and naturall: with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage dowry: with both, her combynate-husband, this well-seeming Angelo.
Isab.
Can this be so? did Angelo so leaue her?
Duke.
Left her in her teares, & dried not one of them with his comfort: swallowed his vowes whole, pretending in her, discoueries of dishonor: in few, bestow'd her on her owne lamentation, which she yet weares for his sake: and he, a marble to her teares, is washed with them, but relents not.
Isab.
What a merit were it in death to take this poore maid from the world? what corruption in this life, that it will let this man liue? But how out of this can shee auaile?
Duke.
It is a rupture that you may easily heale: and the cure of it not onely saues your brother, but keepes you from dishonor in doing it.
Isab.
Shew me how (good Father.)
Duk.
This fore-named Maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his vniust vnkindenesse (that in all reason should haue quenched her loue) hath (like an impediment in the Current) made it more violent and vnruly: Goe you to Angelo, answere his requiring with a plausible obedience, agree with his demands to the point: onely referre your selfe to this aduantage; first, that your stay with him may not be long: that the time may haue all shadow, and silence in it: and the place answere to conuenience: this being granted in course, and now followes all: wee shall aduise this wronged maid to steed vp your appointment, goe in your place: if the encounter acknowledge it selfe heereafter, it may compell him to her recompence; and heere, by this is your brother saued, your honor vntainted, the poore Mariana aduantaged, and the corrupt Deputy scaled. The Maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt: if you thinke well to carry this as you may, the doublenes of the benefit defends the deceit from reproofe. What thinke you of it?
Isab.
The image of it giues me content already, and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.
Duk.
It lies much in your holding vp: haste you speedily to Angelo, if for this night he intreat you to his bed,giue him promise of satisfaction: I will presently to S. Lukes, there at the moated-Grange recides this deiected Mariana; at that place call vpon me, and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.
Isab.
I thank you for this comfort: fare you well good father. Exit.
Enter Elbow, Clowne, Officers.
Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needes buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall haue all the world drinke browne & white bastard.
Duk.
Oh heauens, what stuffe is heere.
Clow.
Twas neuer merry world since of two vsuries the merriest was put downe, and the worser allow'd by order of Law; a fur'd gowne to keepe him warme; and furd with Foxe and Lamb-skins too, to signifie, that craft being richer then Innocency, stands for the facing.
Elb.
Come your way sir: 'blesse you good Father Frier.
Duk.
And you good Brother Father; what offence hath this man made you, Sir?
Elb.
Marry Sir, he hath offended the Law; and Sir, we take him to be a Theefe too Sir: for wee haue found vpon him Sir, a strange Pick-lock, which we haue sent to the Deputie.
Duke.
Fie, sirrah, a Bawd, a wicked bawd,
The euill that thou causest to be done,
That is thy meanes to liue. Do thou but thinke
What'tis to cram a maw, or cloath a backe
From such a filthie vice: say to thy selfe,
From their abhominable and beastly touches
I drinke, I eate away my selfe, and liue:
Canst thou beleeue thy liuing is a life,
So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.
Clo.
Indeed, it do's stinke in some sort, Sir:
But yet Sir I would proue.
Duke.
Nay, if the diuell haue giuen thee proofs for sin
Thou wilt proue his. Take him to prison Officer:
Correction, and Instruction must both worke
Ere this rude beast will profit.
Elb.
He must before the Deputy Sir, he ha's giuen him warning: the Deputy cannot abide a Whore-master: if he be a Whore-monger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
Duke.
That we were all, as some would seeme to bee
From our faults, as faults from seeming free.
Enter Lucio.
His necke will come to your wast, a Cord sir.
Clo.
I spy comfort, I cry baile: Here's a Gentleman, and a friend of mine.
Luc.
How now noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What is there none of Pigmalions Images newly made woman to bee had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What saist thou to this Tune, Matter, and Method? Is't not drown'd i'th last raine? Ha? What saist thou Trot? Is the world as it was Man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The tricke of it?
Duke.
Still thus, and thus: still worse?
Luc.
How doth my deere Morsell, thy Mistris? Procures she still? Ha?
Clo.
Troth sir, shee hath eaten vp all her beefe, and she is her selfe in the tub.
Luc.
Why'tis good: It is the right of it: it must be so. Euer your fresh Whore, and your pouder'd Baud, an vnshun'd consequence, it must be so. Art going to prison Pompey?
Clo.
Yes faith sir.
Luc.
Why'tis not amisse Pompey: farewell: goe say I sent thee thether: for debt Pompey? Or how?
Elb.
For being a baud, for being a baud.
Luc.
Well, then imprison him: If imprisonment be the due of a baud, why'tis his right. Baud is he doubtlesse, and of antiquity too: Baud borne. Farwell good Pompey: Commend me to the prison Pompey, you will turne good husband now Pompey, you will keepe the house.
Clo.
I hope Sir, your good Worship wil be my baile?
Luc.
No indeed wil I not Pompey, it is not the wear: I will pray (Pompey) to encrease your bondage if you take it not patiently: Why, your mettle is the more: Adieu trustie Pompey. Blesse you Friar.
Duke.
And you.
Luc.
Do's Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha?
Elb.
Come your waies sir, come.
Clo.
You will not baile me then Sir?
Luc.
Then Pompey, nor now: what newes abroad Frier? What newes?
Elb.
Come your waies sir, come.
Luc.
Goe to kennell (Pompey) goe: What newes Frier of the Duke?
Duke.
I know none: can you tell me of any?
Luc.
Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia: other some, he is in Rome: but where is he thinke you?
Duke.
I know not where: but wheresoeuer, I wish him well.
Luc.
It was a mad fantasticall tricke of him to steale from the State, and vsurpe the beggerie hee was neuer borne to: Lord Angelo Dukes it well in his absence: he puts transgression too't.
Duke.
He do's well in't.
Luc.
A little more lenitie to Lecherie would doe no harme in him: Something too crabbed that way, Frier.
Duk.
It is too general a vice, and seueritie must cure it.
Luc.
Yes in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied, but it is impossible to extirpe it quite, Frier, till eating and drinking be put downe. They say this Angelo was not made by Man and Woman, after this downe-right way of Creation: is it true, thinke you?
Duke.
How should he be made then?
Luc.
Some report, a Sea-maid spawn'd him. Some, that he was begot betweene two Stock-fishes. But it is certaine, that when he makes water, his Vrine is con-geal'd ice, that I know to bee true: and he is a motion generatiue, that's infallible.
Duke.
You are pleasant sir, and speake apace.
Luc.
Why, what a ruthlesse thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a Cod-peece, to take away the life of a man? Would the Duke that is absent haue done this? Ere he would haue hang'd a man for the getting a hundred Bastards, he would haue paide for the Nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport, hee knew the seruice, and that instructed him to mercie.
Duke.
I neuer heard the absent Duke much detected for Women, he was not enclin'd that way.
Luc.
Oh Sir, you are deceiu'd.
Duke.
'Tis not possible.
Luc.
Who, not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty: and his vse was, to put a ducket in her Clack-dish; the Duke had Crochets in him. Hee would be drunke too, that let me informe you.
Duke.
You do him wrong, surely.
Luc.
Sir, I was an inward of his: a shie fellow was the Duke, and I beleeue I know the cause of his withdrawing.
Duke.
What (I prethee) might be the cause?
Luc.
No, pardon:'Tis a secret must bee lockt within the teeth and the lippes: but this I can let you vnderstand, the greater file of the subiect held the Duke to be
wise.
Duke.
Wise? Why no question but he was.
Luc.
A very superficiall, ignorant, vnweighing fellow.
Duke.
Either this is Enuie in you, Folly, or mistaking: The very streame of his life, and the businesse he hath helmed, must vppon a warranted neede, giue him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his owne bringings forth, and hee shall appeare to the enuious, a Scholler, a Statesman, and a Soldier: therefore you speake vnskilfully: or, if your knowledge bee more, it is much darkned in your malice.
Luc.
Sir, I know him, and I loue him.
Duke.
Loue talkes with better knowledge, & knowledge with deare loue.
Luc.
Come Sir, I know what I know.
Duke.
I can hardly beleeue that, since you know not what you speake. But if euer the Duke returne (as our praiers are he may) let mee desire you to make your answer before him: if it bee honest you haue spoke, you haue courage to maintaine it; I am bound to call vppon you, and I pray you your name?
Luc.
Sir my name is Lucio, wel known to the Duke.
Duke.
He shall know you better Sir, if I may liue to report you.
Luc.
I feare you not.
Duke.
O, you hope the Duke will returne no more: or you imagine me to vnhurtfull an opposite: but indeed I can doe you little harme: You'll for-sweare this againe?
Luc.
Ile be hang'd first: Thou art deceiu'd in mee Friar. But no more of this: Canst thou tell if Claudio die to morrow, or no?
Duke.
Why should he die Sir?
Luc.
Why? For filling a bottle with a Tunne-dish: I would the Duke we talke of were return'd againe: this vngenitur'd Agent will vn-people the Prouince with Continencie. Sparrowes must not build in his house-eeues, because they are lecherous: The Duke yet would haue darke deeds darkelie answered, hee would neuer bring them to light: would hee were return'd. Marrie this Claudio is condemned for vntrussing. Farwell good Friar, I prethee pray for me: The Duke (I say to thee againe) would eate Mutton on Fridaies. He's now past it, yet (and I say to thee) hee would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt browne-bread and Garlicke: say that I said so: Farewell. Exit.
Duke.
No might, nor greatnesse in mortality
Can censure scape: Back-wounding calumnie
The whitest vertue strikes. What King so strong,
Can tie the gall vp in the slanderous tong?
But who comes heere?
Enter Escalus, Prouost, and Bawd.
Esc.
Go, away with her to prison.
Bawd.
Good my Lord be good to mee, your Honor is accounted a mercifull man: good my Lord.
Esc.
Double, and trebble admonition, and still forfeite in the same kinde? This would make mercy sweare and play the Tirant.
Pro.
A Bawd of eleuen yeares continuance, may it please your Honor.
Bawd.
My Lord, this is one Lucio's information against me, Mistris Kate Keepe-downe was with childe by him in the Dukes time, he promis'd her marriage: his Childe is a yeere and a quarter olde come Philip and Iacob: I haue kept it my selfe; and see how hee goes about to abuse me.
Esc.
That fellow is a fellow of much License: Let him be call'd before vs, Away with her to prison: Goe too, no more words. Prouost, my Brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio must die to morrow: Let him be furnish'd with Diuines, and haue all charitable preparation. If my brother wrought by my pitie, it should not be so with him.
Pro.
So please you, this Friar hath beene with him, and aduis'd him for th' entertainment of death.
Esc.
Good' euen, good Father.
Duke.
Blisse, and goodnesse on you.
Esc.
Of whence are you?
Duke.
Not of this Countrie, though my chance is now
To vse it for my time: I am a brother
Of gracious Order, late come from the Sea,
In speciall businesse from his Holinesse.
Esc.
What newes abroad i'th World?
Duke.
None, but that there is so great a Feauor on goodnesse, that the dissolution of it must cure it. Noueltie is onely in request, and as it is as dangerous to be aged in any kinde of course, as it is vertuous to be constant in any vndertaking. There is scarse truth enough aliue to make Societies secure, but Securitie enough to make Fellowships accurst: Much vpon this riddle runs the wisedome of the world: This newes is old enough, yet it is euerie daies newes. I pray you Sir, of what disposition was the Duke?
Esc.
One, that aboue all other strifes,
Contended especially to know himselfe.
Duke.
What pleasure was he giuen to?
Esc.
Rather reioycing to see another merry, then merrie at anie thing which profest to make him reioice. A Gentleman of all temperance. But leaue wee him to his euents, with a praier they may proue prosperous, & let me desire to know, how you finde Claudio prepar'd? I am made to vnderstand, that you haue lent him visitation.
Duke.
He professes to haue receiued no sinister measure from his Iudge, but most willingly humbles himselfe to the determination of Iustice: yet had he framed to himselfe (by the instruction of his frailty) manie deceyuing promises of life, which I (by my good leisure) haue discredited to him, and now is he resolu'd to die.
Esc.
You haue paid the heauens your Function, and the prisoner the verie debt of your Calling. I haue labour'd for the poore Gentleman, to the extremest shore of my modestie, but my brother-Iustice haue I found so seuere, that he hath forc'd me to tell him, hee is indeede Iustice.
Duke.
If his owne life,
Answere the straitnesse of his proceeding,
It shall become him well: wherein if he chance to faile he hath sentenc'd himselfe.
Esc.
I am going to visit the prisoner, Fare you well.
Duke.
Peace be with you.
He who the sword of Heauen will beare,
Should be as holy, as seueare:
Patterne in himselfe to know,
Grace to stand, and Vertue go:
More, nor lesse to others paying,
Then by selfe-offences weighing.
Shame to him, whose cruell striking,
Kils for faults of his owne liking:
Twice trebble shame on Angelo,
To weede my vice, and let his grow.
Oh, what may Man within him hide,
Though Angel on the outward side?
How may likenesse made in crimes,
Making practise on the Times,
To draw with ydle Spiders strings
Most ponderous and substantiall things?
Craft against vice, I must applie.
With Angelo to night shall lye
His old betroathed (but despised:)
So disguise shall by th' disguised
Pay with falshood, false exacting,
And performe an olde contracting. Exit