For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear’st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
For thou exist’st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get,
And what thou hast, forget’st. Thou art not certain;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou’rt poor;
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear’s thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age,
But, as it were, an after-dinner’s sleep,
Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant. What’s yet in this
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid moe thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.
Claudio
I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find I seek to die;
And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.
Isabella
[Within] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company!
Provost
Who’s there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.
Duke Vincentio
Dear sir, ere long I’ll visit you again.
Claudio
Most holy sir, I thank you.
Enter Isabella
Isabella
My business is a word or two with Claudio.
Provost
And very welcome. Look, signior, here’s your sister.
Duke Vincentio
Provost, a word with you.
Provost
As many as you please.
Duke Vincentio
Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed.
Exeunt Duke Vincentio and Provost
Claudio
Now, sister, what’s the comfort?
Isabella
Why,
As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed.
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:
Therefore your best appointment make with speed;
To-morrow you set on.
Claudio
Is there no remedy?
Isabella
None, but such remedy as, to save a head,
To cleave a heart in twain.
Claudio
But is there any?
Isabella
Yes, brother, you may live:
There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
If you’ll implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death.
Claudio
Perpetual durance?
Isabella
Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint,
Though all the world’s vastidity you had,
To a determined scope.
Claudio
But in what nature?
Isabella
In such a one as, you consenting to’t,
Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,
And leave you naked.
Claudio
Let me know the point.
Isabella
O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,
Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect
Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die?
The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.
Claudio
Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
From flowery tenderness? If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in mine arms.
Isabella
There spake my brother; there my father’s grave
Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:
Thou art too noble to conserve a life
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i’ the head and follies doth emmew
As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil
His filth within being cast, he would appear
A pond as deep as hell.
Claudio
The prenzie Angelo!
Isabella
O, ’tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned’st body to invest and cover
In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio?
If I would yield him my virginity,
Thou mightst be freed.
Claudio
O heavens! it cannot be.
Isabella
Yes, he would give’t thee, from this rank offence,
So to offend him still. This night’s the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou diest to-morrow.
Claudio
Thou shalt not do’t.
Isabella
O, were it but my life,
I’ld throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.
Claudio
Thanks, dear Isabel.
Isabella
Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.
Claudio
Yes. Has he affections in him,
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin,
Or of the deadly seven, it is the least.
Isabella
Which is the least?
Claudio
If it were damnable, he being so wise,
Why would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fined? O Isabel!
Isabella
What says my brother?
Claudio
Death is a fearful thing.
Isabella
And shamed life a hateful.
Claudio
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison’d in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling: ’tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death.
Isabella
Alas, alas!
Claudio
Sweet sister, let me live:
What sin you do to save a brother’s life,
Nature dispenses with the deed so far
That it becomes a virtue.
Isabella
O you beast!
O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
From thine own sister’s shame? What should I think?
Heaven shield my mother play’d my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness
Ne’er issued from his blood. Take my defiance!
Die, perish! Might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:
I’ll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
No word to save thee.
Claudio
Nay, hear me, Isabel.
Isabella
O, fie, fie, fie!
Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade.
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:
’Tis best thou diest quickly.
Claudio
O hear me, Isabella!
Re-enter Duke Vincentio
Duke Vincentio
Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.
Isabella
What is your will?
Duke Vincentio
Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit.
Isabella
I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile.
Walks apart
Duke Vincentio
Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of her virtue to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death: do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: tomorrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready.
Claudio
Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it.
Duke Vincentio
Hold you there: farewell.
Exit Claudio
Provost, a word with you!
Re-enter Provost
Provost
What’s your will, father
Duke Vincentio
That now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me awhile with the maid: my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company.
Provost
In good time.
Exit Provost. Isabella comes forward
Duke Vincentio
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 conveyed 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 deceived in Angelo! If ever he return and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government.
Duke Vincentio
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 Vincentio
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 Vincentio
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 wrecked 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 Vincentio
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, bestowed 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 Vincentio
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 Vincentio
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 Vincentio
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 Vincentio disguised as before; on the other, Elbow, and Officers with Pompey
Elbow
Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.
Duke Vincentio
O heavens! what stuff is here
Pompey
’Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.
Elbow
Come your way, sir. ’Bless you, good father friar.
Duke Vincentio
And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir?
Elbow
Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have foun
d upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have sent to the deputy.
Duke Vincentio
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 Vincentio
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 him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
Duke Vincentio
That we were all, as some would seem to be,
From our faults, as faults from seeming, free!
Elbow
His neck will come to your waist,— a cord, sir.
Pompey
I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here’s a gentleman and a friend of mine.
Enter Lucio
Lucio
How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Caesar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion’s images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch’d? What reply, ha? What sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is’t not drowned i’ the last rain, ha? What sayest thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The trick of it?
Duke Vincentio
Still thus, and thus; still worse!
Lucio
How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, 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 powdered bawd: an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey?
Pompey
Yes, faith, sir.
Lucio
Why, ’tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I sent thee 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 of a bawd, why, ’tis his right: bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.
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