SCENE I.

A hall in Angelo's house.

Enter ANGELO, ESCALUS, a Justice, Provost, Officers, and other Attendants.

law,

Setting it up to fear the birds of prey,

And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.

Escal.

Ay, but yet Let us be keen, and rather cut a little, Than fall, and bruise to death: Alas! this gentleman,

Whom I would save, had a most noble father. Let but your honour know,

(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,) That, in the working of your own affections, Had time coher'd with place, or place with wishing,

Or that the resolute acting of your blood
Could have attain'd the effect of your own
purpose,

Whether you
had not sometime in your life
Err'd in this point, which now you censure him,
And pull'd the law upon you.

Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,
Another thing to fall. I not deny,
The jury, passing on the prisoner's life,
May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two
Guiltier than him they try: What's open made
to justice,

That justice seizes. What know the laws,
That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very preg-

nant,

The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it,
Because we see it; but what we do not see,
We tread upon, and never think of it.
You may not so extenuate his offence,
For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,
When I, that censure him, do so offend,
Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.
Escal. Be it as your wisdom will.
Ang.
Where is the provost?
Prov. Here, if it like your honour.
Ang.
See, that Claudio
Be executed by nine to-morrow morning:
Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar'd;
For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage.

[Exit Provost. Escal. Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all!

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:
Some run from brakes of vice, and answer none;
And some condemned for a fault alone.

Enter ELBOW, FROTI, Clown, Officers, &c. Elb. Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a common-weal, that do nothing

before your good honour two notorious benefactors.

Ang. Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are they not malefactors?

Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world, that good christians ought to have.

Escal. This comes off well; here's a wise officer.

Ang. Go to: What quality are they of? Elbow is your name? Why dost thou not speak,

Elbow?

Clo. He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow.
Ang. What are you, sir?

Elb. He, sir? a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, pluck'd down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too.

Escal. How know you that?

Elb. My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,

Escal. How! thy wife?

Elb. Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,

Escal. Dost thou detest her therefore?

Elb. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.

Escal. How dost thou know that, constable? Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there.

Escal. By the woman's means?

Elb. Ay, sir, by mistress Overdone's means: but as she spit in his face, so she defied him. Clo. Sir, if it please your honour, this is

not so.

Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man, prove it.

Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces?
[To Angelo.

Clo. Sir, she came in great with child; and longing (saving your honour's reverence,) for stew'd prunes; sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some threepence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes.

Escal. Go to, go to; no matter for the dish, sir.

Clo. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but, to the point: As I say, this mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great belly'd, and longing, as said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; for, as you know, master Froth, I could not give you three pence again.

Froth. No, indeed.

Clo. Very well you being then, if you be remember'd, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes.

Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed.

Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then, if you be remember'd, that such a one, and such a one, were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you. Froth. All this is true.

Clo. Why, very well then,

Escal. Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her.

Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.

Escul. No, sir, nor I mean it not.

Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave: And, I beseech you, look into master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year; whose father died at Hallowanas: Was't not at Hallowmas, Froth?

Frosh. All-hollond eve.

master

Clo. Why, very well; I hope here be truths: He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you have a delight to sit: İlave you not?

Froth. I have so; because it is an open room, and good for winter.

Clo. Why, very well then;—I hope here be truths.

Ang. This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there: I'll take my

leave,

And leave you to the hearing of the cause; Hoping, you'll find good cause to whip them all. Escal. I think no less: Good morrow to your lordship. [Exit Angelo. Now, sir, come on: What was done to Elbow's wife, once more?

Clo. Once, sir? there was nothing done to ker once.

Elb. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.

Clo. I beseech your honour, ask me. Escal. Well, sir: What did this gentleman to ber?

Clo. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face-Good master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose: Doth your hoour mark his face?

Escal. Why, no.

Clo. I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him: Good then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could master Froth do the constable's wife any harm? I would know that of your honour.

Escal. He's in the right: Constable, what say you to it?

Elb. First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman.

Clo. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all.

Eib. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet: the time is yet to come, that she was ever respected with inan, woman, or child.

Clo. Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.

Escal. Which is the wiser here? Justice, or Iniquity? Is this true?

Elb. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her, before I was married to her? If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke's officer:-Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee.

Escal. If he took a box o' ear, you might have your action of slander too.

Elb. Marry, I thank your good worship for it: What is't your worship's pleasure I should do with this wicked caitiff?

Escal. Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him, that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses, till thou know'st what they are.

Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it:Thou seest, thou wicked varlet now, what's come upon thee; thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue.

Escal. Where were you born, friend?
[To Froth.

Froth. Here in Vienna, sir. Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year? Froth. Yes, and't please you, sir. Escal. So. What trade are you of, sir? [To the Clown. Clo. A tapster; a poor widow's tapster. Escal. Your mistress's name? Clo. Mistress Over-done. Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband?

Clo. Nine, sir; Over-done by the last.

Escal. Nine!-Come hither to me, master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters; they will draw you, master Froth, and you will hang them: Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you.

Escal. Well; no more of it, master Froth: farewell. [Exit Froth.]-Come you hither to me, master tapster; what's your name, master tapster ?

Clo. Pompey.

Escal. What else? Clo. Bum, sir.

Escal. 'Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster. Are you not? come, tell me true; it shall be the better for you.

Clo. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow, that would live.

Escal. How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What do you think of the trade Pompey? is it a lawful trade?

Clo. If the law would allow it, sir. Escal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.

Clo. Does your worship mean to geld and spay all the youth in the city?

Escal. No, Pompey.

Clo. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then: If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.

Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: It is but heading and hanging.

Clo. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it, after three pence a bay: If you live to see this come to pass, say, Pompey told you so.

Escal. Thank you, good Pompey: and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you,-I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever, no, not for dwelling where you do; if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Cæsar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

Clo. I thank your worship for your good counsel; but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune shall better determine.

Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade; The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade. [Exit. Escal. Come hither to me, master Elbow; come hither, master Constable. How long have you been in this place of constable?

Elb. Seven year and a half, sir.

Escal. I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time: You say, seven years together?

Elb. And a half, sir.

Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you! They do you wrong to put you so oft upon't:

serve it?

Elb. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all.

Escal. Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.

Elb. To your worship's house, sir?
Escal. To my house: Fare you well. [Erit
Elbow.] What's o'clock, think you?
Just. Eleven, sir.

Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me.
Just. I humbly thank you.

Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio; But there's no remedy.

Just. Lord Angelo is severe.

Escal.

It is but needful; Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so; Pardon is still the nurse of second woe: But yet,-Poor Claudio!-There's no remedy. Come, sir. [Exeunt.

Well, let her be admitted.

[Erit Sertant.

See you, the fornicatress be remov'd;
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means;
There shall be order for it.

Enter LUCIO and ISABELLA.
Prov. Save your honour! [Offering to retire.
Ang. Stay a little while.-[To Isab.] You are
welcome: What's your will?
Isab. I am a woeful suitor to your honour,
Please but your honour hear me.
Ang.
Well; what's your suit?
Isab. There is a vice, that most I do abhor,
And most desire should meet the blow of justice;
For which I would not plead, but that I must;
For which I must not plead, but that I ain
At war, 'twixt will, and will not.

Ang. Well; the matter? Isub. I have a brother is condemned to die: I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother.

Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces!
Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor
of it!

Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done:
Mine were the very cipher of a function,
To find the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.

Isab. O just, but severe law! I had a brother then.-Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring. Lucio. [To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him again, intreat him;

Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;
You are too cold: if you should need a pin,
You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
To him, I say,

Isab. Must he needs die?
Ang.

Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him,

And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy.

Ang. I will not do't.
Isab.
But can you, if you would?
Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.
Isab. But might you do't, and do the world

do wrong,
If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse
As mine is to him?
Ang.

He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isabella. Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,

May call it back again: Well believe this,
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,

Become them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have slipt like him;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.
Ang. Pray you, begone.

Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus ? No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner.

Lucio. Ay, touch him: there's the vein.

[Aside. Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words.

Isab. Alas! alas! Why, all the souls, that were, were forfeit once; And He, that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: How would you be, If he, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made. Ang.

Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him; he must die to

morrow.

Isab. To-morrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him:

He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitch

ens

We kill the fowl of season; shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister

To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you:

Who is it, that hath died for this offence?
There's inany have committed it.
Lucio.
Ay, well said.
Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it
hath slept:

Those many had not dar'd to do that evil,
If the first man, that did the edict infringe,
Had answer'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake;
Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils,
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiv'd,
And so in progress to be hatch'd and born,)
Are now to have no successive degrees,
But, where they live, to end.
Isab.
Yet show some pity.
Ang. I show it most of all, when I show jus-
tice;

For then I pity those I do not know,
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall;
And do him right, that, answering one foul
wrong,

Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;
Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this
sentence;

And he, that suffers: O, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.

Lucio.
That's well said.
Isab. Could great men thunder

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,
Spilt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the soft myrtle;-O, but man, proud man!
Drest in a little brief authority;

Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
Ilis glassy essence,-like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastick tricks before high heaven,
As make the angels weep; who, with our
spleens,

Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Isub. Save your honour!

[Exeunt Lucio, Isabella, and Provost. Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue !— What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine?

The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most?
Ha!

Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I,
That lying by the violet, in the sun,

lent;

He's coming, I perceive't.
Prov.
Pray heaven, she win him!
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with our-
self:

Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them;
But, in the less, foul profanation.
Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl; more o' that.
Isab. That in the captain's but a cholerick
word,

Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

Lucio. Art advis'd o' that? more on't.
Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me?
Isab. Because authority, though it err like
others,

Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,
That skins the vice o' the top: Go to your
bosom;

Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth know,

That's like my brother's fault: if it confess
A natural guiltiness, such as is his,

Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
Against my brother's life.

Ang. She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.Fare you well.

Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back.

Ang. I will bethink me:-Come again to

inorrow.

Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be,
That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground
enough,

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,
And pitch our evils there? O, fy, fy, fy!
What dost thou? or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully, for those things
That make her good? O, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority,
When judges steal themselves. What? do I
love her,

That I desire to hear her speak again,
Aud feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtuc: never could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art, and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite;-Ever, till now,

When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how.

SCENE III.

A room in a prison.

Enter DUKE, habited like a Friar, and Provost. Duke. Hail to you, provost! so, I think you

are.

Prov. I am the provost: What's your will, good friar?

Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order,

I come to visit the afflicted spirits
Here in the prison: do me the common right
To let me see them; and to make me know
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
To them accordingly.

Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful.

Enter JULIET.

Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine, Who falling in the flames of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report: She is with child; And he, that got it, sentenc'd: a young man