That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, Hourly afflict. Merely, thou art death's fool; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, 12 And yet run'st toward him still. Thou art not noble:

For all th' accommodations that thou bear'st Are nurs'd by baseness. Thou art by no means valiant;

For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 16
Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not
thyself;

For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains 20
That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get,
And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not
certain;

For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, 24
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor;
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st 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

32

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.
Claud.
Is there no remedy?
Isab. None, but such remedy, as to save a
head

To cleave a heart in twain.
Claud.

60

But is there any? Isab. Yes, brother, you may live: There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If you'll implore it, that will free your life, 64 But fetter you till death. Claud. Perpetual durance? Isab. Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint, Though all the world's vastidity you had, To a determin'd scope.

Claud. But in what nature? 68 Isab. In such a one as, you consenting to't, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked. Claud. Let me know the point. Isab. 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. Dar'st thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension, 76 And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. Claud.

80

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.

Isab. There spake my brother: there my father's grave 84 Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: Thou art too noble to conserve a life

In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,

Isab. What a merit were it in death to take

243

192

Isab. 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. 198 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. 210 Isab. Let me hear you speak further. 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?

Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. 219 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 wracked 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.

231

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. 248

Isab. 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?

271

Isab. 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 St. 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. 281 Isab. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.-The Street before the Prison. Enter DUKE, as a friar; to him ELBOW, POMPEY,

and Officers.

to keep him warm; and furred with fox and lamb skins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. Elb. Come your way, sir. Bless you, good father friar. 13 Duke. 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 thief too, sir; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have sent to the deputy.

24

Duke. Fie, sirrah: a bawd, a wicked bawd! 20 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. 28 Pom. 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.

32

Elb. 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. That we were all, as some would seem to be, 40 From our faults, as faults from seeming, free! Elb. His neck will come to your waist,cord, sir.

Pom. I spy comfort: I cry, bail. gentleman and a friend of mine.

Enter LUCIO.

-a

Here's a

45

Lucio. How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Cæsar? 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 clutched? What reply? ha? What say'st 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? 56

Duke. Still thus, and thus, still worse! Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, ha?

Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell. Go, say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how?

Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. 70 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.

77