The Works of Shakspeare

SCENE 1.]

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

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 uncleanli

ness there.

Escal. By the woman's means?

Elb. Ay, sir, by mistress Over-done's means: bat 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 pranes; sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruitdish, a dish of some three-pence; 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 I 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.

Froth. All-holland eve.

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: Have 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? [once. Clo. Once, sir? there was nothing done to her Elb. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.

Clo. I beseech your honour, ask me. [her? Escal. Well, sir: What did this gentleman to 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 honour mark Escal. Ay, sir, very well. [his face? Clo. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well." Escal. Well, I do so.

Clo. Doth your honour see any harm in 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. [you to it?

Escal. He's in the right: Constable, what say 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.

Elb. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet: the time is yet to come, that she was ever respected with man, 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 you a box o' th' 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 see'st, 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, an'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.

Froth. I thank your worship: For mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am drawn in.

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 youths 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 well.

you

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. Escul. 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; Are there not men in your ward sufficient to 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. [Exit Elbow.] What's o'clock, think you?

Just. Eleven, sir.

[Exit Servant.

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 am At war, 'twixt will, and will not. Ang. Well; the matter? Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd 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 cypher 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.) Giv'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 no

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,

SCENE 3.]

MEASURE FOR MEASURE.

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 be, 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.

Lacio. 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
Bat 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-
[spare him:
Isab. To-morrow? O, that's sudden ! Spare him,
He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season; shall we serve heaven
With less respect than we do minister

morrow.

[you:

To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink
Who is it that hath died for this offence?
There's many 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.
Yet, show some pity.
Isab.
Ang. I show it most of all, when I show justice;
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.

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.

She speaks, and 'tis
Ang.
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-

morrow.

Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my lord,
[turn back.
Ang. How! bribe me?
Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share
with you.

Lucio. You had marr'd all else.

Isab. Not with foul shekels of the tested gold,
Or stones, whose rates are either rich, or poor,
As fancy values them: but with true prayers,
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there,
Ere sun-rise: prayers from preserved souls,
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate
Well: come to me
to nothing temporal.

Ang.
To-morrow.

Lucio. Go to; it is well; away. (Aside to Isabel.)
Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe!
Ang.

Am that way going to temptation,
Where prayers cross.

Amen: for I

(Aside.)

At what hour to-morrow

Isab.
Shall I attend your lordship?
Ang.

Isab. Save your honour!

At any time 'fore noon.

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,
Can it be,
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season.
That modesty may more betray our sense
[enough,
Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground
Shall we desire to raise the sanctuary,
And pitch our evils there? O, fy, fy, fy!

Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this What dost thou? or what art thou, Angelo?

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

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
For every pelting, petty officer,

Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but
(thunder.-
Merciful heaven!

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,
Split 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,
His glassy essence,-like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven,
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lacio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent;
He's coming, I perceive't.
Pray heaven, she win him!
Prov.
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:
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.

[her,

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
That I desire to hear her speak again,
And 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 virtue: 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.

[Exit.

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
[needful.
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister
Prov. I would do more than that, if more were
To them accordingly.

pray

To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words;
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name;
And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception: The state, whereon I studied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form!
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood :
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,
"Tis not the devil's crest.

Ang. Yea.

Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted, That his soul sicken not.

[good
Ang. Ha! Fy, these filthy vices! It were as
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen
A man already made, as to remit

Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image,
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy
Falsely to take away a life true made,
As to put mettle in restrained means,
To make a false one.

[earth.

Isub. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in Ang. Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly. Which had you rather, That the most just law Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness, As she that he hath stain'd?

Isab.

Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul. Ang. I talk not of your soul; our compell'd sins Stand more for number than accompt.

Isab.
How say you?
Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Against the thing I say. Answer to this,-
I, now the voice of the recorded law,

Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:
Might there not be a charity in sin,
To save this brother's life?"

Isab.

I'll take it as a peril to my soul, It is no sin at all, but charity.

Please you to do't,

Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poize of sin and charity.

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my moru prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your, answer.

Ang. Nay, but hear me : Your sense pursues not mine: either you are igOr seem so craftily; and that's not good. [norant, Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself: as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could displayed.-But mark me; To be received plain, I'll speak more gross : Your brother is to die.

Isab. So.

Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears
Accountant to the law upon that pain.
Isab. True.

Ang. Admit no other way to save his life,
(As I subscribe not that, nor any other,
But in the loss of question,) that you, his sister,
Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the all-binding law; and that there were
No earthly mean to save him, but that either
You must lay down the treasures of your body
To this supposed, or else let him suffer;
What would you do?

Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself:
That is, Were I under the terms of death,
The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.

Ang.

Then must your brother die.
Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way:
Better it were, a brother died at once,
Thau that a sister, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence,
That you have slander'd so?

Isab. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon,
Are of two houses: lawful mercy is
Nothing a-kin to foul redemption.

Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;
And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment than a vice.

Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean:
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
For his advantage, that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.
Isab.

Else let my brother die,

If not a feodary, but only he,
Owe, and succeed by weakness.
Ang.
Nay, women are frail too.
Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view them-
selves;

Which are as easy broke as they make forms.
Women!-Help heaven! men their creation mar
In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are soft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints.

Ang.
I think it well:
And from this testimony of your own sex,
(Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger
Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be bold;-
I do arrest your words; Be that you are,
That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;
If you be one, (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants,) show it now,
By putting on the destin'd livery.

Isab. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me intreat you speak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

Isab. My brother did love Juliet; and you tell me,
That be shall die for it.

Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.
Isab. I know, your virtue hath a licence in't,
Which seems a little fouler than it is,
To plack on others.

Ang.

Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.
Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,
And most pernicious purpose!-Seeming, seem-
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

Ang.

[ing!

Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i' the state,
Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun;
And now I give my sensual race the reign:
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite;
Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes,

That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will;
Or else he must not only die the death,

Bat thy unkindness shall his death draw out
To lingering sufferance: answer me to-morrow,
Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
I'll prove a tyrant to him: As for you,

Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.

[Exit.

Isab. To whom shall I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof!
Bidding the law make court'sy to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.

Then Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,

And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.
ACT III.

SCENE I.-A Room in the Prison.
Enter DUKE, CLAUDIO, and PROVOST.

Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord
Angelo?

Claud. The miserable have no other medicine,
But only hope:

I have hope to live, 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 lose thee, I do lose a thing

That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
(Servile to all the skiey influences,)

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,
And yet run'st toward him still: Thou art not noble ;
For all the 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
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 thon exist'st on many a thousand grains
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;
That issue out of dust: Happy thou art not:
And what thou hast, forget'st: Thou art not certain;
After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art poor;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
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
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich,
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms
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 more thousand deaths: yet death we fear,
That makes these odds all even.

Claud.

I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find, I seek to die;
And, seeking death, find life: Let it come on.
Enter ISABELLA.

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The Works of Shakspeare: From the Text of Johnson, Steevens, and Reed