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Esca. Why, no.

Clown. 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.

Esca. 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.

Clown. 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.

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

Esca. 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.

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

Clown. If the law would allow it, sir.

Esca. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.

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

Esca. No, pompey.

Clown. 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.

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

Clown. 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.

Esca. 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

Esca. If he took you a box 'o the ear, you might shall have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare 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?

Esca. 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.

Esca. Where were you born, friend? [To Froth.
Froth. Here, in Vienna, sir.

Esca. Are you of fourscore pounds a year?
Froth. Yes, and't please you, sir.

Esca. So.-What trade are you of, sir? [To the Clow.
Clown. A tapster; a poor widow's tapster.
Esca. Your mistress's name?

Clown. Mistress Over-done.

Esca. Hath she had any more than one husband? Clown. Nine, sir; Over-done by the last.

Esca. 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.

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

Clown. Pompey.

Esca. What else? Clown. Bum, sir.

Esca. 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.

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

you well.

Clown. 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. Esca. 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.

Esca. 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.

Esca. 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.

Esca. 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? Esca. To my house: Fare you well. What's o'clock, think you?

Just. Eleven, sir.

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

[Ex. Elb.

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Prov. Save your honour !

[Offering to retire.

Ang. Stay a little while.-[To Isab.] You are wel

come: What's your will?

lamb. I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me.

Ang. Well; what's your suit?

Lab. 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, 'twist will, and will not.

Ang.

Well; the matter? Isab. I have a brother is condemnn'd to die : I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother.

Prev.

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.

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, entreat 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.

Ib.

Must he needs die?

Ang. Maiden, no remedy.

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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 sentenced; 'tis too late. Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isab. 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, be gone.

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

Lucio. [Aside.] Ay, touch him: there's the vein.
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 judgement, should
But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips
Like man new made.

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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 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 dics to-morrow; be content.

Isab. So you must be the first, that gives the sen

tence;

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 thun-
-Merciful heaven!
[der,

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,
Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the soft myrtle ;-0, 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.

Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent.
He's coming, I perceiv't.

Prov.

Pray heaven, she win him! 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 choleric 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 skims 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-morrow. Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you: Good my lord, turn back.

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Shall we desire to raise the sanctuary,
And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!
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,

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 Prevost.

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.

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

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Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects; heaven hath my empty words; Whilst my intention, 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.

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1sab.

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?

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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,
Than that a sister, by redeeming him,

Should die forever.

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72

Ang. We are all frail. Isab.

Else let my brother die, If not a feodary, but only he, Owe, and succeed by weakness.

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Ang.

Nay, women are frail too.

Isab. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves; 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 entreat you speak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.

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

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

To pluck on others.

Ang. Believe me, on mine honour,

My words express my purpose.

Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd,

ACT III.

SCENE I-A Room in the Prison. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost.

. Duke.

SO, then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo? Clau. 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 runn'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 val

iant;

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 thou exist'st on many a thousand grains

That issue out of dust: Happy thou art not:

For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;

And most pernicious purpose !-Seeming, seeming - And what thou hast forgett'st: Thou art not certain ?

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. 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 over-weigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun ;
And now I give my sensual race the rein:
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,
But 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.

leab. 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.

For thy complexion shifts to strange effects
After the moon: If thou art rich, thou art 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

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