[all!

Escal. Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us 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, Froth, Clown, Officers, &c. Elb. Come, bring them away if these be good people in a common-weal, that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law; bring them away.

Ang. How now, sir! What's your name? and what's the matter?

Elb. If it please your honour, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow; 1 do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here 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?

Clo. Very well: you being then, if you be remem ber'd, cracking the stones of the aforesaid prunes.

Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed.

Clo. Why, very well: 1 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. Escal. 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 Hallowmas-Was't not at Hallowmas, master Froth ?

Froth. All-hollond 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?

Clo. Once, sir? there was nothing done to her

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 her? 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

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. Ay, sir, very well.

Clo. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. Escal. We 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

Escal. By the woman's means?

Elb. Ay, sir, by mistress Over-done'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 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

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.

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 Ini quity PIs this true?

Elb. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! thou wicked Hannibal 1 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

Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; You are too cold if you should need a pin,

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,
For every pelting, petty officer,
Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but
Merciful heaven!
[thunder.

Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,

To him, I say.

Isab. Must he needs die ?

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!

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 fantastick 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 perceive'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 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

What dost thou? or what art thou, Angelo? (

in

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,
[her,
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,

To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood:

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.

Enter Servant.

How now, who's there? Serv.

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

Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father. [his. Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent,

As that the sin hath brought you to this shame,Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven;

Showing, we'd not spare heaven, as we love it,
But as we stand in fear,-

Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil;

And take the shame with joy.

Desires access to you. Ang.

O heavens!

One Isabel, a sister,

Teach her the way. [Exit Serv.

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart:
Making both it unable for itself,

And dispossessing all the other parts

Of necessary fitness ?

So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;
Come all to help him, and so stop the air
By which he should revive and even so
The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Croud to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.

That his soul sicken not.

Ang. Ha! Fye, these filthy vices! It were as good

To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen
A man already made, as to remit

Their sawcy 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.

Isab. "Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
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 I sa say. Answer to this;I, now the voice of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life:

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 for ever.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence

That you have slander'd so?

Isab. Ignominy in ransom, and free pardon,

Are of two houses: lawful mercy is
Nothing akin 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 franies,) let me be bold; I do arrest your words; Be that you are,

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 overweigh,

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 tomorrow,
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.

1

Exit.

Isab. To whom shall I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, That bears 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

That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none; If you be one, (as you are well express'd

Are nurs'd by baseness Thou art by no means valiant;

For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork