Claud. Unhappily, even so. And the new deputy now for the duke, Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness; Or whether that the body public be A horse whereon the governor doth ride, Who, newly in the seat, that it may know He can command, lets it straight feel the spur: Whether the tyranny be in his place, Or in his eminence that fills it up, I staggerin :- But this new governor Awakes me all the enrolled penalties, Which have, like uuscour'd armour, hung by the wall So long, that nineteen zodiacks* have gone round, And none of them been worn; and, for a name, Now puts the drowsy and neglected act Freshly on me:-'tis surely for a name. Lucio. I warrant it is : and thy head stands so ticklet on thy shoulders, that a milk-maid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke, and appeal to him. Claud. I have done so, but he's not to be found. I pr’ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service: This day my sister should the cloister enter, And there receive her approbationi: Acquaint her with the danger of my state ; Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him ; I have great hope in that: for in her youth There is a proneg and speechless dialect, Such as moves men; beside, she hath prosperous art When she will play with reason and discourse. Lucio. I pray she may: as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition; as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her. * Yearly circles. + Ticklish. | Enter on her probationi Prompt. Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio. [Ereunt. SCENE IV. A monastery. Enter Duke and Friar Thomas. Duke. No; holy father; throw away that thought; Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete bosom*: why I desire thee To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled thau the aims and ends Of burning youth. Fri. May your grace speak of it? Duke. My holy sir,"none better knows than you How I have ever lov'd the life remov’dt; And held in idle price to haunt assemblies, Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keepsi , Fri. Gladly, my lord. laws (The needful bits and curbs for head-strong steeds), Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep; Even like an over-grown lion in a cavc, * Completely armed. + Retired. Strictness, That goes not out to prey: now, as fond fathers It rested in your grace I do fear, too dreadful: father, I have on Angelo impos'd the office; Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home, And yet my nature never in the sight, To do it slander: and to behold his sway, I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, Visit both prince and people: therefore, I pr’ythee, Supply me with the habit, and instruct me How I may formally in person bear me Like a true friar. More reasons for this action, At our more leisure shall I render you; Only, this one:-Lord Angelo is precise ; Stands at a guardt with envy; scarce confesses That his blood Aows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see, If power change purpose, what our seemers be. (Exeunt. SCENE V. A nunnery: Enter Isabella and Francisca. Isab. And have you runs no further privileges ? Fran. Are pot these large enough? Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more; But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the sister-hood, the votarists of saint Clare. Lucio. Ho! peace be in this place! [Within. Isab. Who's that which calls? Pran. It is a man's voice: gentle Isabella, Turn you the key, and know his business of him ; I may not; you are yet answorn : When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men, But in the presence of the prioress: Then, if you speak, you must not show your face; Or, if you show your face, you must not speak. He calls again ; I pray you answer him, [E.rit Francisca. Isab. Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls? You may, Enter Lucio, Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be; as those cheek. roses Proclaim you are no less! can you so stead me, Isab. Why her unhappy brother? let me ask; you: Not to be weary with you, he's in prison, Isab. Woe me! For what? judge, Isab. Sir, make me not your story*. It is true. Isab. You do blaspheme the good, in mocking me. Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and trutht,'tis thus : Your brother and his lover have embrac'd : As those that feed grow full; as blossoming time, That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foisont; even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilthg and husbandry. Isab. Some one with child by him ?--My cousin Juliet? Lucio. Is she your cousin ? Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names, She it is. This is the point. * Do not make a jest of me. Tilling. Breeding plenty. |