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How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd;
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies,
Where youth and cost, and witless bravery keeps.
I have deliver'd to lord Angelo

(A man of stricture and firm abstinence)
My absolute power and place here in Vienna,
And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;
For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,
And so it is receiv'd: Now, pious sir,
You will demand of me, why I do this?
Fri. Gladly, my lord.

Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting

laws,

(The needful bits and curbs for head-strong steeds,)
Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep;
Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,
That goes not out to prey: Now, as fond fathers
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch,
Only to stick it in their children's sight,
For terror, not to use; in time the rod

Becomes more mock'd than fear'd: so our decrees,
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
And liberty plucks justice by the nose;
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum.

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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 guard with envy; scarce confesses
That his blood flows, or that his appetite

Is more to bread than stone: Hence shall we see,
If power change purpose, what our seemers be.

SCENE V. - A Nunnery.

Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA.

[Exeunt.

Isab. And have you nuns no further privileges? Fran. Are not these large enough? Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more; But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of saint Clare. Lucio. Ho! Peace be in this place! [Within. Isab. Who's that which calls? Fran. It is a man's voice: Gentle Isabella, Turn you the key, and know his business of him; You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn: 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.

[Exit FRANCISCA. Isab. Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls? Enter LUCIO.

Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be ; as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less! Can you so stead me, As bring me to the sight of Isabella,

A novice of this place, and the fair sister
To her unhappy brother Claudio?

The rather, for I now must make you know
Isab. Why her unhappy brother? let me ask;
I am that Isabella, and his sister.

Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets

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The duke is very strangely gone from hence;
In hand, and hope of action: but we do learn
Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,
By those that know the very nerves of state,
His givings out were of an infinite distance
From his true-meant design. Upon his place,
And with full line of his authority,
Governs lord Angelo; a man, whose blood
Is very snow-broth; one who never feels
The wanton stings and motions of the sense;
But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge
With profits of the mind, study and fast.
He (to give fear to use and liberty,
Which have, for long, run by the hideous law,
As mice by lions,) hath pick'd out an act,
Under whose heavy sense your brother's life
Falls into forfeit ! he arrests him on it;
And follows close the rigour of the statute,
To make him an example: all hope is gone,
Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer
To soften Angelo: And that's my pith
Of business 'twixt you and your poor brother.
Isab. Doth he so seek his life?

Lucio.
Has censur'd him
Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath
A warrant for his execution.

Isab. Alas! what poor ability's in me To do him good?

1 Do not make a jest of me.

2 In few and true words.

3 Sentenced,

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Whom I would save, had a most noble father.
Let but your honour know,

(Whom I believe to be most straight in virtue,)
That, in the working of your own affections,
Had time coher'd with place, or place with wishing,
Or that the resolute acting of your blood
Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose,
Whether you had not some time in your life
Err'd in this point which now you censure him,
And pull'd the law upon you.

Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus,

Another thing to fall. I not deny,

The jury, passing on the prisoner's life,
May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two

Enter Provost and a Servant.

Serv. He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight.

I'll tell him of you.

Prov. Pray you, do. [Exit Servant.] I'll know his pleasure; may be, he will relent:

Ang.

Enter ANGELO.

Now, what's the matter, Provost ? Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow?

Ang. Did I not tell thee, yea? hadst thou not order?

Why dost thou ask again?

Prov.

Lest I might be too rash: Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom.

Ang. Go to; let that be mine: Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spar'd.

Prov.

I crave your honour's pardon. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet ? She's very near her hour.

Ang.

Dispose of her

Guiltier than him they try: What's open made to To some more fitter place; and that with speed.

justice,

That justice seizes. What know the laws,

That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant,
The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it,
Because we see it; but what we do not see,

We tread upon, and never think of it.
You may not so extenuate his offence,

For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,
When I that censure him, do so offend,
Let mine own judgment pattern out my death,
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.
Escal. Be it as your wisdom will.
Ang.
Where is the provost?
Prov. Here, if it like your honour.
Ang.

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See that Claudio

Enter LUCIO and ISABELLA, Prov. Save your honour!

Be executed by nine to-morrow morning :
Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared:
For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage.

[Exeunt ANGELO and Provost.

Escal. Well, heaven forgive him; and forgive

us all!

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[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.

Well; what's your suit?

Ang. 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.

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 cipher of a function,
To find the faults, whose fine stands in record,
And let go by the actor.
Isab.

Well; the matter? | 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.
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;

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, 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 beaven, 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,
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!

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
But 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-morrow.
Isab. To-morrow? O, that's sudden ! Spare him,
spare him:

He's not prepar'd for death!

Good, good my lord, bethink you :

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:

Yet show some pity.

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Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt,
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled 7 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.

Luc. 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 yourself: 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 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.

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: --

morrow.

Come again to

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Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be,

That modesty may more betray our sense

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Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
And I am going with instruction to him.

Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground Grace go with you! Benedicite!

enough,

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,

And pitch our evils there? O, fye, fye, fye!
What dost thou? or what art thou, Angelo?
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
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.

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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 needful.

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[Exit.

Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love, That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror! Prov.

SCENE IV.

'Tis pity of him. [Exeunt.

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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 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?

Enter Servant.
How now, who's there?
Serv.

One Isabel, a sister, Teach her the way. [Exit Serv.

Desires access to you. Ang.

O heavens!

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 2, subject to a well-wish'd king,
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love
Must needs appear offence.

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Enter ISABELLA.

How now, fair maid?
Isab.
I am come to know your pleasure.
Ang. That you might know it, would much
better please me,

Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.
Isab. Even so? - Heaven keep your honour!

[Retiring.
Ang. Yet may he live a while; and, it may be
As long as you or I: Yet he must die.
Isab. Under your sentence?

Ang. Yea.

Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted,

This 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

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 person
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 honour 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

Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image, That you have slander'd so?
In stamps that are forbid.

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

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.

Please you to do't,
I'll take it as a peril to my soul,
It is no sin at all, but charity.

Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul,
Were equal poise 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 morn prayer
To have it added to the faults of mine,
And nothing of your answer.

Nay, but hear me :
either you are igno-

Ang.
Your sense pursues not mine:
rant,
Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good.
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 3 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 tnat, nor any other,
But in the loss of question,) that you, his sister,
Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,

3 Covered.

Isab. Ignomy 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.

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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 licence in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is,

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