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 eifect of your own purpose,
Whether you had not, sometime 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
Guiltier, than him they try. What's open made to jus-
That justice seizes. What know the laws,
tice,
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 miue 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. See, that Claudio

Be executed by nine to-morrow morning:

Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar'd!

For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. [Exit Provost.
Escal. Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all!
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, etc. 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; I 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. Ifit 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?

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 twoin the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes. Escal. Goto, goto; 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.

Clo. Very well: you being then, if you be remember'd, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes.

Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed.

Clo. Why, very well: I 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 noless: good morrow to your lord-
ship.-
[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?

woman,

Good master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose:- doth your honour mark his face? Escal. Ay, sir, very well.

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.

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 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' the 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: - Thon seest, thou wicked varlet now, what's come upon thee; thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to

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 andhanging.

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 threepence 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 Caesar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so for this time, Pompey, fare you well! Clo. I thank your worship for your good counsel; but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune shall better

continue.

Froth. Yes, and't please you, sir.

Elb. Faith, sir, few of any witin 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

Clo. Atapster; a poor widow's tapster.

Elb. To your worship's house, sir?

Escal. Your mistress's name?

Escal. To my house. Fare you well! - [Exit Elbow.

Clo. Mistress Over-done.

What's o'clock, think you?

Escal. Hathshe 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; norit shall not be allowed in Vienna.

Clo. Does your worship mean to geld and spay all the

youths in the city?

Escal. No, Pompey.

Just. Eleven, sir.

Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me.

Just. I humbly thank you.

Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio; but

there's no remedy.

Just. Lord Angelo is severe.

Escal. It is but needful:

Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so;
Pardon is still the nurse of second woe:

But yet, -poor Claudio! - There's no remedy.
Come, sir!

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.- Another room in the same.
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: alas,
He hath but as offended in a dream!
All sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he
To die for it!-

Enter ANGELO.

Ang. Now, what's the matter, provost?

Prov. Is it your will, Claudio shall die to-morrow? 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!

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,

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! Even for our kitchens
We kill the fowl of season; shall we serve heaven
With less respect, than we do minister

To our gross selves? 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:

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 dies to-morrow: be content!

Isab. So you must be the first, that gives this sentence, And he, that suffers. O, it is excellent

To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous,

Lucio. That's well said.

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 fine the faults, whose fine stands in record,

And let go by the actor.

Isab. Ojust, but severelaw!

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 use it like a giant.

As mine is to him?

Ang. He's sentenc'd; 'tis too late.

Lucio. You are too cold.

Drest in a little brief authorithy,

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 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; moreo' 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. She speaks, and 'tis

Hath blister'd herreport: she is with child;

well!

More fit to do another such offence,

Ang. How! bribe me?

I have provided for you; stay a while, [To Juliet. And you shall be conducted.

Lucio. You had marr'd all else.

Isab. Not with fond 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 To nothing temporal.

Ang. Well: come to me

To-morrow!

Juliet. I do; and bear the shame most patiently.

Duke. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your con

Lucio. Goto; it is well; away.
Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe!

Ang. Amen: forI

Am that way going to temptation,

Where prayers cross.

Isab. At what hour to-morrow

[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! Notshe; nordoth she tempt: but it is I,

That lying by the violet, in the sun,

Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be,

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.

Duke. There rest.

Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him.Grace go with you! Benedicite!

[Exit.

Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love,

That respites me a life, whose very comfort
Is still a dying horror!

Prov. "Tis pity of him.

SCENE IV. - A room in Angelo's house.

Enter ANGELO.

[Exeunt.

That modesty may more betray our sense,
Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground

enough,

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary,

And pitch our evils there? O, fy, fy, fy!

What dost thou? or what art thou, Angelo? Dost thou desire her foully, for those things That make her good? O, let her brotherlive:

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;

Thieves for their robbery have authority,

And in my heart the strong and swelling evil

Isab. How say you?

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak Agaiust 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 poize of sin and charity.

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin,

Heaven, let me beariť! 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.

Ang. Nay, but hear me:

Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant, 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 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 wearas 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. Werenot 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 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 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 notongue butone: gentle mylord, Let me entreat you speak the former language! Ang. Plainly conceive, Ilove 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,
To pluck 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, seeming!
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,

Or, with an ontstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art!