Claud. Unhappily, even so. And the new deputy now for the duke, Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness; A horse where on the governor doth ride, Or in his eminence that fills it up, I stagger in:-But this new governor 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, I have great hope in that: for in her youth Such as moves men; beside, she hath prosperous art 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. § Prompt. Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio. Claud. Come, officer, away. [Exeunt. 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 More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends 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, (A man of strictures, and firm abstinence), My absolute power and place here in Vienna, 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 over-grown lion in a cave, * Completely armed. Showy dress resides, + Retired. Strictness. That goes not out to prey: now, as fond fathers Becomes more mock'd, than fear'd: so our decrees, The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Fri. It rested in your grace To unloose this tied-up justice, when you pleas'd: And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd, Than in lord Angelo. Duke. I do fear, too dreadful: Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 'Twould be my tyranny to strike, and gall them For what I bid them do: for we bid this be done, When evil deeds have their permissive pass, And not the punishment. father, Therefore, indeed, my 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, [Exeunt. * Since. + On his defence. SCENE V. A nunnery. Enter Isabella and Francisca. 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 sister-hood, the votarists of saint Clare. Lucio. Ho! peace be in this place! [Within. Isab. Then, if you speak, you must not show your face; [Erit 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, A novice of this place, and the fair sister To her unhappy brother Claudio? Isab. Why her unhappy brother? let me ask; The rather, for I now must make you know I am that Isabella, and his sister. Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you: Not to be weary with you, he's in prison. Isab. Woe me! For what? Lucio. For that, which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks : Isab. Sir, make me not your story*. It is true. I would not-though 'tis my familiar sin As with a saint. 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, Isab. Some one with child by him?-My cousin Lucio. Is she your cousin? Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names, By vain though apt affection. Isab. O, let him marry her! She it is. This is the point. The duke is very strangely gone from hence; * Do not make a jest of me. + In few and true words. Tilling. Breeding plenty. |