O, heavens! it cannot be. ISAB. Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence,

So to offend him still. This night's the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou diest to-morrow.

CLAUD. Thou shalt not do't.

CLAUD. Yes.-Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the

nose,

When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.

ISAB. Which is the least?

CLAUD. If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably fin'd?-O Isabel! ISAB. What says my brother? CLAUD.

Death is a fearful thing.

ISAB. And shamed life a hateful.
CLAUD. Ay, but to die, and go we know not

where ;

To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thoughts*
Imagine howling!-'tis too horrible!
The weariest and most loathed worldly life,
That age, ache, penury.† and imprisonment

O, you beast!

ISAB.
O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
Is't not a kind of incest, to take life

From thine own sister's shame? What should I think?

Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness
Ne'er issu'd from his blood. Take my defiance;
Die perish! might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,-
No word to save thee.

CLAUD. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
ISAB.

O, fie, fie, fie!

ISAB. What is your will?

DUKE. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit.

ISAB. I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you a while.

DUKE. [Aside to CLAUDIO.] Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; only he hath made an assay of her virtue, to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures: she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible: to-morrow you must die; go to your knees, and make ready.

CLAUD. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.

A Wilderness-] Wildness. Wilderness in this sense is met with in any of the old poets.

PROV. In good time.

[Exit Provost.

DUKE. The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good: the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother?

ISAB. I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my brother die by the law, than my son should be unlawfully born. But O, how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government.

DUKE. That shall not be much amiss; yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation, he made trial of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings: to the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe, that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious person; and much please the absent duke, if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing of this business.

your

ISAB. Let me hear you speak further. I have spirit to do any thing that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.

DUKE. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick the great soldier who miscarried at sea?

ISAB. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.

DUKE. She should this Angelo have married was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befel to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage

(*) First folio omits, by.

dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.

ISAB. Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her?

DUKE. Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour: in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake, and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not.

ISAB. What a merit were it this poor maid from the world! in this life, that it will let this how out of this can she avail?

in death to take What corruption man live!-But

DUKE. It is a rupture that you may easily heal; and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. ISAB. Show me how, good father.

DUKE. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience: agree with his demands to the point ; only refer yourself to this advantage,-first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. This being granted, in course and now follows all ::-we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense; and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this, as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?

ISAB. The image of it gives me content already; and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.

DUKE. It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to Saint Luke's; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana: at that place call upon me, and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.

ISAB. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. [Exeunt severally.

a Combinate husband,-] Elected or contracted husband. b And the corrupt deputy scaled.] It is doubtful whether scaled in this place signifies siripped and exposed, or reached, or brought to justice by being metaphorically weighed. It may be indeed only a misprint for sealed, in the sense of stamped, as in "Richard III." Act I. Sc. 3:

"Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity

The slave of nature," &c.

SCENE II.-The Street before the Prison.

Enter on one side, DUKE, disguised as before; on the other, ELBOW, and Officers with POMPEY.

ELB. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.

DUKE. O, heavens! what stuff is here?

Poм. 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.

ELB. Come your way, sir.-Bless you, good

father friar!

DUKE. And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir?

ELB. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we have sent to the deputy.

DUKE. Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live. Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,-From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array* myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend. POм. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove

DUKE. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,

Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison,

officer:

Correction and instruction must both work,
Ere this rude beast will profit.

ELB. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his

errand.

DUKE. That we were all, as some would seem to be,

(*) Old text, away.

e Scene II.] In the old copies no change of scene is indicated, they merely give "Exit" [Isabella]; and when she has left the stage, the audience, as Mr. Dyce observes, were to suppose that the scene changed from the interior to the outside of the prison.

LUCIO. How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Cæsar! Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it+ clutched? What reply, ha? What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drowned i' the last rain, ha? What say'st thou, trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The trick of it?

DUKE. Still thus, and thus; still worse ! LUCIO. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, ha!

Poм. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.

LUCIO. Why, 'tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd: an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey? POм. Yes, faith, sir.

LUCIO. Why, 't is not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how?

ELB. For being a bawd, for being a bawd.

LUCIO. Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right: bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawdborn. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.

POм. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail.

LUCIO. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. -Bless you, friar.

DUKE. And you.

LUCIO. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? ELB. Come your ways, sir; come.

Poм. You will not bail me then, sir? Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now. What news abroad, friar? what news?

ELB. Come your ways, sir; come. LUCIO. Go,-to kennel, Pompey, go. [Exeunt ELBOW, and Officers, with POMPEY. What news, friar, of the duke?

DUKE. I know none; can you tell me of any? LUCIO. Some say he is with the emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?

DUKE. I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well.

LUCIO. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to't.

DUKE. He does well in't.

Lucro. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar.

DUKE. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.

LUCIO. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say, this Angelo was not made by man and woman, after this downright way of creation: is it true, think you?

DUKE. How should he be made, then? LUCIO. Some report, a sea-maid spawned him: some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain, that when he makes water, his urine is congealed ice: that I know to be true ; and he is a motion ungenerative," that's infallible.

DUKE. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. LUCIO. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece to take away the life of a man! Would the duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.

DUKE. I never heard the absent duke much detected for women: he was not inclined that way. Lucio. O, sir! you are deceived.

DUKE. Tis not possible.

LUCIO. Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too; that let me inform you. DUKE. You do him wrong, surely.

a A motion ungenerative,-] The old text has,-" a motion generalive," corrected by Theobald.

b Detected for women:] That is, accused on account of women. An inward-] A familiar, an intimate.

C

LUCIO. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the duke; and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing.

DUKE. What, I pr'ythee, might be the cause? LUCIO. No, pardon :-'tis a secret must be locked within the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you understand,-the greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise.

DUKE. Wise! why, no question but he was. LUCIO. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.

DUKE. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking: the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore, you speak unskilfully or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darkened in your malice.

LUCIO. Sir, I know him, and I love him. DUKE. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer* love.

LUCIO. Come, sir, I know what I know.

DUKE. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return (as our prayers are he may), let me desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it I am bound to call upon you; and, I pray you, your name?

LUCIO. Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke.

DUKE. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you.

Lucio. I fear you not.

DUKE. O, you hope the duke will return no more, or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm; you'll foreswear this again.

Lucio. I'll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no?

DUKE. Why should he die, sir?

LUCIO. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun-dish.a I would the duke we talk of, were returned again: this ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light: would he were returned! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I pr'ythee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again,

(*) Old text, deare.

d A tun-dish.] An old Warwickshire name for a funnel.