POMPEY.

Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to prison; and there's Madam Juliet.

(Exeunt.)

(Enter Provost, Claudio, Juliet, & Officers.)

CLAUDIO.

Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world?
Bear me to prison where I am committed.

PROVOST.

I do it not in evil disposition,

But from Lord Angelo by special charge. CLAUDIO.

Thus can the demigod Authority

Make us pay down for our offence by weight

The words of heaven;-on whom it will, it will;

On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.

LUCIO.

(Re-enter Lucio & two Gentlemen.)

Why, how now, Claudio! whence comes this restraint? CLAUDIO.

From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty:
As surfeit is the father of much fast,
So every scope by the immoderate use
Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue,
Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,
A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die.
LUCIO.

If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors: and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment. What's thy offence, Claudio?

CLAUDIO.

What but to speak of would offend again. LUCIO.

What, is 't murder?

CLAUDIO.

No.

LUCIO.

Lechery?

CLAUDIO.

Call it so.

PROVOST.

Away, sir! you must go.

CLAUDIO.

One word, good friend.-Lucio, a word with you.

LUCIO.

A hundred, if they 'll do you any good.
Is lechery so look'd after?

CLAUDIO.

Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract
I got possession of Julietta's bed:

You know the lady; she is fast my wife,
Save that we do the denunciation lack
Of outward order: this we came not to,
Only for propagation of a dower

Remaining in the coffer of her friends;

From whom we thought it meet to hide our love Till time had made them for us. But it chances The stealth of our most mutual entertainment With character too gross is writ on Juliet. LUCIO.

With child, perhaps?

CLAUDIO.

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 stagger in:-but this new governor
Awakes me all the enrolled penalties

Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall

So long, that nineteen zodiacs 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 tickle on thy shoulders, that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the Duke, and appeal to him.

CLAUDIO.

I have done so, but he's not to be found.
I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service:
This day my sister should the cloister enter
And there receive her approbation:
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 prone and speechless dialect,

Such as moves men; beside, she hath prosperous art
When she will play with reason and discourse,
And well she can persuade.

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. CLAUDIO.

I thank you, good friend Lucio. LUCIO.

Within two hours.

CLAUDIO.

Come, officer, away! (Exeunt.)

SCENE III. 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
Το give me secret harbour, hath a purpose

More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
Of burning youth.

FRIAR THOMAS.

DUKE.

May your grace speak of it?

My holy sir, none better knows than you
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.

FRIAR THOMAS.
Gladly, my lord.
DUKE.

We have strict statutes and most biting laws,
The needful bits and curbs to headstrong weeds,
Which for this fourteen years we have let slip;
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.

FRIAR THOMAS.

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.

Therefore, indeed, my 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 fight

To do in slander. And to behold his sway,

I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,

Visit both prince and people: therefore, I prithee,
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me

How I may formally in person bear me
Like a true friar. Moe 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.

(Exeunt.)

Enter Isabella and

SCENE IV. A nunnery.

Francisca.

ISABELLA.

And have you nuns no farther privileges? FRANCISCA.

Are not these large enough?

ISABELLA.

Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more;

But rather wishing a more strict restraint
Upon the sisterhood,

The votarists of Saint Clare.

LUCIO.(Within.)

Ho! Peace be in this place!

ISABELLA.

FRANCISCA.

Who's that which calls?

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.

ISABELLA.

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?
ISABELLA.

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

(Exit.)