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ELBOW: To your worship's house, sir?
ESCALUS: To my house. Fare you well. What's o'clock, think you?
Justice: Eleven, sir.
ESCALUS: I pray you home to dinner with me.
Justice: I humbly thank you.
ESCALUS: It grieves me for the death of Claudio; But there's no remedy.
Justice: Lord Angelo is severe.
ESCALUS: 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 is no remedy. Come, sir.
Servant: He's hearing of a cause; he will come straight I'll tell him of you.
Provost: Pray you, do. 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't!
ANGELO: Now, what's the matter. Provost?
Provost: Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow?
ANGELO: Did not I tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again?
Provost: Lest I might be too rash: Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom.
ANGELO: Go to; let that be mine: Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spared.
Provost: I crave your honour's pardon. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? She's very near her hour.
ANGELO: Dispose of her To some more fitter place, and that with speed.
Servant: Here is the sister of the man condemn'd Desires access to you.
ANGELO: Hath he a sister?
Provost: Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already.
ANGELO: Well, let her be admitted. See you the fornicatress be removed: Let have needful, but not lavish, means; There shall be order for't.
Provost: God save your honour!
ANGELO: Stay a little while. You're welcome: what's your will?
ISABELLA: I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me.
ANGELO: Well; what's your suit?
ISABELLA: 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.
ANGELO: Well; the matter?
ISABELLA: I have a brother is condemn'd to die: I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother.
Provost:
ANGELO: 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 fine the faults whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor.
ISABELLA: O just but severe law! I had a brother, then. Heaven keep your honour!
LUCIO:
ISABELLA: Must he needs die?
ANGELO: Maiden, no remedy.
ISABELLA: Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.
ANGELO: I will not do't.
ISABELLA: But can you, if you would?
ANGELO: Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.
ISABELLA: 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?
ANGELO: He's sentenced; 'tis too late.
LUCIO:
ISABELLA: 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 h...
ANGELO: Pray you, be gone.
ISABELLA: 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:
ANGELO: Your brother is a forfeit of the law, And you but waste your words.
ISABELLA: 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.
ANGELO: Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I condemn your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow.
ISABELLA: To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him! He's not prepared 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 commi...
LUCIO:
ANGELO: The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept: Those many had not dared to do that evil, If the first 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 new, or by remissness new-conceiv...
ISABELLA: Yet show some pity.
ANGELO: 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.
ISABELLA: So you must be the first that gives this sentence, And he, that suffer's. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
LUCIO:
ISABELLA: Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder; Nothing but thunder! Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle: but man, proud man, Dr...
LUCIO:
Provost:
ISABELLA: 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 i' the right, girl; more o, that.
ISABELLA: That in the captain's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
LUCIO:
ANGELO: Why do you put these sayings upon me?
ISABELLA: 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 tongu...
ANGELO:
ISABELLA: Gentle my lord, turn back.
ANGELO: I will bethink me: come again tomorrow.
ISABELLA: Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back.
ANGELO: How! bribe me?
ISABELLA: Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.
LUCIO:
ISABELLA: 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.
ANGELO: Well; come to me to-morrow.
LUCIO:
ISABELLA: Heaven keep your honour safe!
ANGELO:
ISABELLA: At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship?
ANGELO: At any time 'fore noon.
ISABELLA: 'Save your honour!
ANGELO: 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! Not she: nor doth 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 That modesty may ...
DUKE VINCENTIO: Hail to you, provost! so I think you are.
Provost: I am the provost. What's your will, good friar?
DUKE VINCENTIO: Bound by my charity and my blest 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.
Provost: I would do more than that, if more were needful. Look, here comes one: a gentlewoman of mine, Who, falling in the flaws of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report: she is with child; And he that got it, sentenced; a young man More fit to do another such offence Than die for this.
DUKE VINCENTIO: When must he die?
Provost: As I do think, to-morrow. I have provided for you: stay awhile, And you shall be conducted.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry?
JULIET: I do; and bear the shame most patiently.
DUKE VINCENTIO: I'll teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, And try your penitence, if it be sound, Or hollowly put on.
JULIET: I'll gladly learn.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Love you the man that wrong'd you?
JULIET: Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.
DUKE VINCENTIO: So then it seems your most offenceful act Was mutually committed?
JULIET: Mutually.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.
JULIET: I do confess it, and repent it, father.
DUKE VINCENTIO: 'Tis meet so, daughter: but lest you do repent, As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is always towards ourselves, not heaven, Showing we would 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 VINCENTIO: There rest. Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him. Grace go with you, Benedicite!
JULIET: Must die to-morrow! O injurious love, That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror!