text stringlengths 1 3.08k |
|---|
ANGELO: Hark, how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses! |
ESCALUS: Such a fellow is not to be talked withal. Away with him to prison! Where is the provost? Away with him to prison! lay bolts enough upon him: let him speak no more. Away with those giglots too, and with the other confederate companion! |
DUKE VINCENTIO: |
ANGELO: What, resists he? Help him, Lucio. |
LUCIO: Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you! show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! Will't not off? |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Thou art the first knave that e'er madest a duke. First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. Sneak not away, sir; for the friar and you Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him. |
LUCIO: This may prove worse than hanging. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: |
ANGELO: O my dread lord, I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible, When I perceive your grace, like power divine, Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession: Immediate sentence then and sequent death Is all... |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Come hither, Mariana. Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? |
ANGELO: I was, my lord. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. Do you the office, friar; which consummate, Return him here again. Go with him, provost. |
ESCALUS: My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour Than at the strangeness of it. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince: as I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney'd at your service. |
ISABELLA: O, give me pardon, That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty! |
DUKE VINCENTIO: You are pardon'd, Isabel: And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart; And you may marvel why I obscured myself, Labouring to save his life, and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid, It was the... |
ISABELLA: I do, my lord. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,-- Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,-- ... |
MARIANA: O my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life And choke your good to come; for his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you wit... |
MARIANA: O my dear lord, I crave no other, nor no better man. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Never crave him; we are definitive. |
MARIANA: Gentle my liege,-- |
DUKE VINCENTIO: You do but lose your labour. Away with him to death! Now, sir, to you. |
MARIANA: O my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I'll lend you all my life to do you service. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Against all sense you do importune her: Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror. |
MARIANA: Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all. They say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad: so may my husband. O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? |
DUKE VINCENTIO: He dies for Claudio's death. |
ISABELLA: Most bounteous sir, Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my brother lived: I partly think A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, Till he did look on me: since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died: For Angelo, His act did not o'ertake hi... |
MARIANA: Merely, my lord. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say. I have bethought me of another fault. Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour? |
Provost: It was commanded so. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Had you a special warrant for the deed? |
Provost: No, my good lord; it was by private message. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: For which I do discharge you of your office: Give up your keys. |
Provost: Pardon me, noble lord: I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; Yet did repent me, after more advice; For testimony whereof, one in the prison, That should by private order else have died, I have reserved alive. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: What's he? |
Provost: His name is Barnardine. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. |
ESCALUS: I am sorry, one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood. And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. |
ANGELO: I am sorry that such sorrow I procure: And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart That I crave death more willingly than mercy; 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Which is that Barnardine? |
Provost: This, my lord. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: There was a friar told me of this man. Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul. That apprehends no further than this world, And squarest thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd: But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all; And pray thee take this mercy to provide For better times to come. Friar, ... |
Provost: This is another prisoner that I saved. Who should have died when Claudio lost his head; As like almost to Claudio as himself. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: |
LUCIO: 'Faith, my lord. I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipt. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Whipt first, sir, and hanged after. Proclaim it, provost, round about the city. Is any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow, As I have heard him swear himself there's one Whom he begot with child, let her appear, And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipt and hang'd. |
LUCIO: I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore. Your highness said even now, I made you a duke: good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison; And see our pleasure herein executed. |
LUCIO: Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Slandering a prince deserves it. She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo: I have confess'd her and I know her virtue. Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: There's more behind that is more gratulate. Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy:... |
SLY: I'll pheeze you, in faith. |
Hostess: A pair of stocks, you rogue! |
SLY: Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa! |
Hostess: You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? |
SLY: No, not a denier. Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. |
Hostess: I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third--borough. |
SLY: Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, and kindly. |
Lord: Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd; And couple Clowder with the deep--mouth'd brach. Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault? I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. |
First Huntsman: Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; He cried upon it at the merest loss And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: Trust me, I take him for the better dog. |
Lord: Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet, I would esteem him worth a dozen such. But sup them well and look unto them all: To-morrow I intend to hunt again. |
First Huntsman: I will, my lord. |
Lord: What's here? one dead, or drunk? See, doth he breathe? |
Second Huntsman: He breathes, my lord. Were he not warm'd with ale, This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. |
Lord: O monstrous beast! how like a swine he lies! Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, A most delicious banquet by his bed, And brave attendants near him when he wa... |
First Huntsman: Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. |
Second Huntsman: It would seem strange unto him when he waked. |
Lord: Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. Then take him up and manage well the jest: Carry him gently to my fairest chamber And hang it round with all my wanton pictures: Balm his foul head in warm distilled waters And burn sweet wood to make the lodging sweet: Procure me music ready when he wakes, To make a... |
First Huntsman: My lord, I warrant you we will play our part, As he shall think by our true diligence He is no less than what we say he is. |
Lord: Take him up gently and to bed with him; And each one to his office when he wakes. Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds: Belike, some noble gentleman that means, Travelling some journey, to repose him here. How now! who is it? |
Servant: An't please your honour, players That offer service to your lordship. |
Lord: Bid them come near. Now, fellows, you are welcome. |
Players: We thank your honour. |
Lord: Do you intend to stay with me tonight? |
A Player: So please your lordship to accept our duty. |
Lord: With all my heart. This fellow I remember, Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son: 'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well: I have forgot your name; but, sure, that part Was aptly fitted and naturally perform'd. |
A Player: I think 'twas Soto that your honour means. |
Lord: 'Tis very true: thou didst it excellent. Well, you are come to me in a happy time; The rather for I have some sport in hand Wherein your cunning can assist me much. There is a lord will hear you play to-night: But I am doubtful of your modesties; Lest over-eyeing of his odd behavior,-- For yet his honour never he... |
A Player: Fear not, my lord: we can contain ourselves, Were he the veriest antic in the world. |
Lord: Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery, And give them friendly welcome every one: Let them want nothing that my house affords. Sirrah, go you to Barthol'mew my page, And see him dress'd in all suits like a lady: That done, conduct him to the drunkard's chamber; And call him 'madam,' do him obeisance. Tell him from ... |
SLY: For God's sake, a pot of small ale. |
First Servant: Will't please your lordship drink a cup of sack? |
Second Servant: Will't please your honour taste of these conserves? |
Third Servant: What raiment will your honour wear to-day? |
SLY: I am Christophero Sly; call not me 'honour' nor 'lordship:' I ne'er drank sack in my life; and if you give me any conserves, give me conserves of beef: ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear; for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, sometimes more feet tha... |
Lord: Heaven cease this idle humour in your honour! O, that a mighty man of such descent, Of such possessions and so high esteem, Should be infused with so foul a spirit! |
SLY: What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly, old Sly's son of Burtonheath, by birth a pedlar, by education a cardmaker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she know me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score ... |
Third Servant: O, this it is that makes your lady mourn! |
Second Servant: O, this is it that makes your servants droop! |
Lord: Hence comes it that your kindred shuns your house, As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. O noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth, Call home thy ancient thoughts from banishment And banish hence these abject lowly dreams. Look how thy servants do attend on thee, Each in his office ready at thy beck. Wilt thou ha... |
First Servant: Say thou wilt course; thy greyhounds are as swift As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe. |
Second Servant: Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight Adonis painted by a running brook, And Cytherea all in sedges hid, Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, Even as the waving sedges play with wind. |
Lord: We'll show thee Io as she was a maid, And how she was beguiled and surprised, As lively painted as the deed was done. |
Third Servant: Or Daphne roaming through a thorny wood, Scratching her legs that one shall swear she bleeds, And at that sight shall sad Apollo weep, So workmanly the blood and tears are drawn. |
Lord: Thou art a lord, and nothing but a lord: Thou hast a lady far more beautiful Than any woman in this waning age. |
First Servant: And till the tears that she hath shed for thee Like envious floods o'er-run her lovely face, She was the fairest creature in the world; And yet she is inferior to none. |
SLY: Am I a lord? and have I such a lady? Or do I dream? or have I dream'd till now? I do not sleep: I see, I hear, I speak; I smell sweet savours and I feel soft things: Upon my life, I am a lord indeed And not a tinker nor Christophero Sly. Well, bring our lady hither to our sight; And once again, a pot o' the smalle... |
Second Servant: Will't please your mightiness to wash your hands? O, how we joy to see your wit restored! O, that once more you knew but what you are! These fifteen years you have been in a dream; Or when you waked, so waked as if you slept. |
SLY: These fifteen years! by my fay, a goodly nap. But did I never speak of all that time? |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.