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twg_000000022100 | ANGELO. How now, sir, whats your name? And whats the matter? ELBOW. If it please your honour, I am the poor Dukes constable, and my name is Elbow. I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors. ANGELO. Benefactors? Well, what benefactors are they? Are they not malefactors? ELBOW. If it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022101 | please your honour, I know not well what they are, but precise villains they are, that I am sure of, and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have. ESCALUS. This comes off well. Heres a wise officer. ANGELO. Go to. What quality are they of? Elbow is your name? Why dost thou not speak, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022102 | Elbow? POMPEY. He cannot, sir. Hes out at elbow. ANGELO. What are you, sir? ELBOW. He, sir? A tapster, sir; parcel bawd; one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think is a very ill house too. ESCALUS. How know you that? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022103 | ELBOW. My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour ESCALUS. How? Thy wife? ELBOW. Ay, sir, whom I thank heaven is an honest woman ESCALUS. Dost thou detest her therefore? ELBOW. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawds house, it is pity of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022104 | her life, for it is a naughty house. ESCALUS. How dost thou know that, constable? ELBOW. Marry, sir, by my wife, who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there. ESCALUS. By the womans means? ELBOW. Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdones means; but as she spit in his face, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022105 | so she defied him. POMPEY. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. ELBOW. Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man, prove it. ESCALUS. [_To Angelo_.] Do you hear how he misplaces? POMPEY. Sir, she came in great with child; and longing, saving your honours reverence, for stewed prunes; sir, we had but two in the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022106 | house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit dish, a dish of some threepence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not china dishes, but very good dishes ESCALUS. Go to, go to. No matter for the dish, sir. POMPEY. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022107 | But to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; for, as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022108 | you know, Master Froth, I could not give you threepence again FROTH. No, indeed. POMPEY. Very well. You being then, if you be remembered, cracking the stones of the foresaid prunes FROTH. Ay, so I did indeed. POMPEY. Why, very well. I telling you then, if you be remembered, that such a one and such a one were past cure | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022109 | of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you FROTH. All this is true. POMPEY. Why, very well then ESCALUS. Come, you are a tedious fool. To the purpose. What was done to Elbows wife that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her. POMPEY. Sir, your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022110 | honour cannot come to that yet. ESCALUS. No, sir, nor I mean it not. POMPEY. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honours leave. And I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir, a man of fourscore pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmaswast not at Hallowmas, Master Froth? FROTH. All-hallond Eve. POMPEY. Why, very well. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022111 | I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sirtwas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you have a delight to sit, have you not? FROTH. I have so, because it is an open room, and good for winter. POMPEY. Why, very well then. I hope here be truths. ANGELO. This will last | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022112 | out a night in Russia When nights are longest there. Ill take my leave, And leave you to the hearing of the cause; Hoping youll find good cause to whip them all. ESCALUS. I think no less. Good morrow to your lordship. [_Exit Angelo._] Now, sir, come on. What was done to Elbows wife, once more? POMPEY. Once, sir? There | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022113 | was nothing done to her once. ELBOW. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife. POMPEY. I beseech your honour, ask me. ESCALUS. Well, sir, what did this gentleman to her? POMPEY. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentlemans face. Good Master Froth, look upon his honour; tis for a good purpose.Doth your honour | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022114 | mark his face? ESCALUS. Ay, sir, very well. POMPEY. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. ESCALUS. Well, I do so. POMPEY. Doth your honour see any harm in his face? ESCALUS. Why, no. POMPEY. Ill be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then, if his face be the worst thing about him, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022115 | how could Master Froth do the constables wife any harm? I would know that of your honour. ESCALUS. Hes in the right. Constable. What say you to it? ELBOW. First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman. POMPEY. By this hand, sir, his wife | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022116 | is a more respected person than any of us all. ELBOW. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet! The time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child. POMPEY. Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her. ESCALUS. Which is the wiser here, Justice or Iniquity? Is this true? ELBOW. O | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022117 | thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her before I was married to her? If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor Dukes officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or Ill have mine action of battery on thee. ESCALUS. If he took you a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022118 | box o th ear, you might have your action of slander too. ELBOW. Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What ist your worships pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff? ESCALUS. Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou knowst what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022119 | they are. ELBOW. Marry, I thank your worship for it.Thou seest, thou wicked varlet, now, whats come upon thee. Thou art to continue now, thou varlet, thou art to continue. ESCALUS. [_To Froth_.] Where were you born, friend? FROTH. Here in Vienna, sir. ESCALUS. Are you of fourscore pounds a year? FROTH. Yes, ant please you, sir. ESCALUS. So. [_To | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022120 | Pompey_.] What trade are you of, sir? POMPEY. A tapster, a poor widows tapster. ESCALUS. Your mistress name? POMPEY. Mistress Overdone. ESCALUS. Hath she had any more than one husband? POMPEY. Nine, sir; Overdone by the last. ESCALUS. Nine?Come hither to me, Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters; they will draw you, Master Froth, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022121 | and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you. FROTH. I thank your worship. For mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse but I am drawn in. ESCALUS. Well, no more of it, Master Froth. Farewell. [_Exit Froth._] Come you hither to me, Master tapster. Whats your name, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022122 | Master tapster? POMPEY. Pompey. ESCALUS. What else? POMPEY. Bum, sir. ESCALUS. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster, are you not? Come, tell me true, it shall be the better for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022123 | you. POMPEY. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live. ESCALUS. How would you live, Pompey? By being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? Is it a lawful trade? POMPEY. If the law would allow it, sir. ESCALUS. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022124 | POMPEY. Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city? ESCALUS. No, Pompey. POMPEY. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will tot then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds. ESCALUS. There is pretty orders beginning, I can tell you. It is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022125 | but heading and hanging. POMPEY. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, youll be glad to give out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, Ill rent the fairest house in it after threepence a bay. If you live to see this come to pass, say | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022126 | Pompey told you so. ESCALUS. Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you: I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever; no, not for dwelling where you do. If I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Caesar to you. In plain dealing, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022127 | Pompey, I shall have you whipped. So for this time, Pompey, fare you well. POMPEY. I thank your worship for your good counsel. [_Aside_.] But I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade; The valiant hearts not whipped out of his trade. [_Exit._] ESCALUS. Come hither to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022128 | me, Master Elbow. Come hither, Master Constable. How long have you been in this place of constable? ELBOW. Seven year and a half, sir. ESCALUS. I thought, by the readiness in the office, you had continued in it sometime. You say seven years together? ELBOW. And a half, sir. ESCALUS. Alas, it hath been great pains to you. They do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022129 | you wrong to put you so oft upont. Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it? ELBOW. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters. As they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all. ESCALUS. Look you bring me in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022130 | the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. ELBOW. To your worships house, sir? ESCALUS. To my house. Fare you well. [_Exit Elbow._] Whats oclock, 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 theres | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022131 | 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! Theres no remedy. Come, sir. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Another room in the same. Enter Provost and a Servant. SERVANT. Hes hearing of a cause. He will come straight. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022132 | Ill tell him of you. PROVOST. Pray you do. [_Exit Servant._] Ill 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! Enter Angelo. ANGELO. Now, whats the matter, Provost? PROVOST. Is it your will Claudio shall die tomorrow? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022133 | 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, judgement hath Repented oer his doom. ANGELO. Go to; let that be mine. Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022134 | spared. PROVOST. I crave your honours pardon. What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet? Shes very near her hour. ANGELO. Dispose of her To some more fitter place; and that with speed. Enter Servant. SERVANT. Here is the sister of the man condemned Desires access to you. ANGELO. Hath he a sister? PROVOST. Ay, my good lord, a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022135 | very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already. ANGELO. Well, let her be admitted. [_Exit Servant._] See you the fornicatress be removed; Let her have needful but not lavish means; There shall be order for it. Enter Lucio and Isabella. PROVOST. [_Offering to retire_.] Save your honour! ANGELO. Stay a little while. [_To Isabella_.] You | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022136 | are welcome. Whats your will? ISABELLA. I am a woeful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me. ANGELO. Well, whats 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022137 | but that I am At war twixt will and will not. ANGELO. Well, the matter? ISABELLA. I have a brother is condemned to die; I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother. PROVOST. Heaven give thee moving graces. ANGELO. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Why, every faults condemned ere it be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022138 | done. Mine were the very cipher of a function To find 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! [_Going._] LUCIO. [_To Isabella_.] Givet not oer so. To him again, entreat him, Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022139 | You are too cold. If you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it. To him, I say. 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 dot. ISABELLA. But can | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022140 | you if you would? ANGELO. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. ISABELLA. But might you dot, and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touched with that remorse As mine is to him? ANGELO. Hes sentenced, tis too late. LUCIO. [_To Isabella_.] You are too cold. ISABELLA. Too late? Why, no. I that do | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022141 | speak a word May call it back again. Well, believe this: No ceremony that to great ones longs, Not the kings crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshals truncheon, nor the judges robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. If he had been as you, and you as he, You would have slipped like | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022142 | him, but he like you Would not have been so stern. 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. [_Aside_.] Ay, touch him; theres the vein. ANGELO. Your brother is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022143 | 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 judgement, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022144 | mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made. ANGELO. Be you content, fair maid. It is the law, not I, condemns your brother. Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son, It should be thus with him. He must die tomorrow. ISABELLA. Tomorrow? O, thats sudden! Spare him, spare him! Hes not prepared for death. Even for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022145 | 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? Theres many have committed it. LUCIO. Ay, well said. ANGELO. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept. Those many | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022146 | had not dared to do that evil If the first that did th edict infringe Had answered 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 now, or by remissness new conceived, And so in progress to be hatched and born, Are now | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022147 | to have no successive degrees, But, where they live, to end. 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 dismissed offence would after gall, And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022148 | brother dies tomorrow; be content. ISABELLA. So you must be the first that gives this sentence, And he that suffers. O, it is excellent To have a giants strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. LUCIO. Thats well said. ISABELLA. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would neer be quiet, For every pelting | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022149 | petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder. Nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak, Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man, Dressed in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what hes most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape Plays such fantastic tricks before | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022150 | high heaven As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal. LUCIO. O, to him, to him, wench! He will relent; Hes coming. I perceive t. PROVOST. Pray heaven she win him. ISABELLA. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself. Great men may jest with saints; tis wit in them, But in the less, foul | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022151 | profanation. LUCIO. Thourt i th right, girl; more o that. ISABELLA. That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. LUCIO. Art advised o that? More ont. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022152 | the vice o th top. Go to your bosom, Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know Thats like my brothers fault. If it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brothers life. ANGELO. She speaks, and tis such sense That my sense breeds with it. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022153 | [_Going_.] Fare you well. ISABELLA. Gentle my lord, turn back. ANGELO. I will bethink me. Come again tomorrow. ISABELLA. Hark how Ill bribe you. Good my lord, turn back. ANGELO. How? Bribe me? ISABELLA. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. LUCIO. You had marred all else. ISABELLA. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold, Or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022154 | 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 sunrise, prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. ANGELO. Well; come to me tomorrow. LUCIO. [_Aside to Isabella_.] Go to, tis well; away. ISABELLA. Heaven keep your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022155 | honour safe. ANGELO. [_Aside_.] Amen. For I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. ISABELLA. At what hour tomorrow Shall I attend your lordship? ANGELO. At any time fore noon. ISABELLA. Save your honour. [_Exeunt Isabella, Lucio and Provost._] ANGELO. From thee, even from thy virtue! Whats this? Whats this? Is this her fault or mine? The tempter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022156 | 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 more betray our sense Than womans lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022157 | the sanctuary And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie! What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? Dost thou desire her foully for those things That make her good? O, let her brother live. Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves. What, do I love her, That I desire to hear her speak again And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022158 | feast upon her eyes? What ist I dream on? O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet With all her double vigour, art, and nature, Once stir my temper, but this virtuous maid Subdues me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022159 | quite. Ever till now When men were fond, I smiled and wondered how. [_Exit._] SCENE III. A room in a prison. Enter Duke disguised as a Friar, and Provost. DUKE. Hail to you, Provost, so I think you are. PROVOST. I am the Provost. Whats your will, good friar? DUKE. Bound by my charity and my blessed order, I come | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022160 | 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. Enter Juliet. Look, here comes one, a gentlewoman of mine, Who, falling in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022161 | the flaws of her own youth, Hath blistered 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. When must he die? PROVOST. As I do think, tomorrow. [_To Juliet_.] I have provided for you; stay a while And you shall be conducted. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022162 | DUKE. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? JULIET. I do; and bear the shame most patiently. DUKE. Ill teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, And try your penitence, if it be sound Or hollowly put on. JULIET. Ill gladly learn. DUKE. Love you the man that wronged you? JULIET. Yes, as I love the woman | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022163 | that wronged him. DUKE. So then it seems your most offenceful act Was mutually committed? JULIET. Mutually. DUKE. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. JULIET. I do confess it, and repent it, father. DUKE. Tis meet so, daughter; but lest you do repent As that the sin hath brought you to this shame, Which sorrow is always | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022164 | toward 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. There rest. Your partner, as I hear, must die tomorrow, And I am going with instruction to him. Grace go with you! _Benedicite!_ | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022165 | [_Exit._] JULIET. Must die tomorrow? O, injurious love That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror! PROVOST. Tis pity of him. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. A room in Angelos house. Enter Angelo. ANGELO. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words, Whilst my invention, hearing not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022166 | my tongue, Anchors on Isabel. Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name, And in my heart the strong and swelling evil Of my conception. The state whereon I studied Is, like a good thing being often read, Grown sere and tedious; yea, my gravity, Whereinlet no man hear meI take pride, Could I with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022167 | boot change for an idle plume Which the air beats for vain. O place, O form, How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit, Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood. Lets write good angel on the devils horn. Tis not the devils crest. [_Knock within._] How now, whos | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022168 | there? Enter Servant. SERVANT. One Isabel, a sister, desires access to you. ANGELO. Teach her the way. [_Exit Servant._] O heavens, Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, Making both it unable for itself And dispossessing all my other parts Of necessary fitness? So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons, Come all to help him, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022169 | so stop the air By which he should revive. And even so The general subject to a well-wished king Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offence. Enter Isabella. How now, fair maid? ISABELLA. I am come to know your pleasure. ANGELO. That you might know it, would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022170 | much better please me Than to demand what tis. Your brother cannot live. ISABELLA. Even so. Heaven keep your honour. ANGELO. Yet may he live a while. And, it may be, As long as you or I. Yet he must die. ISABELLA. Under your sentence? ANGELO. Yea. ISABELLA. When, I beseech you? That in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022171 | may be so fitted That his soul sicken not. ANGELO. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him that hath from nature stolen A man already made, as to remit Their saucy sweetness that do coin heavens image In stamps that are forbid. Tis all as easy Falsely to take away a life true made As | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022172 | to put metal in restrained means To make a false one. ISABELLA. Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth. ANGELO. Say you so? Then I shall pose you quickly. Which had you rather, that the most just law Now took your brothers life; or, to redeem him, Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness As she | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022173 | that he hath stained? ISABELLA. Sir, believe this: I had rather give my body than my soul. ANGELO. I talk not of your soul. Our compelled sins Stand more for number than for accompt. ISABELLA. How say you? ANGELO. Nay, Ill not warrant that, for I can speak Against the thing I say. Answer to this: I, now the voice | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022174 | of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brothers life. Might there not be a charity in sin To save this brothers life? ISABELLA. Please you to dot, Ill take it as a peril to my soul; It is no sin at all, but charity. ANGELO. Pleased you to dot at peril of your soul, Were equal poise of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022175 | sin and charity. ISABELLA. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven let me bear it. You granting of my suit, If that be sin, Ill make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine, And nothing of your answer. ANGELO. Nay, but hear me. Your sense pursues not mine. Either you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022176 | are ignorant, Or seem so, crafty; and thats not good. ISABELLA. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better. ANGELO. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright When it doth tax itself, as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could, displayed. But mark me; To be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022177 | received plain, Ill speak more gross. Your brother is to die. ISABELLA. So. ANGELO. And his offence is so, as it appears, Accountant to the law upon that pain. ISABELLA. True. ANGELO. Admit no other way to save his life As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But, in the loss of question, that you, his sister, Finding yourself | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022178 | desired of such a person Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-binding law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else to let him suffer, What would you do? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022179 | ISABELLA. As much for my poor brother as myself. That is, were I under the terms of death, Th impression of keen whips Id wear as rubies, And strip myself to death as to a bed That longing have been sick for, ere Id yield My body up to shame. ANGELO. Then must your brother die. ISABELLA. And twere the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022180 | cheaper way. Better it were a brother died at once Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. ANGELO. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slandered so? ISABELLA. Ignominy in ransom and free pardon Are of two houses. Lawful mercy Is nothing kin to foul redemption. ANGELO. You seemed of late | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022181 | to make the law a tyrant, And rather proved the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice. ISABELLA. O, pardon me, my lord. It oft falls out, To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean. I something do excuse the thing I hate For his advantage that I dearly love. ANGELO. We are all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022182 | frail. ISABELLA. Else let my brother die, If not a feodary but only he Owe and succeed by weakness. ANGELO. Nay, women are frail too. ISABELLA. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves, Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women?Help, heaven! Men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022183 | we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints. ANGELO. I think it well. And from this testimony of your own sex, Since I suppose we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames, let me be bold. I do arrest your words. Be that you are, That is, a woman. If you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022184 | be more, youre none. If you be one, as you are well expressed By all external warrants, show it now By putting on the destined livery. ISABELLA. I have no tongue but one. Gentle my lord, Let me intreat you speak the former language. ANGELO. Plainly conceive, I love you. ISABELLA. My brother did love Juliet, And you tell me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022185 | that he shall die for t. ANGELO. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. ISABELLA. I know your virtue hath a license int, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. ANGELO. Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. ISABELLA. Ha! Little honour to be much believed, And most pernicious purpose! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022186 | Seeming, seeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look fort. Sign me a present pardon for my brother Or with an outstretched throat Ill tell the world aloud What man thou art. ANGELO. Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoiled name, th austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i th state Will so your accusation overweigh | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022187 | That you shall stifle in your own report, And smell of calumny. I have begun, And now I give my sensual race the rein. Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes That banish what they sue for. Redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will; Or else he must not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022188 | only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out To lingring sufferance. Answer me tomorrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most, Ill prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can, my false oerweighs your true. [_Exit._] ISABELLA. To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022189 | O perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the self-same tongue Either of condemnation or approof, Bidding the law make curtsy to their will, Hooking both right and wrong to th appetite, To follow as it draws! Ill to my brother. Though he hath falln by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022190 | honour That, had he twenty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks, hed yield them up Before his sister should her body stoop To such abhorred pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die. More than our brother is our chastity. Ill tell him yet of Angelos request, And fit his mind to death, for his souls rest. [_Exit._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022191 | ACT III SCENE I. A room in the prison. Enter Duke, Claudio and Provost. DUKE. So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo? CLAUDIO. The miserable have no other medicine But only hope. I have hope to live, and am prepared to die. DUKE. Be absolute for death. Either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022192 | with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep. A breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences That dost this habitation where thou keepst Hourly afflict. Merely, thou art deaths fool; For him thou labourst by thy flight to shun, And yet runnst toward him still. Thou art not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022193 | noble; For all th accommodations that thou bearst Are nursed by baseness. Thourt by no means valiant; For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provokst, yet grossly fearst Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; For thou exists on many a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022194 | thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; For what thou hast not, still thou strivst to get, And what thou hast, forgetst. Thou art not certain; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects After the moon. If thou art rich, thourt poor; For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows, Thou bearst thy heavy riches | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022195 | but a journey, And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none; For thine own bowels which do call thee sire, The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age, But as it were an after-dinners sleep Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022196 | youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty To make thy riches pleasant. Whats yet in this That bears the name of life? Yet in this life Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear, That makes these odds all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022197 | even. CLAUDIO. I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die, And seeking death, find life. Let it come on. ISABELLA. [_Within_.] What ho! Peace here; grace and good company! PROVOST. Whos there? Come in. The wish deserves a welcome. DUKE. Dear sir, ere long Ill visit you again. CLAUDIO. Most holy sir, I thank | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022198 | you. Enter Isabella. ISABELLA. My business is a word or two with Claudio. PROVOST. And very welcome. Look, signior, heres your sister. DUKE. Provost, a word with you. PROVOST. As many as you please. DUKE. Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be concealed. [_Exeunt Duke and Provost._] CLAUDIO. Now, sister, whats the comfort? ISABELLA. Why, As all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022199 | comforts are, most good, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven, Intends you for his swift ambassador, Where you shall be an everlasting leiger. Therefore your best appointment make with speed; Tomorrow you set on. CLAUDIO. Is there no remedy? ISABELLA. None, but such remedy as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain. CLAUDIO. But | 60 | gutenberg |
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