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twg_000000022200 | is there any? ISABELLA. Yes, brother, you may live. There is a devilish mercy in the judge, If youll implore it, that will free your life, But fetter you till death. CLAUDIO. Perpetual durance? ISABELLA. Ay, just; perpetual durance; a restraint, Though all the worlds vastidity you had, To a determined scope. CLAUDIO. But in what nature? ISABELLA. In such | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022201 | a one as, you consenting tot, Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked. CLAUDIO. Let me know the point. ISABELLA. O, I do fear thee, Claudio, and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Darst thou die? The sense of death | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022202 | is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle that we tread upon In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. CLAUDIO. Why give you me this shame? Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride And hug it in mine arms. ISABELLA. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022203 | There spake my brother! There my fathers grave Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die. Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i th head, and follies doth enew As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil. His filth within being cast, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022204 | he would appear A pond as deep as hell. CLAUDIO. The precise Angelo? ISABELLA. O, tis the cunning livery of hell The damnedst body to invest and cover In precise guards! Dost thou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my virginity Thou mightst be freed? CLAUDIO. O heavens, it cannot be. ISABELLA. Yes, he would give it thee, from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022205 | this rank offence, So to offend him still. This nights the time That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou diest tomorrow. CLAUDIO. Thou shalt not dot. ISABELLA. O, were it but my life, Id throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin. CLAUDIO. Thanks, dear Isabel. ISABELLA. Be ready, Claudio, for your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022206 | death tomorrow. CLAUDIO. Yes. Has he affections in him That thus can make him bite the law by th nose When he would force it? Sure it is no sin; Or of the deadly seven it is the least. ISABELLA. Which is the least? CLAUDIO. If it were damnable, he being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022207 | Be perdurably fined? O Isabel! ISABELLA. What says my brother? CLAUDIO. Death is a fearful thing. ISABELLA. And shamed life a hateful. CLAUDIO. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022208 | to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprisoned 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 thought Imagine howlingtis too horrible. The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022209 | a paradise To what we fear of death. ISABELLA. Alas, alas! CLAUDIO. Sweet sister, let me live. What sin you do to save a brothers life, Nature dispenses with the deed so far That it becomes a virtue. ISABELLA. O, you beast! O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice? Ist not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022210 | a kind of incest to take life From thine own sisters shame? What should I think? Heaven shield my mother played my father fair, For such a warped slip of wilderness Neer issued from his blood. Take my defiance, Die, perish! Might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed. Ill pray a thousand prayers for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022211 | thy death, No word to save thee. CLAUDIO. Nay, hear me, Isabel. ISABELLA. O fie, fie, fie! Thy sins not accidental, but a trade. Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd. Tis best that thou diest quickly. [_Going._] CLAUDIO. O, hear me, Isabella. Enter Duke as a Friar. DUKE. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. ISABELLA. What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022212 | 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. ISABELLA. I have no superfluous leisure, my stay must be stolen out of other affairs, but I will attend you a while. DUKE. [_To Claudio aside_.] Son, I have overheard | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022213 | 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 judgement 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022214 | and I know this to be true; therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible. Tomorrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready. CLAUDIO. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it. DUKE. Hold you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022215 | there. Farewell. [_Exit Claudio._] Enter Provost. Provost, a word with you. PROVOST. Whats your will, father? DUKE. That, now you are come, you will be gone. Leave me a while with the maid; my mind promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by my company. PROVOST. In good time. [_Exit Provost._] DUKE. The hand that hath made you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022216 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022217 | Angelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother? ISABELLA. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022218 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022219 | may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your 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. ISABELLA. Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to do anything that appears not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022220 | 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? ISABELLA. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. DUKE. She should this Angelo have married, was affianced to her oath, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022221 | 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 befell to the poor gentlewoman. There she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural; with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022222 | him, the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage dowry; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo. ISABELLA. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022223 | own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not. ISABELLA. What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail? DUKE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022224 | 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. ISABELLA. Show me how, good father. DUKE. This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection. His unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022225 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022226 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022227 | 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? ISABELLA. The image of it gives me content already, and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. DUKE. It lies much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022228 | 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 Lukes; there at the moated grange resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. ISABELLA. I thank you for this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022229 | comfort. Fare you well, good father. [_Exit Isabella._] SCENE II. The street before the prison. Enter Elbow, Pompey and Officers. ELBOW. 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? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022230 | POMPEY. 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 on lambskins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. ELBOW. Come your way, sir.Bless you, good father friar. DUKE. And you, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022231 | good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir? ELBOW. 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 picklock, which we have sent to the deputy. DUKE. Fie, sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd; The evil that thou causest | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022232 | 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022233 | POMPEY. 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. ELBOW. He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning. The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022234 | 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, Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free! ELBOW. His neck will come to your waista cord, sir. Enter Lucio. POMPEY. I spy comfort, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022235 | I cry bail! Heres a gentleman, and a friend of mine. LUCIO. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalions images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutched? What reply, ha? What sayst thou to this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022236 | tune, matter, and method? Ist not drowned i th last rain, ha? What sayst 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? POMPEY. Troth, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022237 | 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? POMPEY. Yes, faith, sir. LUCIO. Why, tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022238 | Go, say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? Or how? ELBOW. 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. Bawd born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey. You will turn good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022239 | husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house. POMPEY. 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022240 | Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha? ELBOW. Come your ways, sir, come. POMPEY. You will not bail me then, sir? LUCIO. Then, Pompey, nor now.What news abroad, friar? What news? ELBOW. Come your ways, sir, come. LUCIO. Go to kennel, Pompey, go. [_Exeunt Elbow, Pompey and Officers._] What news, friar, of the Duke? DUKE. I know none. Can you tell | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022241 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022242 | Angelo dukes it well in his absence. He puts transgression tot. DUKE. He does well int. LUCIO. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022243 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022244 | between two stockfishes. 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; thats infallible. DUKE. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace. LUCIO. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022245 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022246 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022247 | surely. 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 prithee, 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022248 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022249 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022250 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022251 | 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. Youll | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022252 | forswear this again. LUCIO. Ill be hanged first! Thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die tomorrow or no? DUKE. Why should he die, sir? LUCIO. Why? For filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would the Duke we talk of were returned again. This ungenitured agent will unpeople the province | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022253 | 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 prithee pray for me. The Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022254 | Hes now past it; yet, and, I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar though she smelt brown bread and garlic. Say that I said so. Farewell. [_Exit._] DUKE. No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure scape. Back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022255 | who comes here? Enter Escalus, Provost and Officers with Mistress Overdone, a Bawd. ESCALUS. Go, away with her to prison. BAWD. Good my lord, be good to me. Your honour is accounted a merciful man, good my lord. ESCALUS. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind? This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant. PROVOST. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022256 | A bawd of eleven years continuance, may it please your honour. BAWD. My lord, this is one Lucios information against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the Dukes time; he promised her marriage. His child is a year and a quarter old come Philip and Jacob. I have kept it myself; and see how he goes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022257 | about to abuse me. ESCALUS. That fellow is a fellow of much license. Let him be called before us. Away with her to prison. Go to, no more words. [_Exeunt Officers with Bawd._] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; Claudio must die tomorrow. Let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation. If my brother wrought | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022258 | by my pity, it should not be so with him. PROVOST. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for th entertainment of death. ESCALUS. Good even, good father. DUKE. Bliss and goodness on you! ESCALUS. Of whence are you? DUKE. Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022259 | I am a brother Of gracious order, late come from the See In special business from his Holiness. ESCALUS. What news abroad i th world? DUKE. None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness that the dissolution of it must cure it. Novelty is only in request, and as it is as dangerous to be aged in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022260 | any kind of course as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accursed. Much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every days news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022261 | the Duke? ESCALUS. One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself. DUKE. What pleasure was he given to? ESCALUS. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at anything which professed to make him rejoice. A gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous, and let me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022262 | desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation. DUKE. He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice. Yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life, which I, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022263 | by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now he is resolved to die. ESCALUS. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty, but my brother justice have I found so severe that he hath forced me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022264 | to tell him he is indeed Justice. DUKE. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself. ESCALUS. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well. DUKE. Peace be with you. [_Exeunt Escalus and Provost._] He who the sword of heaven will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022265 | bear Should be as holy as severe, Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go; More nor less to others paying Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice, and let his grow! O, what may man within him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022266 | hide, Though angel on the outward side! How may likeness, made in crimes, Make practice on the times, To draw with idle spiders strings Most ponderous and substantial things! Craft against vice I must apply. With Angelo tonight shall lie His old betrothed but despised. So disguise shall, by th disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022267 | contracting. [_Exit._] ACT IV SCENE I. A room in Marianas house. Enter Mariana and a Boy singing. SONG _ Take, O take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn, And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn. But my kisses bring again, Bring again; Seals of love, but sealed in vain, Sealed in vain._ | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022268 | Enter Duke as a Friar. MARIANA. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away; Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often stilled my brawling discontent. [_Exit Boy._] I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish You had not found me here so musical. Let me excuse me, and believe me so, My mirth it much | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022269 | displeased, but pleased my woe. DUKE. Tis good; though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good and good provoke to harm. I pray you tell me, hath anybody inquired for me here today? Much upon this time have I promised here to meet. MARIANA. You have not been inquired after. I have sat here all day. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022270 | Isabella. DUKE. I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little. Maybe I will call upon you anon for some advantage to yourself. MARIANA. I am always bound to you. [_Exit._] DUKE. Very well met, and welcome. What is the news from this good deputy? ISABELLA. He hath a garden circummured | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022271 | with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard backed; And to that vineyard is a planched gate That makes his opening with this bigger key. This other doth command a little door Which from the vineyard to the garden leads; There have I made my promise, upon the Heavy middle of the night to call on him. DUKE. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022272 | shall you on your knowledge find this way? ISABELLA. I have taen a due and wary note upont; With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice oer. DUKE. Are there no other tokens Between you greed concerning her observance? ISABELLA. No, none, but only a repair i th dark, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022273 | that I have possessed him my most stay Can be but brief, for I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along, That stays upon me; whose persuasion is I come about my brother. DUKE. Tis well borne up. I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this.What ho, within! Come forth. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022274 | Mariana. I pray you be acquainted with this maid; She comes to do you good. ISABELLA. I do desire the like. DUKE. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? MARIANA. Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. DUKE. Take, then, this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear. I shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022275 | attend your leisure; but make haste. The vaporous night approaches. MARIANA. Willt please you walk aside? [_Exeunt Mariana and Isabella._] DUKE. O place and greatness, millions of false eyes Are stuck upon thee; volumes of report Run with these false, and most contrarious quest Upon thy doings; thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022276 | rack thee in their fancies. Enter Mariana and Isabella. Welcome; how agreed? ISABELLA. Shell take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it. DUKE. It is not my consent, But my entreaty too. ISABELLA. Little have you to say When you depart from him, but, soft and low, Remember now my brother. MARIANA. Fear me not. DUKE. Nor, gentle | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022277 | daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a pre-contract. To bring you thus together tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go; Our corns to reap, for yet our tithes to sow. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. A room in the prison. Enter Provost and Pompey. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022278 | PROVOST. Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a mans head? POMPEY. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a married man, hes his wifes head, and I can never cut off a womans head. PROVOST. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a direct answer. Tomorrow morning are to die Claudio | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022279 | and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper; if you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping; for you have been a notorious bawd. POMPEY. Sir, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022280 | I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind, but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow-partner. PROVOST. What ho, Abhorson! Wheres Abhorson, there? Enter Abhorson. ABHORSON. Do you call, sir? PROVOST. Sirrah, heres a fellow will help you tomorrow in your execution. If you | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022281 | think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you; if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd. ABHORSON. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him, he will discredit our mystery. PROVOST. Go to, sir; you weigh equally. A feather will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022282 | turn the scale. [_Exit._] POMPEY. Pray, sir, by your good favourfor surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging lookdo you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? ABHORSON. Ay, sir, a mystery. POMPEY. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022283 | my occupation a mystery. But what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. ABHORSON. Sir, it is a mystery. POMPEY. Proof. ABHORSON. Every true mans apparel fits your thief. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough; if it be too big for your thief, your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022284 | thief thinks it little enough. So every true mans apparel fits your thief. Enter Provost. PROVOST. Are you agreed? POMPEY. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd. He doth oftener ask forgiveness. PROVOST. You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe tomorrow four oclock. ABHORSON. Come on, bawd. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022285 | I will instruct thee in my trade. Follow. POMPEY. I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare. For truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn. PROVOST. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio. [_Exeunt Abhorson and Pompey._] Th one has my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022286 | pity; not a jot the other, Being a murderer, though he were my brother. Enter Claudio. Look, heres the warrant, Claudio, for thy death. Tis now dead midnight, and by eight tomorrow Thou must be made immortal. Wheres Barnardine? CLAUDIO. As fast locked up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the travellers bones. He will not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022287 | wake. PROVOST. Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. [_Knocking within_.] But hark, what noise? Heaven give your spirits comfort! [_Exit Claudio. Knock within._] By and by! I hope it is some pardon or reprieve For the most gentle Claudio. Enter Duke. Welcome, father. DUKE. The best and wholesomst spirits of the night Envelop you, good Provost! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022288 | Who called here of late? PROVOST. None, since the curfew rung. DUKE. Not Isabel? PROVOST. No. DUKE. They will then, eret be long. PROVOST. What comfort is for Claudio? DUKE. Theres some in hope. PROVOST. It is a bitter deputy. DUKE. Not so, not so. His life is paralleled Even with the stroke and line of his great justice. He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022289 | doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself which he spurs on his power To qualify in others. Were he mealed with that Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; But this being so, hes just. [_Knocking within. Provost goes to the door._] Now are they come. This is a gentle provost. Seldom when The steeled gaoler is the friend | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022290 | of men. [_Knocking within_.] How now? What noise? That spirits possessed with haste That wounds th unsisting postern with these strokes. Provost returns. PROVOST. There he must stay until the officer Arise to let him in. He is called up. DUKE. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, But he must die tomorrow? PROVOST. None, sir, none. DUKE. As near | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022291 | the dawning, Provost, as it is, You shall hear more ere morning. PROVOST. Happily You something know, yet I believe there comes No countermand. No such example have we. Besides, upon the very siege of justice Lord Angelo hath to the public ear Professed the contrary. Enter a Messenger. This is his Lordships man. DUKE. And here comes Claudios pardon. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022292 | MESSENGER. My lord hath sent you this note, and by me this further charge: that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow; for, as I take it, it is almost day. PROVOST. I shall obey him. [_Exit Messenger._] DUKE. [_Aside_.] This is his pardon, purchased by such sin For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022293 | which the pardoner himself is in. Hence hath offence his quick celerity, When it is borne in high authority. When vice makes mercy, mercys so extended That for the faults love is th offender friended. Now, sir, what news? PROVOST. I told you: Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on; methinks strangely, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022294 | for he hath not used it before. DUKE. Pray you, lets hear. PROVOST. [_Reads_.] _Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock, and in the afternoon, Barnardine. For my better satisfaction, let me have Claudios head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed, with a thought that more depends on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022295 | it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril._ What say you to this, sir? DUKE. What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in th afternoon? PROVOST. A Bohemian born, but here nursed up and bred; one that is a prisoner nine years old. DUKE. How | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022296 | came it that the absent Duke had not either delivered him to his liberty, or executed him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so. PROVOST. His friends still wrought reprieves for him; and indeed, his fact till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. DUKE. It is now apparent? PROVOST. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022297 | Most manifest, and not denied by himself. DUKE. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? How seems he to be touched? PROVOST. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep; careless, reckless, and fearless of whats past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality and desperately mortal. DUKE. He wants advice. PROVOST. He will hear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022298 | none. He hath evermore had the liberty of the prison; give him leave to escape hence, he would not. Drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming warrant for it. It hath not moved him at all. DUKE. More | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000022299 | of him anon. There is written in your brow, Provost, honesty and constancy; if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me. But in the boldness of my cunning I will lay myself in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenced him. To make | 60 | gutenberg |
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