Measure for Measure

Scene II. The street before the prison

Enter, on one side, DUKE disguised as before; on the other, ELBOW, and OFFICERS with POMPEY

 
  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?
  POMPEY. 'Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the
merriest
    was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd
    gown to keep him warm; and furr'd with fox on lamb-skins 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, 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 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.
  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 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,
    From our faults, as his faults from seeming, free.
  ELBOW. His neck will come to your waist- a cord, sir.
 

Enter LUCIO

 
  POMPEY. I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here's 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 Pygmalion's
images,
    newly made woman, to be had now for putting the hand in the
    pocket and extracting it clutch'd? What reply, ha? What
say'st
    thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't not drown'd i'
th'
    last rain, ha? What say'st 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, 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 powder'd bawd- an unshunn'd
    consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey?
  POMPEY. Yes, faith, sir.
  LUCIO. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell; 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 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. 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 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 Angelo
    dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to't.
  DUKE. He does well in't.
  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
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 spawn'd him; some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true. And he is a motion generative; that's 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 of a man! Would the Duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hang'd 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 for women; he was not inclin'd that way. LUCIO. O, sir, you are deceiv'd. 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, 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 lock'd within the teeth and the lips; but this I can let you understand: the greater file of the 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 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 dark'ned 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 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 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: you'll forswear this again. LUCIO. I'll be hang'd first. Thou art deceiv'd in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow 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 return'd again. This ungenitur'd agent will unpeople the province 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 return'd! 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. He's
not
    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 who comes here?
 

Enter ESCALUS, PROVOST, and OFFICERS with MISTRESS OVERDONE

 
  ESCALUS. Go, away with her to prison.
  MRS. OVERDONE. 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. A bawd of eleven years' continuance, may it please
your
    honour.
  MRS. OVERDONE. My lord, this is one Lucio's information against
me.
    Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the Duke's
time;
    he promis'd 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
    about to abuse me.
  ESCALUS. That fellow is a fellow of much license. Let him be
call'd
    before us. Away with her to prison. Go to; no more words.
[Exeunt
    OFFICERS with MISTRESS OVERDONE] Provost, my brother Angelo
will
    not be alter'd: Claudio must die to-morrow. Let him be
furnish'd
    with divines, and have all charitable preparation. If my
brother
    wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him.
  PROVOST. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and
advis'd
    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. 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 any kind of course as it
is
    virtuous to be constant in any undertakeing. There is scarce
    truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security
enough
    to make fellowships accurst. Much upon this riddle runs the
    wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every
    day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was 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 profess'd 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 desire to know how you find
    Claudio prepar'd. 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, by my good
    leisure, have discredited to him, and now he is resolv'd to
die.
  ESCALUS. You have paid the heavens your function, and the
prisoner
    the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor
    gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty; but my
brother
    justice have I found so severe that he hath forc'd me 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
    sentenc'd 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 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 hide,
         Though angel on the outward side!
         How may likeness, made in crimes,
         Make a practice on the times,
         To draw with idle spiders' strings
         Most ponderous and substantial things!
         Craft against vice I must apply.
         With Angelo to-night shall lie
         His old betrothed but despised;
         So disguise shall, by th' disguised,
         Pay with falsehood false exacting,
         And perform an old contracting. Exit
 

Act IV. Scene I. The moated grange at Saint Duke's

Enter MARIANA; and 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 seal'd in vain, seal'd in vain.
 

Enter DUKE, disguised as before

 
  MARIANA. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away;
    Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice
    Hath often still'd 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 displeas'd, but pleas'd 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 inquir'd for me here to-day.
Much
    upon this time have I promis'd here to meet.
  MARIANA. You have not been inquir'd after; I have sat here all
day.
 

Enter ISABELLA

 
  DUKE. I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I
    shall crave your forbearance a little. May be I will call
upon
    you anon, for some advantage to yourself.
  MARIANA. I am always bound to you. Exit
  DUKE. Very well met, and well come.
    What is the news from this good deputy?
  ISABELLA. He hath a garden circummur'd with brick,
    Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd;
    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 upon him.
  DUKE. But shall you on your knowledge find this way?
  ISABELLA. I have ta'en a due and wary note upon't;
    With whispering and most guilty diligence,
    In action all of precept, he did show me
    The way twice o'er.
  DUKE. Are there no other tokens
    Between you 'greed concerning her observance?
  ISABELLA. No, none, but only a repair i' th' dark;
    And that I have possess'd 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.
 

Re-enter 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 attend your leisure; but make haste;
    The vaporous night approaches.
  MARIANA. Will't 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 rack thee in their fancies.
 

Re-enter MARIANA and ISABELLA

 
    Welcome, how agreed?
  ISABELLA. She'll 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 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 corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow. Exeunt