POMPEY. A woman.
MRS. OVERDONE. But what's his offence?
POMPEY. Groping for trouts in a
peculiar river.
MRS. OVERDONE. What! is there a maid with child by him?
POMPEY. No; but there's a woman with maid by him. You have not
heard of the
proclamation, have you?
MRS. OVERDONE. What
proclamation, man?
POMPEY. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be pluck'd down.
MRS. OVERDONE. And what shall become of those in the city?
POMPEY. They shall stand for seed; they had gone down too, but that
a wise
burgher put in for them.
MRS. OVERDONE. But shall all our houses of
resort in the suburbs be
pull'd down?
POMPEY. To the ground, mistress.
MRS. OVERDONE. Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth!
What shall become of me?
POMPEY. Come, fear not you: good counsellors lack no clients.
Though you change your place you need not change your trade; I'll
be your tapster still. Courage, there will be pity taken on you;
you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will
be considered.
MRS. OVERDONE. What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? Let's withdraw.
POMPEY. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to prison;
and there's Madam Juliet. Exeunt
Enter PROVOST, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and OFFICERS;
LUCIO following
CLAUDIO. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to th' world?
Bear me to prison, where I am committed.
PROVOST. I do it not in evil disposition,
But from Lord Angelo by special charge.
CLAUDIO. Thus can the demigod Authority
Make us pay down for our offence by weight
The words of heaven: on whom it will, it will;
On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.
LUCIO. Why, how now, Claudio,
whence comes this
restraint?
CLAUDIO. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty;
As surfeit is the father of much fast,
So every scope by the immoderate use
Turns to
restraint. Our natures do pursue,
Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,
A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die.
LUCIO. If I could speak so
wisely under an
arrest, I would send for
certain of my creditors; and yet, to say the truth, I had as lief
have the foppery of freedom as the
morality of imprisonment.
What's thy offence, Claudio?
CLAUDIO. What but to speak of would
offend again.
LUCIO. What, is't murder?
CLAUDIO. No.
LUCIO. Lechery?
CLAUDIO. Call it so.
PROVOST. Away, sir; you must go.
CLAUDIO. One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you.
LUCIO. A hundred, if they'll do you any good. Is lechery so look'd
after?
CLAUDIO. Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract
I got possession of Julietta's bed.
You know the lady; she is fast my wife,
Save that we do the denunciation lack
Of
outward order; this we came not to,
Only for propagation of a dow'r
Remaining in the
coffer of her friends.
From whom we thought it meet to hide our love
Till time had made them for us. But it chances
The stealth of our most
mutual entertainment,
With
character too gross, is writ on Juliet.
LUCIO. With child, perhaps?
CLAUDIO. Unhappily, even so.
And the new
deputy now for the Duke-
Whether it be the fault and
glimpse of newness,
Or whether that the body public be
A horse
whereon the
governor doth ride,
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
Whether the
tyranny be in his place,
Or in his
eminence that fills it up,
I
stagger in. But this new
governorAwakes me all the enrolled penalties
Which have, like unscour'd
armour, hung by th' wall
So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round
And none of them been worn; and, for a name,
Now puts the
drowsy and neglected act
Freshly on me. 'Tis surely for a name.
LUCIO. I
warrant it is; and thy head stands so
tickle on thy
shoulders that a
milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it off.
Send after the Duke, and
appeal to him.
CLAUDIO. I have done so, but he's not to be found.
I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service:
This day my sister should the
cloister enter,
And there receive her approbation;
Acquaint her with the danger of my state;
Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends
To the
strictdeputy; bid herself assay him.
I have great hope in that; for in her youth
There is a prone and
speechless dialect
Such as move men; beside, she hath
prosperous art
When she will play with reason and discourse,
And well she can persuade.
LUCIO. I pray she may; as well for the
encouragement of the like,
which else would stand under
grievous imposition, as for the
enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus
foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her.
CLAUDIO. I thank you, good friend Lucio.
LUCIO. Within two hours.
CLAUDIO. Come, officer, away. Exeunt
SCENE III.
A monastery
Enter DUKE and FRIAR THOMAS
DUKE. No, holy father; throw away that thought;
Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
Can
pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee
To give me secret harbour hath a purpose
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
Of burning youth.
FRIAR. May your Grace speak of it?
DUKE. My holy sir, none better knows than you
How I have ever lov'd the life removed,
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies
Where youth, and cost, a witless
bravery keeps.
I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo,
A man of
stricture and firm abstinence,
My
absolute power and place here in Vienna,
And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;
For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,
And so it is received. Now, pious sir,
You will demand of me why I do this.
FRIAR. Gladly, my lord.
DUKE. We have
strict statutes and most
biting laws,
The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds,
Which for this fourteen years we have let slip;
Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,
That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,
Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch,
Only to stick it in their children's sight
For
terror, not to use, in time the rod
Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees,
Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;
And liberty plucks justice by the nose;
The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart
Goes all decorum.
FRIAR. It rested in your Grace
To
unloose this tied-up justice when you pleas'd;
And it in you more
dreadful would have seem'd
Than in Lord Angelo.
DUKE. I do fear, too
dreadful.
Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope,
'Twould be my
tyranny to strike and gall them
For what I bid them do; for we bid this be done,
When evil deeds have their permissive pass
And not the
punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father,
I have on Angelo impos'd the office;
Who may, in th'
ambush of my name, strike home,
And yet my nature never in the fight
To do in
slander. And to behold his sway,
I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,
Visit both
prince and people. Therefore, I prithee,
Supply me with the habit, and
instruct me
How I may
formally in person bear me
Like a true friar. Moe reasons for this action
At our more
leisure shall I render you.
Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise;
Stands at a guard with envy;
scarce confesses
That his blood flows, or that his appetite
Is more to bread than stone. Hence shall we see,
If power change purpose, what our seemers be. Exeunt
SCENE IV.
A nunnery
Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA
ISABELLA. And have you nuns no farther privileges?
FRANCISCA. Are not these large enough?
ISABELLA. Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more,
But rather wishing a more
strictrestraintUpon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.
LUCIO. [ Within] Ho! Peace be in this place!
ISABELLA. Who's that which calls?
FRANCISCA. It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella,
Turn you the key, and know his business of him:
You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn;
When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men
But in the presence of the prioress;
Then, if you speak, you must not show your face,
Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.
He calls again; I pray you answer him. Exit FRANCISCA
ISABELLA. Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls?
Enter LUCIO
LUCIO. Hail,
virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses
Proclaim you are no less. Can you so stead me
As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
A
novice of this place, and the fair sister
To her
unhappy brother Claudio?
ISABELLA. Why her '
unhappy brother'? Let me ask
The rather, for I now must make you know
I am that Isabella, and his sister.
LUCIO. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you.
Not to be weary with you, he's in prison.
ISABELLA. Woe me! For what?
LUCIO. For that which, if myself might be his judge,
He should receive his
punishment in thanks:
He hath got his friend with child.
ISABELLA. Sir, make me not your story.
LUCIO. It is true.
I would not- though 'tis my familiar sin