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That life is better life, past fearing death, Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort, So happy is your brother. |
ISABELLA: I do, my lord. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother,-- Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach Thereon dependent, for your brother's life,-- The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue, 'An Angelo for Claudio, death for death!' |
Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE. |
Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested; Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. |
We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. |
Away with him! |
MARIANA: O my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. |
Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life And choke your good to come; for his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you withal, To buy you a better husband. |
MARIANA: O my dear lord, I crave no other, nor no better man. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Never crave him; we are definitive. |
MARIANA: Gentle my liege,-- DUKE VINCENTIO: You do but lose your labour. |
Away with him to death! |
Now, sir, to you. |
MARIANA: O my good lord! |
Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I'll lend you all my life to do you service. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Against all sense you do importune her: Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror. |
MARIANA: Isabel, Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll speak all. |
They say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad: so may my husband. |
O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? |
DUKE VINCENTIO: He dies for Claudio's death. |
ISABELLA: Most bounteous sir, Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my brother lived: I partly think A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, Till he did look on me: since it is so, Let him not die. |
My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died: For Angelo, His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects; Intents but merely thoughts. |
MARIANA: Merely, my lord. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Your suit's unprofitable; stand up, I say. |
I have bethought me of another fault. |
Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour? |
Provost: It was commanded so. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Had you a special warrant for the deed? |
Provost: No, my good lord; it was by private message. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: For which I do discharge you of your office: Give up your keys. |
Provost: Pardon me, noble lord: I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; Yet did repent me, after more advice; For testimony whereof, one in the prison, That should by private order else have died, I have reserved alive. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: What's he? |
Provost: His name is Barnardine. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. |
Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. |
ESCALUS: I am sorry, one so learned and so wise As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood. |
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. |
ANGELO: I am sorry that such sorrow I procure: And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart That I crave death more willingly than mercy; 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Which is that Barnardine? |
Provost: This, my lord. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: There was a friar told me of this man. |
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul. |
That apprehends no further than this world, And squarest thy life according. |
Thou'rt condemn'd: But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all; And pray thee take this mercy to provide For better times to come. |
Friar, advise him; I leave him to your hand. |
What muffled fellow's that? |
Provost: This is another prisoner that I saved. |
Who should have died when Claudio lost his head; As like almost to Claudio as himself. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: LUCIO: 'Faith, my lord. |
I spoke it but according to the trick. |
If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipt. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Whipt first, sir, and hanged after. |
Proclaim it, provost, round about the city. |
Is any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow, As I have heard him swear himself there's one Whom he begot with child, let her appear, And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipt and hang'd. |
LUCIO: I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore. |
Your highness said even now, I made you a duke: good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. |
Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits. |
Take him to prison; And see our pleasure herein executed. |
LUCIO: Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. |
DUKE VINCENTIO: Slandering a prince deserves it. |
She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. |
Joy to you, Mariana! |
Love her, Angelo: I have confess'd her and I know her virtue. |
Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: There's more behind that is more gratulate. |
Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy: We shill employ thee in a worthier place. |
Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine for Claudio's: The offence pardons itself. |
Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good; Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline, What's mine is yours and what is yours is mine. |
So, bring us to our palace; where we'll show What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know. |
SLY: I'll pheeze you, in faith. |
Hostess: A pair of stocks, you rogue! |
SLY: Ye are a baggage: the Slys are no rogues; look in the chronicles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. |
Therefore paucas pallabris; let the world slide: sessa! |
Hostess: You will not pay for the glasses you have burst? |
SLY: No, not a denier. |
Go by, Jeronimy: go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. |
Hostess: I know my remedy; I must go fetch the third--borough. |
SLY: Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, I'll answer him by law: I'll not budge an inch, boy: let him come, and kindly. |
Lord: Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well my hounds: Brach Merriman, the poor cur is emboss'd; And couple Clowder with the deep--mouth'd brach. |
Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault? |
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. |
First Huntsman: Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord; He cried upon it at the merest loss And twice to-day pick'd out the dullest scent: Trust me, I take him for the better dog. |
Lord: Thou art a fool: if Echo were as fleet, I would esteem him worth a dozen such. |
But sup them well and look unto them all: To-morrow I intend to hunt again. |
First Huntsman: I will, my lord. |
Lord: What's here? |
one dead, or drunk? |
See, doth he breathe? |
Second Huntsman: He breathes, my lord. |
Were he not warm'd with ale, This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. |
Lord: O monstrous beast! |
how like a swine he lies! |
Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image! |
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. |
What think you, if he were convey'd to bed, Wrapp'd in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers, A most delicious banquet by his bed, And brave attendants near him when he wakes, Would not the beggar then forget himself? |
First Huntsman: Believe me, lord, I think he cannot choose. |
Second Huntsman: It would seem strange unto him when he waked. |
Lord: Even as a flattering dream or worthless fancy. |