The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 325

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 governor Awakes 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 strict deputy; bid herself a.s.say him.

I have great hope in that; for in her youth There is a p.r.o.ne 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 a.s.semblies 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 pa.s.s 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 appet.i.te 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 strict restraint Upon 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 With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest, Tongue far from heart- play with all virgins so: I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted, By your renouncement an immortal spirit, And to be talk'd with in sincerity, As with a saint.

ISABELLA. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.

LUCIO. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus: Your brother and his lover have embrac'd.

As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.

ISABELLA. Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet?

LUCIO. Is she your cousin?

ISABELLA. Adoptedly, as school-maids change their names By vain though apt affection.

LUCIO. She it is.

ISABELLA. O, let him marry her!

LUCIO. This is the point.

The Duke is very strangely gone from hence; Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand, and hope of action; but we do learn, By those that know the very nerves of state, His givings-out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. Upon his place, And with full line of his authority, Governs Lord Angelo, a man whose blood Is very snow-broth, one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense, But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge With profits of the mind, study and fast.

He- to give fear to use and liberty, Which have for long run by the hideous law, As mice by lions- hath pick'd out an act Under whose heavy sense your brother's life Falls into forfeit; he arrests him on it, And follows close the rigour of the statute To make him an example. All hope is gone, Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer To soften Angelo. And that's my pith of business 'Twixt you and your poor brother.

ISABELLA. Doth he so seek his life?

LUCIO. Has censur'd him Already, and, as I hear, the Provost hath A warrant for his execution.

ISABELLA. Alas! what poor ability's in me To do him good?

LUCIO. a.s.say the pow'r you have.

ISABELLA. My power, alas, I doubt!

LUCIO. Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo, And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, Men give like G.o.ds; but when they weep and kneel, All their pet.i.tions are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them.

ISABELLA. I'll see what I can do.

LUCIO. But speedily.

ISABELLA. I will about it straight; No longer staying but to give the Mother Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you.

Commend me to my brother; soon at night I'll send him certain word of my success.

LUCIO. I take my leave of you.

ISABELLA. Good sir, adieu. Exeunt

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ACT II. Scene I.