SCENE: Vienna   ACT I. SCENE I. The DUKE'S palace  Enter DUKE, ESCALUS, LORDS, and ATTENDANTS    DUKE. Escalus!   ESCALUS. My lord.   DUKE. Of government the properties to unfold     Would seem in me t' affect speech and discourse,     Since I am put to know that your own science     Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice     My strength can give you; then no more remains     But that to your sufficiency- as your worth is able-     And let them work. The nature of our people,     Our city's institutions, and the terms     For common justice, y'are as pregnant in     As art and practice hath enriched any     That we remember. There is our commission,     From which we would not have you warp. Call hither,     I say, bid come before us, Angelo.         Exit an ATTENDANT     What figure of us think you he will bear?     For you must know we have with special soul     Elected him our absence to supply;     Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love,     And given his deputation all the organs     Of our own power. What think you of it?   ESCALUS. If any in Vienna be of worth     To undergo such ample grace and honour,     It is Lord Angelo.                            Enter ANGELO    DUKE. Look where he comes.   ANGELO. Always obedient to your Grace's will,     I come to know your pleasure.   DUKE. Angelo,     There is a kind of character in thy life     That to th' observer doth thy history     Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings     Are not thine own so proper as to waste     Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.     Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,     Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues     Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike     As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd     But to fine issues; nor Nature never lends     The smallest scruple of her excellence     But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines     Herself the glory of a creditor,     Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech     To one that can my part in him advertise.     Hold, therefore, Angelo-     In our remove be thou at full ourself;     Mortality and mercy in Vienna     Live in thy tongue and heart. Old Escalus,     Though first in question, is thy secondary.     Take thy commission.   ANGELO. Now, good my lord,     Let there be some more test made of my metal,     Before so noble and so great a figure     Be stamp'd upon it.   DUKE. No more evasion!     We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice     Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours.     Our haste from hence is of so quick condition     That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd     Matters of needful value. We shall write to you,     As time and our concernings shall importune,     How it goes with us, and do look to know     What doth befall you here. So, fare you well.     To th' hopeful execution do I leave you     Of your commissions.   ANGELO. Yet give leave, my lord,     That we may bring you something on the way.   DUKE. My haste may not admit it;     Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do     With any scruple: your scope is as mine own,     So to enforce or qualify the laws     As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand;     I'll privily away. I love the people,     But do not like to stage me to their eyes;     Though it do well, I do not relish well     Their loud applause and Aves vehement;     Nor do I think the man of safe discretion     That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.   ANGELO. The heavens give safety to your purposes!   ESCALUS. Lead forth and bring you back in happiness!   DUKE. I thank you. Fare you well.                         Exit   ESCALUS. I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave     To have free speech with you; and it concerns me     To look into the bottom of my place:     A pow'r I have, but of what strength and nature     I am not yet instructed.   ANGELO. 'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together,     And we may soon our satisfaction have     Touching that point.   ESCALUS. I'll wait upon your honour.                    Exeunt     SCENE II. A street  Enter Lucio and two other GENTLEMEN    LUCIO. If the Duke, with the other dukes, come not to composition     with the King of Hungary, why then all the dukes fall upon the     King.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of     Hungary's!   SECOND GENTLEMAN. Amen.   LUCIO. Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate that went to     sea with the Ten Commandments, but scrap'd one out of the table.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Thou shalt not steal'?   LUCIO. Ay, that he raz'd.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain     and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steal.     There's not a soldier of us all that, in the thanksgiving before     meat, do relish the petition well that prays for peace.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. I never heard any soldier dislike it.   LUCIO. I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where grace was     said.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. No? A dozen times at least.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. What, in metre?   LUCIO. In any proportion or in any language.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. I think, or in any religion.   LUCIO. Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy; as,     for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all     grace.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Well, there went but a pair of shears between us.   LUCIO. I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet.     Thou art the list.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. And thou the velvet; thou art good velvet; thou'rt     a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee. I had as lief be a list of     an English kersey as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French     velvet. Do I speak feelingly now?   LUCIO. I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful feeling of     thy speech. I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin     thy health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. I think I have done myself wrong, have I not?   SECOND GENTLEMAN. Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or     free.                          Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE    LUCIO. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes! I have     purchas'd as many diseases under her roof as come to-   SECOND GENTLEMAN. To what, I pray?   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Judge.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. To three thousand dolours a year.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, and more.   LUCIO. A French crown more.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Thou art always figuring diseases in me, but thou     art full of error; I am sound.   LUCIO. Nay, not, as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things     that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a feast     of thee.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. How now! which of your hips has the most profound     sciatica?   MRS. OVERDONE. Well, well! there's one yonder arrested and carried     to prison was worth five thousand of you all.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Who's that, I pray thee?   MRS. OVERDONE. Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. Claudio to prison? 'Tis not so.   MRS. OVERDONE. Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested; saw him     carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his     head to be chopp'd off.   LUCIO. But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. Art     thou sure of this?   MRS. OVERDONE. I am too sure of it; and it is for getting Madam     Julietta with child.   LUCIO. Believe me, this may be; he promis'd to meet me two hours     since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping.   SECOND GENTLEMAN. Besides, you know, it draws something near to the     speech we had to such a purpose.   FIRST GENTLEMAN. But most of all agreeing with the proclamation.   LUCIO. Away; let's go learn the truth of it.                                       Exeunt Lucio and GENTLEMEN   MRS. OVERDONE. Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what     with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk.                                 Enter POMPEY      How now! what's the news with you?   POMPEY. Yonder man is carried to prison.   MRS. OVERDONE. Well, what has he done?   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 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 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 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. Assay 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 gods; but when they weep and kneel,     All their petitions 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