Fri. May your grace speak of it? Duke. My holy fir, none better knows than you
How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd; And held in idle price to haunt assemblies, Where youth and cost and witless bravery keep. I have deliver'd to lord Angelo
(A man of stricture, and firm abstinence) My absolute pow'r and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me travell'd to Poland; For fo I've strew'd it in the common ear, And so it is receiv'd: now, pious fir, You will demand of me, why I do this? Fri. Gladly, my lord.
Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting laws, (The needful bits and curbs for head-strong steeds) Which for this nineteen years we have let fleep; Even like an o'er-grown 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 childrens fight, 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.
Fri. It rested in your grace T' unloose this ty'd-up justice, when you pleas'd : And it in you more dreadful would have feem'd Than in lord Angelo.
Duke. I 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 When evil deeds have their permissive pass, And not the punishment. Therefore, 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 it flander: to behold his sway, I will, as 'twere a brother of your order, Visit both prince and people; therefore, pr'ythee, Supply me with the habit, and instruct me How I may formally my person bear Like a true friar. More reasons for this action
At your more leisure shall I render you; Only this one: lord Angelo is precife, Stands at a guard with envy, scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than ftone: hence shall we fee, If power change purpose, what our feemers be.
Enter Isabella, and Francisca.
ND have you nuns no farther privileges? Nun. Are not these large enough?
Ifab. Yes, truly; I speak not as defiring more, But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the fifter votarists of faint Clare.
Lucio. Hoa! peace be in this place!
Ifab. Who's that which calls?
Nun. 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 prefence of the priorefs ;
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.
Ifab. Peace and profperity! who is't that calls?
Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-rofes Proclaim you are no less; can you so stead me, As bring me to the fight of Isabella,
A novice of this place, and the fair fifter
To her unhappy brother Claudio?
Ifab. Why her unhappy brother? let me ask
The rather, for I now must make you know I am that Ifabella, and his sister.
Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you; Not to be weary with you, he's in prifon.
Lucio. For that, which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks; He hath got his friend with child.
Ifab. Sir, make me not your story.
Lucio. I would not, though 'tis my familiar fin With maids to feem the lapwing, and to jeft, Tongue far from heart, play with all virgins fo. I hold you as a thing ensky'd and fainted, By your renouncement an immortal spirit, And to be talk'd with in fincerity,
Ifab. You do blafpheme the good, in mocking me. Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus;
Your brother and his lover having embrac'd,
As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time
Doth from the feedness the bare fallow bring
To teeming foifon; fo her plenteous womb
Expresseth its full tilth and husbandry.
Ifab. Some one with child by him? my cousin Juliet? Lucio. Is she your coufin?
Ifab. Adoptedly, as school-maids change their names,
By vain, though apt, affection.
Lucio. She it is.
Ifab. Let him then 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 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 faft. He, to give fear to use and liberty, Which have long time 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's gone, Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer To foften Angelo; and that's my pith Of business betwixt you and your poor brother.
Ifab. Doth he so seek his life? Lucio. H'as cenfur'd him
Already, and, I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution.
Ifab. Alas! what poor ability's in me
Lucio. Assay the power you have.
Ifab. 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 fue
Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel,
All their petitions are as truly theirs,
As they themselves would owe them.
Ifab. I'll fee what I can do.
Lucio. But speedily.
Ifab. 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: foon at night I'll fend him certain word of my success. Lucio. I take my leave of you. Ifab. Good fir, adieu.
ACT II. SCENE I. The Palace.
Enter Angelo, Escalus, a Justice, and Attendants.
E must not make a scare-crow of the law, it up to fear the birds of prey,
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it
Their perch, and not their terror.
Efcal. Ay, but yet
Let us be keen, and rather cut a little,
Than fall, and bruise to death. Alas! this gentleman,
Whom I would save, had a most noble father;
Let but your honour know, whom I believe
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