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• 1 2016-11-13T12:26:59-08:00 Act III 48 Measure for Measure Act III plain 2016-12-13T19:38:39-08:00 Scene 1
  Enter Duke as a Friar, Claudio, and Provost.
   
  DUKE, as Friar
  So then you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?
  CLAUDIO
  The miserable have no other medicine
  But only hope.
  I have hope to live and am prepared to die.                                                  
  DUKE, as Friar
  
  Be absolute for death. Either death or life                                              5
  Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:
  If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
  That none but fools would keep. A breath thou art,
  Servile to all the skyey influences
  That doth this habitation where thou keep’st                                        10
  Hourly afflict. Merely, thou art death’s fool,
  For him thou labor’st by thy flight to shun,
  And yet runn’st toward him still. Thou art not noble,
  For all th’ accommodations that thou bear’st
  Are nursed by baseness. Thou ’rt by no means                                     15
  valiant,
  For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
  Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
  And that thou oft provok’st, yet grossly fear’st
  Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself,                               20
  For thou exists on many a thousand grains
  That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not,
  For what thou hast not, still thou striv’st to get,
  And what thou hast, forget’st. Thou art not certain,
  For thy complexion shifts to strange effects                                         25
  After the moon. If thou art rich, thou ’rt poor,
  For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
  Thou bear’st thy heavy riches but a journey,
  And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none,
  For thine own bowels which do call thee sire,                                       30
  The mere effusion of thy proper loins,
  Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum
  For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor
  age,
  But as it were an after-dinner’s sleep                                                    35
  Dreaming on both, for all thy blessèd youth
  Becomes as agèd and doth beg the alms
  Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
  Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty
  To make thy riches pleasant. What’s yet in this                                     40
  That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
  Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear,
  That makes these odds all even.
  CLAUDIO  I humbly thank you.
  To sue to live, I find I seek to die,                                                         45
  And seeking death, find life. Let it come on.
  ISABELLA, within
  What ho! Peace here, grace, and good company.
  PROVOST
  Who’s there? Come in. The wish deserves a welcome.
  DUKE, as Friar, to Claudio
  Dear sir, ere long I’ll visit you again.
  CLAUDIO  Most holy sir, I thank you.                                                    50
   
  Enter Isabella.
   
  ISABELLA, to Provost
  My business is a word or two with Claudio.
  PROVOST
  And very welcome.—Look, signior, here’s your
  sister.
  DUKE, as Friar  Provost, a word with you.
  PROVOST  As many as you please.                                                        55
  DUKE, as Friar, aside to Provost
  Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be
  concealed.
  Duke and Provost exit.
  CLAUDIO  Now, sister, what’s the comfort?
  ISABELLA  Why,
  As all comforts are, most good, most good indeed.                              60
  Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
  Intends you for his swift ambassador,
  Where you shall be an everlasting leiger;
  Therefore your best appointment make with speed.
  Tomorrow you set on.                                                                           65
  CLAUDIO  Is there no remedy?
  ISABELLA
  None but such remedy as, to save a head,
  To cleave a heart in twain.
  CLAUDIO  But is there any?
  ISABELLA  Yes, brother, you may live.                                                   70
  There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
  If you’ll implore it, that will free your life
  But fetter you till death.
  CLAUDIO  Perpetual durance?
  ISABELLA
  Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint,                                                 75
  Though all the world’s vastidity you had,
  To a determined scope.
  CLAUDIO  But in what nature?
  ISABELLA
  In such a one as, you consenting to ’t,
  Would bark your honor from that trunk you bear                                  80
  And leave you naked.
  CLAUDIO  Let me know the point.
  ISABELLA
  O, I do fear thee, Claudio, and I quake
  Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,
  And six or seven winters more respect                                                  85
  Than a perpetual honor. Dar’st thou die?
  The sense of death is most in apprehension,
  And the poor beetle that we tread upon
  In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
  As when a giant dies.                                                                            90
  CLAUDIO  Why give you me this shame?
  Think you I can a resolution fetch
  From flowery tenderness? If I must die,
  I will encounter darkness as a bride,
  And hug it in mine arms.                                                                       95
  ISABELLA
  There spake my brother! There my father’s grave
  Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die.
  Thou art too noble to conserve a life
  In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy—
  Whose settled visage and deliberate word                                           100
  Nips youth i’ th’ head, and follies doth enew
  As falcon doth the fowl—is yet a devil.
  His filth within being cast, he would appear
  A pond as deep as hell.
  CLAUDIO  The prenzie Angelo?                                                            105
  ISABELLA
  O, ’tis the cunning livery of hell
  The damned’st body to invest and
  cover In prenzie guards.
  Dost thou think, Claudio,
  If I would yield him my virginity
  
  Thou mightst be freed?                                                                        110
  CLAUDIO  O heavens, it cannot be!
  ISABELLA
  Yes, he would give ’t thee; from this rank offense,
  So to offend him still. This night’s the time
  That I should do what I abhor to name,
  Or else thou diest tomorrow.                                                               115
  CLAUDIO  Thou shalt not do ’t.
  ISABELLA  O, were it but my life,
  I’d throw it down for your deliverance
  As frankly as a pin.
  CLAUDIO  Thanks, dear Isabel.                                                            120
  ISABELLA
  Be ready, Claudio, for your death tomorrow.
  CLAUDIO  Yes. Has he affections in him
  That thus can make him bite the law by th’ nose,
  When he would force it? Sure it is no sin,
  Or of the deadly seven it is the least.                                                  125
  ISABELLA  Which is the least?
  CLAUDIO
  If it were damnable, he being so wise,
  Why would he for the momentary trick
  Be perdurably fined? O, Isabel—
  ISABELLA
  What says my brother?                                                                        130
  CLAUDIO  Death is a fearful thing.
  ISABELLA  And shamèd life a hateful.
  CLAUDIO
  Ay, but to die, and go we know not where,
  To lie in cold obstruction and to rot,
  This sensible warm motion to become                                                135
  A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
  To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
  In thrilling region of thick-ribbèd ice,
  To be imprisoned in the viewless winds
  And blown with restless violence round about                                    140
  The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
  Of those that lawless and incertain thought
  Imagine howling—’tis too horrible.
  The weariest and most loathèd worldly life
  That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment                                        145
  Can lay on nature is a paradise
  To what we fear of death.
  ISABELLA  Alas, alas!
  CLAUDIO  Sweet sister, let me live.
  What sin you do to save a brother’s life,                                            150
  Nature dispenses with the deed so far
  That it becomes a virtue.
  ISABELLA  O, you beast! O faithless coward,
  O dishonest wretch,
  Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?                                          155
  Is ’t not a kind of incest to take life
  From thine own sister’s shame? What should I think?
  Heaven shield my mother played my father fair,
  For such a warpèd slip of wilderness
  Ne’er issued from his blood. Take my defiance;                                160
  Die, perish. Might but my bending down
  Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed.
  I’ll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
  No word to save thee.
  CLAUDIO  Nay, hear me, Isabel—                                                      165
  ISABELLA  O, fie, fie, fie!
  Thy sin’s not accidental, but a trade.
  Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd.
  ’Tis best that thou diest quickly.
  CLAUDIO  O, hear me, Isabella—                                                      170
   
  Enter Duke as a Friar.
   
  DUKE, as Friar, to Isabella
  Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.
  ISABELLA  What is your will?
  DUKE, as Friar  Might you dispense with your leisure, I
  would by and by have some speech with you. The
  satisfaction I would require is likewise your own                             175
  benefit.
  ISABELLA  I have no superfluous leisure. My stay must
  be stolen out of other affairs, but I will attend you
  awhile.
  DUKE, as Friar, taking Claudio aside  Son, I have overheard             180
  what hath passed between you and your
  sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her;
  only he hath made an assay of her virtue, to practice
  his judgment with the disposition of natures. She,
  having the truth of honor in her, hath made him                             185
  that gracious denial which he is most glad to
  receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this
  to be true. Therefore prepare yourself to death. Do
  not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are
  fallible. Tomorrow you must die. Go to your knees                          190
  and make ready.
  CLAUDIO  Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of
  love with life that I will sue to be rid of it.
  DUKE, as Friar  Hold you there. Farewell.—Provost, a
  word with you.                                                                                 195
   
  Enter Provost.
   
  PROVOST  What’s your will, father?
  DUKE, as Friar  That now you are come, you will be
  gone. Leave me awhile with the maid. My mind
  promises with my habit no loss shall touch her by
  my company.                                                                                   200
  PROVOST  In good time.                He exits, with Claudio.
  DUKE, as Friar, to Isabella  The hand that hath made
  you fair hath made you good. The goodness that is
  cheap in beauty makes beauty brief in goodness,
  but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall                         205
  keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo
  hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to my
  understanding; and but that frailty hath examples
  for his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will
  you do to content this substitute and to save your                           210
  brother?
  ISABELLA  I am now going to resolve him. I had rather
  my brother die by the law than my son should be
  unlawfully born. But, O, how much is the good
  duke deceived in Angelo! If ever he return, and I                              215
  can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or
  discover his government.
  
  DUKE, as Friar  That shall not be much amiss. Yet, as
  the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation:
  he made trial of you only. Therefore, fasten                                     220
  your ear on my advisings. To the love I have in doing
  good, a remedy presents itself. I do make myself
  believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor
  wronged lady a merited benefit, redeem your brother
  from the angry law, do no stain to your own                                    225
  gracious person, and much please the absent duke,
  if peradventure he shall ever return to have hearing
  of this business.
  ISABELLA  Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to
  do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my                        230
  spirit.
  DUKE, as Friar  Virtue is bold, and goodness never
  fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the
  sister of Frederick, the great soldier who miscarried
  at sea?                                                                                             235
  ISABELLA  I have heard of the lady, and good words
  went with her name.
  DUKE, as Friar  She should this Angelo have married,
  was affianced to her oath, and the nuptial appointed.
  Between which time of the contract and                                          240
  limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was
  wracked at sea, having in that perished vessel the
  dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell
  to the poor gentlewoman. There she lost a noble
  and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever                          245
  most kind and natural; with him, the portion and
  sinew of her fortune, her marriage dowry; with
  both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming
  Angelo.
  ISABELLA  Can this be so? Did Angelo so leave her?                         250
  DUKE, as Friar  Left her in her tears and dried not one
  of them with his comfort, swallowed his vows
  whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonor; in
  few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which
  she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her                         255
  tears, is washed with them but relents not.
  ISABELLA  What a merit were it in death to take this
  poor maid from the world! What corruption in this
  life, that it will let this man live! But how out of this
  can she avail?                                                                                  260
  DUKE, as Friar  It is a rupture that you may easily heal,
  and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but
  keeps you from dishonor in doing it.
  ISABELLA  Show me how, good father.
  DUKE, as Friar  This forenamed maid hath yet in her                       265
  the continuance of her first affection. His unjust
  unkindness, that in all reason should have
  quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the
  current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to
  Angelo, answer his requiring with a plausible obedience,                 270
  agree with his demands to the point. Only
  refer yourself to this advantage: first, that your stay
  with him may not be long, that the time may have all
  shadow and silence in it, and the place answer to
  convenience. This being granted in course, and                                275
  now follows all: we shall advise this wronged maid
  to stead up your appointment, go in your place. If
  the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may
  compel him to her recompense; and here, by this, is
  your brother saved, your honor untainted, the poor                           280
  Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy
  scaled. The maid will I frame and make fit for his
  attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may,
  the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit
  from reproof. What think you of it?                                                     285
  ISABELLA  The image of it gives me content already, and
  I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.
  DUKE, as Friar  It lies much in your holding up. Haste
  you speedily to Angelo. If for this night he entreat
  you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I                              290
  will presently to Saint Luke’s. There at the moated
  grange resides this dejected Mariana. At that place
  call upon me, and dispatch with Angelo that it may
  be quickly.
  
  ISABELLA  I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well,                         295
  good father.
  She exits. The Duke remains.
   
  Scene 2
  Enter Elbow, Pompey, and Officers.
   
  ELBOW, to Pompey  Nay, if there be no remedy for it
  but that you will needs buy and sell men and
  women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink
  brown and white bastard.
  DUKE, as Friar, aside  O heavens, what stuff is here?                             5
  POMPEY  ’Twas never merry world since, of two usuries,
  the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed
  by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm,
  and furred with fox and lambskins too, to signify
  that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for                              10
  the facing.
  ELBOW  Come your way, sir.—Bless you, good father
  friar.
  DUKE, as Friar  And you, good brother father. What
  offense hath this man made you, sir?                                                 15
  ELBOW  Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir,
  we take him to be a thief too, sir, for we have found
  upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have
  sent to the Deputy.
  DUKE, as Friar, to Pompey
  Fie, sirrah, a bawd, a wicked bawd!                                                    20
  The evil that thou causest to be done,
  That is thy means to live. Do thou but think
  What ’tis to cram a maw or clothe a back
  From such a filthy vice; say to thyself,
  From their abominable and beastly touches                                       25
  I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.
  Canst thou believe thy living is a life,
  So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.
  POMPEY  Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir. But yet,
  sir, I would prove—                                                                           30
  DUKE, as Friar
  Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin,
  Thou wilt prove his.—Take him to prison, officer.
  Correction and instruction must both work
  Ere this rude beast will profit.
  ELBOW  He must before the Deputy, sir; he has given                        35
  him warning. The Deputy cannot abide a whoremaster.
  If he be a whoremonger and comes before
  him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
  DUKE, as Friar
  That we were all, as some would seem to be,
  From our faults, as faults from seeming, free.                                   40
  ELBOW  His neck will come to your waist—a cord, sir.
   
  Enter Lucio.
   
  POMPEY  I spy comfort, I cry bail. Here’s a gentleman
  and a friend of mine.
  LUCIO  How now, noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of
  Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there                                 45
  none of Pygmalion’s images, newly made woman,
  to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket
  and extracting it clutched? What reply, ha? What
  sayst thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is ’t not
  drowned i’ th’ last rain, ha? What sayst thou, trot? Is                         50
  the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad
  and few words? Or how? The trick of it?
  DUKE, as Friar, aside  Still thus, and thus; still worse.
  LUCIO, to Pompey  How doth my dear morsel, thy
  mistress? Procures she still, ha?                                                        55
  POMPEY  Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and
  she is herself in the tub.
  LUCIO  Why, ’tis good. It is the right of it. It must be so.
  Ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd, an
  unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to                        60
  prison, Pompey?
  POMPEY  Yes, faith, sir.
  LUCIO  Why, ’tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell. Go say I
  sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? Or how?
  ELBOW  For being a bawd, for being a bawd.                                     65
  LUCIO  Well, then, imprison him. If imprisonment be
  the due of a bawd, why, ’tis his right. Bawd is he,
  doubtless, and of antiquity too. Bawd born.—
  Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison,
  Pompey. You will turn good husband now,                                        70
  Pompey; you will keep the house.
  POMPEY  I hope, sir, your good Worship will be my bail.
  LUCIO  No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the
  wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage.
  If you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is                                   75
  the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey.—Bless you, friar.
  DUKE, as Friar  And you.
  LUCIO, to Pompey  Does Bridget paint still, Pompey,
  ha?
  ELBOW, to Pompey  Come your ways, sir, come.                                 80
  POMPEY, to Lucio  You will not bail me, then, sir?
  LUCIO  Then, Pompey, nor now.—What news abroad,
  friar? What news?
  ELBOW, to Pompey  Come your ways, sir, come.
  LUCIO  Go to kennel, Pompey, go.                                                      85
  Elbow, Pompey, and Officers exit.
  What news, friar, of the Duke?
  DUKE, as Friar I know none. Can you tell me of any?
  LUCIO  Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia;
  other some, he is in Rome. But where is he, think
  you?                                                                                                   90
  DUKE, as Friar  I know not where, but wheresoever, I
  wish him well.
  LUCIO  It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state
  and usurp the beggary he was never born to.
  Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence.                                           95
  He puts transgression to ’t.
  DUKE, as Friar  He does well in ’t.
  LUCIO  A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm
  in him. Something too crabbed that way, friar.
  DUKE, as Friar  It is too general a vice, and severity                           100
  must cure it.
  LUCIO  Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred;
  it is well allied, but it is impossible to extirp it quite,
  friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say
  this Angelo was not made by man and woman after                          105
  this downright way of creation. Is it true, think
  you?
  DUKE, as Friar  How should he be made, then?
  LUCIO  Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some,
  that he was begot between two stockfishes. But it is                         110
  certain that when he makes water, his urine is
  congealed ice; that I know to be true. And he is a
  motion generative, that’s infallible.
  DUKE, as Friar  You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace.
  LUCIO  Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the                    115
  rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a
  man! Would the duke that is absent have done this?
  Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting
  a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the
  nursing a thousand. He had some feeling of the                                120
  sport, he knew the service, and that instructed him
  to mercy.
  DUKE, as Friar  I never heard the absent duke much
  detected for women. He was not inclined that way.
  LUCIO  O, sir, you are deceived.                                                          125
  DUKE, as Friar  ’Tis not possible.
  LUCIO  Who, not the Duke? Yes, your beggar of fifty;
  and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish. The
  Duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too,
  that let me inform you.                                                                      130
  DUKE, as Friar  You do him wrong, surely.
  LUCIO  Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the
  Duke, and I believe I know the cause of his
  withdrawing.
  DUKE, as Friar  What, I prithee, might be the cause?                          135
  LUCIO  No, pardon. ’Tis a secret must be locked within
  the teeth and the lips. But this I can let you
  understand: the greater file of the subject held the
  Duke to be wise.
  DUKE, as Friar  Wise? Why, no question but he was.                          140
  LUCIO  A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.
  DUKE, as Friar  Either this is envy in you, folly, or
  mistaking. The very stream of his life and the
  business he hath helmed must, upon a warranted
  need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be                             145
  but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he
  shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman,
  and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskillfully. Or,
  if your knowledge be more, it is much darkened in
  your malice.                                                                                      150
  LUCIO  Sir, I know him, and I love him.
  DUKE, as Friar  Love talks with better knowledge, and
  knowledge with dearer love.
  LUCIO  Come, sir, I know what I know.
  DUKE, as Friar  I can hardly believe that, since you                          155
  know not what you speak. But if ever the Duke
  return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you
  to make your answer before him. If it be honest you
  have spoke, you have courage to maintain it. I am
  bound to call upon you, and, I pray you, your name?                      160
  LUCIO  Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the Duke.
  DUKE, as Friar  He shall know you better, sir, if I may
  live to report you.
  LUCIO  I fear you not.
  DUKE, as Friar  O, you hope the Duke will return no                       165
  more, or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite.
  But indeed I can do you little harm; you’ll
  forswear this again.
  LUCIO  I’ll be hanged first. Thou art deceived in me,
  friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio                       170
  die tomorrow or no?
  DUKE, as Friar  Why should he die, sir?
  LUCIO  Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would
  the Duke we talk of were returned again. This
  ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with                        175
  continency. Sparrows must not build in his house
  eaves, because they are lecherous. The Duke yet
  would have dark deeds darkly answered. He would
  never bring them to light Would he were returned.
  Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing.                          180
  Farewell, good friar. I prithee pray for me. The
  Duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on
  Fridays. He’s now past it, yet—and I say to thee—
  he would mouth with a beggar though she smelt
  brown bread and garlic. Say that I said so. Farewell.                       185
  He exits.
  DUKE
  No might nor greatness in mortality
  Can censure scape. Back-wounding calumny
  The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong
  Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?
  But who comes here?                                                                      190
   
  Enter Escalus, Provost, Officers, and Mistress
  Overdone, a Bawd.
   
  ESCALUS, to Officers  Go, away with her to prison.
  BAWD  Good my lord, be good to me. Your Honor is
  accounted a merciful man, good my lord.
  ESCALUS  Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit
  in the same kind? This would make mercy                                     195
  swear and play the tyrant.
  PROVOST  A bawd of eleven years’ continuance, may it
  please your Honor.
  BAWD, to Escalus  My lord, this is one Lucio’s information
  against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was                                      200
  with child by him in the Duke’s time; he promised
  her marriage. His child is a year and a quarter old
  come Philip and Jacob. I have kept it myself, and see
  how he goes about to abuse me.
  ESCALUS  That fellow is a fellow of much license. Let                    205
  him be called before us. Away with her to prison.—
  Go to, no more words.                                    Officers exit with Bawd.
  Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered.
  Claudio must die tomorrow. Let him be furnished
  with divines and have all charitable preparation. If                      210
  my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so
  with him.
  PROVOST  So please you, this friar hath been with him,
  and advised him for th’ entertainment of death.
  ESCALUS  Good even, good father.                                                215
  DUKE, as Friar  Bliss and goodness on you.
  ESCALUS  Of whence are you?
  DUKE, as Friar
  Not of this country, though my chance is now
  To use it for my time. I am a brother
  Of gracious order, late come from the See                                           220
  In special business from his Holiness.
  ESCALUS  What news abroad i’ th’ world?
  DUKE, as Friar  None but that there is so great a fever
  on goodness that the dissolution of it must cure it.
  Novelty is only in request, and it is as dangerous to                             225
  be aged in any kind of course as it is virtuous to be
  constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth
  enough alive to make societies secure, but security
  enough to make fellowships accursed. Much upon
  this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news                             230
  is old enough, yet it is every day’s news. I pray you,
  sir, of what disposition was the Duke?
  ESCALUS  One that, above all other strifes, contended
  especially to know himself.
  DUKE, as Friar  What pleasure was he given to?                                    235
  ESCALUS  Rather rejoicing to see another merry than
  merry at anything which professed to make him
  rejoice—a gentleman of all temperance. But leave
  we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove
  prosperous, and let me desire to know how you find                         240
  Claudio prepared. I am made to understand that
  you have lent him visitation.
  DUKE, as Friar  He professes to have received no
  sinister measure from his judge but most willingly
  humbles himself to the determination of justice. Yet                         245
  had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his
  frailty, many deceiving promises of life, which I, by
  my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now
  is he resolved to die.
  ESCALUS  You have paid the heavens your function and                      250
  the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have
  labored for the poor gentleman to the extremest
  shore of my modesty, but my brother justice have I
  found so severe that he hath forced me to tell him
  he is indeed Justice.                                                                            255
  DUKE, as Friar  If his own life answer the straitness of
  his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if
  he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.
  ESCALUS  I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.
  DUKE, as Friar  Peace be with you.                                                      260
  Escalus and Provost exit.
   
  DUKE
  He who the sword of heaven will bear
  Should be as holy as severe,
  Pattern in himself to know,
  Grace to stand, and virtue go;
  More nor less to others paying                                                           265
  Than by self-offenses weighing.
  Shame to him whose cruel striking
  Kills for faults of his own liking.
  Twice treble shame on Angelo,
  To weed my vice, and let his grow.                                                     270
  O, what may man within him hide,
  Though angel on the outward side!
  How may likeness made in crimes,
  Making practice on the times,
  To draw with idle spiders’ strings                                                       275
  Most ponderous and substantial things.
  Craft against vice I must apply.
  With Angelo tonight shall lie
  His old betrothèd but despisèd.
  So disguise shall, by th’ disguisèd,                                                     280
  Pay with falsehood false exacting
  And perform an old contracting.
  He exits.