Esca. Why, no.

Clown. I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him: Good then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could master Froth do the constable's wife any harm? I would know that of your honour.

Esca. He's in the right: Constable, what say you to it?

Elb. First, an it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman.

Clown. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all.

Elb. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet; the time is yet to come, that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.

Clown. Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.

Esca. Which is the wiser here? Justice, or Iniquity?-Is this true?

Elb. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal! I respected with her, before I was married to her? If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke's officer:-Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee.

Esca. If he took you a box 'o the ear, you might have your action of slander too.

Elb. Marry, I thank your good worship for it: What is't your worship's pleasure I should do with this wicked caitiff?

Esca. Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him, that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses, till thou know'st what they are.

Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it:-Thou seest, thou wicked varlet now, what's come upon thee; thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to continue.

Esca. Where were you born, friend? [To Froth. Froth. Here, in Vienna, sir.

Esca. Are you of fourscore pounds a year?

Froth. Yes, and't please you, sir.

Esca. So. What trade are you of, sir? [To the Clow. Clown. A tapster; a poor widow's tapster.

Esca. Your mistress's name?

Clown. Mistress Over-done.

Esca. Hath she had any more than one husband? Clown. Nine, sir; Over-done by the last.

Esca. Nine!-Come hither to me, master Froth.Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters; they will draw you, master Froth, and you will hang them: Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you.

Froth. I thank your worship: For mine own part, I never come into any room in a taphouse, but I am drawn in.

Esca. Well; no more of it, master Froth: farewell. [Exit Froth.] Come you hither to me, master tapster; what's your name, master tapster? Clown. Pompey. Esca. What else?

Clown. Bum, sir.

Esca. Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster. Are you not? come, tell me true; it shall be the better for you.

it a lawful trade ?

Clown. If the law would allow it, sir.

Esca. But the law will not allow it, Pompey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.

Clown. Does your worship mean to geld and spay all the youth in the city?

Esca. No, pompey.

Clown. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then: If your worship will take order for the drahs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.

Esca. There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you: It is but heading and hanging.

Clown. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it, after three-pence a bay: If you live to see this come to pass, say, Pompey told you so.

Esca. Thank you, good Pompey: and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you, I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoever, no, not for dwelling where you do; if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Cæsar to you; in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipt: so, for this time, Pompey, fare you well.

Clown. I thank your worship for your good counsel: but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune shall better determine.

Whip me? No, no; let carman whip his jade;

The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade. [Exit.

Esca. Come hither to me, master Elbow; come hither, master constable. How long have you been in this place of constable ?

Elb. Seven year and a half, sir.

Esca. I thought, by your readiness in the office, you had continued in it some time: You say, seven years together?

Elb. And a half, sir.

Esca. Alas! it hath been great pains to you! They do you wrong to put you so oft upon't: Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it?

Elb. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all.

Esca. Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish.

Elb. To your worship's house, sir? Esca. To my house: Fare you well. What's o'clock, think you ?

Just. Eleven, sir.

Esca. I pray you home to dinner with me. Just. I humbly thank you.

[Ex. Elb.

Prov. 'Save your honour!

[Offering to retire.

Ang. Stay a little while.-[To Isab.] You are welcome: What's your will?

Iach. I am a woeful suitor to your honour,

Please but your honour hear me.

Ang. Well; what's your suit?

Lach. There is a viee, that most I do abhor,

And most desire should meet the blow of justice;

For which I would not plead, but that I must;

For which I must not plead, but that I am

At war, twist will, and will not.

Ang

Well; the matter?

Isab. I have a brother is condenn'd to die:

I do beseech you, let it be his fault,

And not my brother.

Prov.

Heaven give thee moving graces!

Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it! Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done : Mine were the very cypher of a function,

To find the faults, whose fine stands in record,

And let go by the actor.

Laab.

O just, but severe law !

I had a brother then.-Heaven keep your honour! [Retiring.

Lucis. [To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him;

Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown;

You are too cold: If you should need a pin,

You could not with more tame a tongue desire it:
To him, I say.

[To Isab.

Isab. Too late? why, no; I, that do speak a word,

May call it back again: Well, believe this,
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace,
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have slipt like him;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.
Ang. Pray you, be gone.

Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency,
And you were Isabel! should it be then thus?
No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prisoner.

Lucio. [Aside.] Ay, touch him: there's the vein.

Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,

And you but waste your words.

Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once;
And He that might the vantage best have took,
Found out the remedy: How would you be,
If He, which is the top of judgement, should
But judge you as you are? O, think on that;
And mercy then will breathe within your lips
Like man new made.

Ang.

Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

It should be thus with him; he must die to-morrow. Isab. To-morrow? O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him:

He's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season: shall we serve heaven

With less respect than we do minister

To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you: Who is it that hath died for this offence?

There's many have committed it.

And he, that suffers: O, it is excellent

To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous

To use it like a giant.

Lucio.

That's well said.

Isab. Could great men thunder

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet,

Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will relent. He's coming, I perceiv't.

Prov.

Pray heaven, she win him! Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself: Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them; But, in the less, foul profanation.

Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl; more o' that.
Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word,

Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Lucio. Art advis'd o' that? more on't.

Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me?
Isab. Because authority, though it err like others,

Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself,

That skims the vice o' the top: Go to your bosom; Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth know That's like my brother's fault: if it confess

A natural guiltiness, such as is his,

Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
Against my brother's life.

Ang.

She speaks, and 'tis

Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.-Fare you

Ang. At any time 'fore noon.

Isab.

Save your honour!

[Exeunt Lucio, Isab. and Prov.

Ang. From thee; even from thy virtue!-
What's this? what's this? Is this her fault, or mine?
The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha!
Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I,

That lying by the violet, in the sun,
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower,
Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be,
That modesty may more betray our sense

Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,

And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet,
With all her double vigour, art, and nature,
Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid
Subdues me quite;-Ever, till now,
When men were fond, I smil'd, and wonder'd how.

SCENE IV-A Room in Angelo's House. Enter Angelo.

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects; heaven hath my empty words;
Whilst my intention, hearing not my tongue,
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name;

And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil
Of my conception: The state, whereon I studied,
Is like a good thing, being often read,

Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity,
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride,
Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form!
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming? Blood, thou still art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn,
Tis not the devil's crest.

Isab.

Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul.

Ang. I talk not of your soul; Our compell'd sins

Stand more for number than accompt.
Isab.

How say you?
Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that; for I can speak
Against the thing I say. Answer to this;-
I, now the voice of the recorded law,
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life :
Might there not be a charity in sin,

To save this brother's life?
Isab.

Please you to do't,

I'll take it as a peril to my soul,

It is no sin at all, but charity.

Ang. Pleas'd you to do't, at peril of your soul,

Were equal poize of sin and charity.

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn prayer To have it added to the faults of mine,

And nothing of your, answer.

Ang.

Nay, but hear me :

Your sense pursues not mine: either you are ignorant; Or seem so, craftily; and that's not good.

Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, But graciously to know I am no better.

Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear more bright, When it doth tax itself: as these black masks Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could displayed.-But mark me; To be received plain, I'll speak more gross: Your brother is to die.

Isab. So.

Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain. Isab. True.

Ang. Admit no other way to save his life, (As I subscribe not that, nor any other, But in the loss of question,) that you, his sister, Finding yourself desir'd of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-binding law; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else let him suffer; What would you do?

Isab. As much for my poor brother, as myself: That is, Were I under the terms of death, The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed

That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield

My body up to shame.

Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence

That you have slander'd so ?

Isah. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon,

Are of two houses: lawful mercy is

Nothing akin to foul redemption.

Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;

And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment than a vice.

Isab. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean:
I something do excuse the thing I hate,

For his advantage that I dearly love.