 Act IV. The Moted Grange at St. Luke's Enter Mariana and a boy. Boy sings. Go take those lips away, that so sweetly were foresworn, and those eyes, the break of day, lights that do mislead the morn. But my kisses bring again, bring again, seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away. Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice hath often stilled my brawling discontent. Boy, enter Duke Vincentio, disguised as before. I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish you had not found me here so musical. Let me excuse me, and believe me so, my mirth it much displeased, but pleased my woe. Tis good, though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good and good provoke to harm. I pray you tell me, hath anybody inquired for me here today, much upon this time hath I promised here to meet. You have not been inquired after. I have sat here all day. Enter Isabella. I do constantly believe you. The time has come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little. Maybe I will call upon you anon for some advantage to yourself. I am always bound to you. Exit. Very well met and welcome. What is the news from this good deputy? He hath a garden, circumured with brick, whose western side is with a vineyard backed, and to that vineyard is a planched gate that makes his opening with this bigger key. This other doth command a little door which from the vineyard to the garden leads. There have I made my promise upon the heavy middle of the night to call upon him. But shall you on your knowledge find this way? I have tain a dew and wary notepaunt, with whispering and most guilty diligence in action all of precepts. He did show me the way twice or. Are there no other tokens between you greed concerning her observance? No, none, but only a repair of the dark. And that I have possessed him my most stay can be but brief. For I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along, that stays upon me, whose persuasion is I come about my brother. It is well borne up. I have not yet made known to Marianna a word of this. What ho? Within. Come forth. Re-enter, Marianna. I pray you be acquainted with this maid. She comes to do you good. I do desire the like. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you? Good friar, I know you do, and have found it. Take then this your companion by the hand, who hath a story ready for your ear. I shall attend your leisure, but make haste, the vaporous night approaches. Wilt please you walk aside. Exceint Marianna and Isabella. Ho, place and greatness. Millions of false eyes are stuck upon thee. Volumes of report run with these false and most contrarious quests upon thy doings. Thousand escapes of wit make thee the father of their idle dreams, and wrack thee in their fancies. Re-enter, Marianna and Isabella. Welcome. How agreed. She'll take the enterprise upon her father, if you advise it. It is not my consent, but my entreaty, too. Little have you to say when you depart from him, but soft and low, remember now my brother. Fear me not. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a pre-contract, to bring you thus together, tis no sin, sith that the justice of your title to him doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go, our corn's to reap, for yet our tithes to sow. Exceint. Act four. Scene two. A room in the prison. Enter provost and Pompey. Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head? If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can. But if he be married man, he's his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head. Come, sir, leave me your snatches and yield me a direct answer. Tomorrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a common executioner, who in his office lacks a helper. If you will take it on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your guives. If not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpityed whipping, for you have been a notorious bod. Sir, I have been an unlawful bored time out of mine, but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I will be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner. What? Ho, a porson. Where's a porson there? Enter a porson. Do you call, sir? Sirrah, here's the fellow will help you tomorrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you. If not, use him for the present and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you. He hath been a bod. Abold, sir? Fire upon him. He will discredit our mystery. Go to, sir. You weigh equally. A feather will turn the scale. Exit. Praise, sir, by your good favour. For surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look. Do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? Aye, sir, a mystery. Painting, sir, I've heard say is a mystery, and your horse, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery. But what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hanged, I cannot imagine. Sir, it is a mystery. Proof. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough. If it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough. So every true man's apparel fits your thief. Re-enter, provost. Are you agreed? Sir, I will serve him, for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your board. He doth often ask forgiveness. You, sir, provide your block in your axe tomorrow, four o'clock. Come on, bald, I one struck thee in my trade. Follow. I do desire to learn, sir, and I hope if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me here. For truly, sir, for your kindness, I owe you a good turn. Call hither Bernardine and Claudio. Exeunt Pompey and Heborson. The one has my pity, not a joth the other, being a murderer, though he were my brother. Enter Claudio. Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death. Tis now dead midnight, and by eight tomorrow thou must be made immortal. Where's Bernardine? As fast locked up in sleep as guiltless labor when it lies starkly in the traveller's bones, he will not wake. What can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. Knocking within. But, Hark, what noise? Heaven, give your spirits comfort. Exit Claudio. Buy and buy. I hope it is some pardon or reprieve for the most gentle Claudio. Enter Duke Vincentio, disguised as before. Welcome, father. The best and wholesomeest spirits of the night envelop you, good provost. Who called here of late? None since the curfew rung. Not Isabel? No. They will then err to be long. What comfort is for Claudio? There's some in hope. It is a bitter deputy. Not so, not so. His life is paralleled even with the stroke and line of his great justice. He doth with holy abstinence subdue that in himself, which he spurs on his power to qualify in others. Were he mealed with that which he corrects, then were he tyrannous. But this being so, he's just. Knocking within. Now are they come. Exit, provost. This is a gentle provost. seldom when the steeled jailer is the friend of men. Knocking within. How now? What noise? That spirit's possessed with haste that wounds the unsisting postern with these strokes. Re-enter, provost. There he must stay until the officer arrives to let him in. He is called up. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, but he must die tomorrow? None, sir, none. As near the dawning provost as it is, you shall hear more air mourning. Happily you something know, yet I believe there comes no countermand. No such example have we. Besides, upon the very siege of justice Lord Angelo hath to the public ear professed the contrary. Enter a messenger. This is his lordship's man. And here comes Claudio's pardon. Giving a paper. My lord hath sent you this note, and by me this further charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow, for, as I take it, it is almost day. I shall obey him. Exit, messenger, aside. This is his pardon purchased by such sin for which the pardoner himself is in. Hence hath offence his quick celerity when it is born in high authority, when vice makes mercy, mercy so extended, that for the false love is the offender offended. Now, sir, what news? I told you, Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine office awakens me with this unwonted putting on. Me think strangely, for he hath not used it before. Pray you, let's hear. Reads. Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock, and in the afternoon, Barnardine. For my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed, with a thought that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril. What say you to this, sir? What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in the afternoon? A Bohemian born, but here nursed un and bred, one that is a prisoner nine years old. How came it that the absent Duke had not either delivered him to his liberty or executed him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so. His friend still wrought reprieves for him, and indeed his fact, till now in the Government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. Is it now apparent? Most manifest, and not denied by himself. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison, how seems he to be touched? A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep, careless, reckless, and fearless of what's past, present, or to come, insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. He wants advice. He will hear none. He hath evermore had the liberty of the prison. Give him leave to escape hence. He would not. Drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, and showed him a seeming warrant for it. It hath not moved him at all. More of him anon. There is written in your brow, Provost, honesty and constancy. If I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me. But in the boldness of my cunning I will lay myself in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo, who hath sentenced him. To make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days respite. For the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy. Praise, sir, in what? In the delaying death. A lack, how may I do it, having the hour limited, and an express command under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo. I may make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest. By the vow of my order, I warrant you, if my instructions may be your guide. Let this barnardine be this morning executed, and his head borne to Angelo. Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour. O death's a great disguiser, and you may add to it. Shave the head and tie the beard, and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death. You know the course is common. If anything fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life. Pardon me, good father. It is against my oath. Were you sworn to the Duke or to the Deputy? To him and to his substitutes. You will think you have made no offence if the Duke avouch the justice of your dealing? But what likelihood is in that? Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet, since I see you fearful that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant to pluck all fears out of you. Look, you sir, here is the hand and seal of the Duke. You know the character, I doubt not, and the signet is not strange to you. I know them both. The contents of this is the return of the Duke. You shall anon overread it at your pleasure, where you shall find within these two days he will be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not. For he, this very day, receives letters of strange tenor, perchance of the Duke's death, perchance of entering into some monastery, but by chance nothing of what is read. Look, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be. All difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head. I will give him a present drift and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amazed, but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away, it is almost clear dawn. Exceint. Act four, scene three, another room in the same. Enter Pompey. I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession. One would think it were Mistress Overdine's own house, for here be many of our old customers. First, here's young Master Rash. He's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, nine score and seventeen pounds, of which he made five marks ready money. Mary, then ginger was not much in request, for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one Master Caper at the suit of Master Three-Pile the Mercer for some four suits of peach-coloured satin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then we have here young Dizzy, and young Master Deep Vow, and Master Copper Spur, and Master Starve Lucky the Rapier and Daggerman, and young Drop-Air that killed Lusty Pudding, and Master Forthlet the Tilter, and Brave Master Shooty the Great Traveller, and Wild Half-Can that stabbed Pots, and, I think, 40 more. All great doers in our trade, and they are now for the Lord's sake. Enter a Porson. Sarah, bring Bernardine hither. Master Barnardine, you must rise and be hanged. Master Barnardine! Wahoo, Bernardine! Within. A pox of your throats. Who makes that noise there? What are you? Your friends, sir. The hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. Within. Away, you rogue away. I am sleepy. Tell him he must awake, and act quickly, too. Pray, Master Barnardine, await till you're executed and sleep afterwards. Go into him, and fetch him out. He is coming, sir. He is coming. I hear his straw rustle. Enter Bernardine. Is the axe upon the block, Sarah? Very ready, sir. How now, O Vorson? What's the news with you? Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers, for, look you, the warrants come. Rogue, I have been drinking all night. I am not fitted for it. Oh, the better, sir, for he that drinks all night, and his hang be timed in the morning, may sleep the sounder all the next day. Enter Duke Vincentio, disguised as before. Look you, sir. Here comes your ghostly father. Do we just now thank you? Sir, induced by my charity and hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you, and pray with you. Friar, not I. I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets. I will not consent to die this day. That's certain. Oh, sir, you must. Therefore I beseech you, look forward on the journey you shall go. I swear I will not die today for any man's persuasion. But hear you. Not a word. If you have anything to say to me, come to my ward, for tents will not die today. Exit. Unfit to live or die, oh, gravel heart, after him, fellows, bring him to the block. Exit. Abortion. And Pompey. Re-enter provost. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? A creature unprepared, unmeat for death, and to transport him in the mind he is, redamnable. Here in the prison, Father, there died this morning of a cruel fever, one Ragozin, a most notorious pirate, a man of Claudios years, his beard and head just of his color. What if we do omit this reprobate till he were well inclined, and satisfy the deputy with a visage of Ragozin more like to Claudio? Oh, it is an accident that heaven provides. Dispatch it presently. The hour draws on, prefixed by Angelo, see this be done, and sent according to command, whilst I persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. This shall be done, good Father, presently. But Barnardine must die this afternoon. And how shall we continue Claudio to save me from the danger that might come if he were known alive? Let this be done. Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio. Here, twice the sun hath made his journal greeting to the under-generation, you shall find your safety manifested. I am your free dependent. Quick, dispatch and send the head to Angelo. Exit, provost. Now will I write letters to Angelo. The provost he shall bear them, whose contents shall witness to him I am near at home, and that by great injunctions I am bound to enter publicly. Him I'll desire to meet me at the consecrated fount a league below the city, and from thence, by cold gradation and well-balanced form, we shall proceed with Angelo. Re-enter, provost. Here is the head. I'll carry it myself. Convenient is it. Make a swift return, for I would commune with you of such things that want no ear but yours. I'll make all speed. Exit, within. Peace ho be here. The tongue of Isabelle. She's come to know if yet her brother's pardon become hither, but I will keep her ignorant of her good, to make her heavenly comforts of despair when it is least expected. Enter, Isabella. Ho, by your leave. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. The batter given me by so holy a man, hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon. He hath released him, Isabelle, from the world. His head is off and sent to Angelo. Nay, but it is not so. It is no other. Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience. Oh, I will to him and pluck out his eyes. You shall not be admitted to his sight. Unhappy Claudio. Wretched Isabelle, injurious world, most damned Angelo. This nor hurts him nor profits you a jaunt. Forbear it, therefore, give your cause to heaven. Mark what I say, which you shall find by every syllable of faithful verity. The duke comes home tomorrow. Nay, dry your eyes. One of our convent and his confessor gives me this instance. Already he hath carried notice to Escalus and Angelo, who do prepare to meet him at the gates, there to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom in that good path that I would wish it go, and you shall have your bosom on this wretch, grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, and general honour. I am directed by you. This letter, then, to Friar Peter give. Tis that he sent me of the duke's return. Say by this token I desire his company at Marianna's house tonight. Her cause and yours I'll perfect him with all, and he shall bring you before the duke, and to the head of Angelo accuse him home and home. For my poor self I am combined by a sacred vow and shall be absent. When you, with this letter, command those fretting waters from your eyes with a light heart, trust not my holy order if I pervert your course. Who's here? Enter Guccio. Good even. Friar, where's the provost? Not within, sir. Oh, pretty Isabella. I am pale at my heart to see thine eyes so red. Thou must be patient. I am feigned to dine and sup with water and bran. I dare not, for my head fill my belly. One fruitful meal would set me to it. But they say the duke will be here tomorrow by my truth, Isabella. I loved thy brother. If the old, fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived. Exit Isabella. Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports, but the best is he lives not in them. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do. He's a better woodman than thou takest him for. Well, you'll answer for this one day. Fare ye well. Nay, Terry, I'll go along with thee. I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke. You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true. If not true, none were enough. I was once before him, forgetting a wench with child. Did you such a thing? Yes, Mary, did I, but I was feigned to forswear it. They would else have married me to the rotten meddler. Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well. By my truth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end. If body talk defend you, we'll have very little of it. Nay, Friar, I am a kind of burr. I shall stick. Exit. Act four, scene four. A room in Angelo's house. Enter Angelo and Hiscolaus. Every letter he hath read hath dispatched other. In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much like to madness. Pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted. And why meet him at the gates and re-deliver our authorities there? I guess not. And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his entering, that if any crave redress of injustice they should exhibit their petitions in the street? He shows his reason for that, to have a dispatch of complaints and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand against us. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed by times in the morn. I'll call you at your house. Give notice to such men of sort and suit as are to meet him. I shall, sir, very well. Good night. Exit. This deed unshapes me quite. Makes me un-pregnant and dull to all proceedings. A deep-flowered maid? And by an eminent body that enforced the law against it? But that her tender shame will not proclaim against her maiden loss how might she tongue me? Yet reason dares her no, for my authority bears of a credent bulk that no particular scandal once can touch, but it confounds the breather. He should have lived. Save that riotous youth with dangerous sense, might in the times to come have tain revenge by so receiving a dishonored life with ransom of such shame. Would yet he had lived. Alack! When once our grace we have forgot, nothing goes right. We would, and we would not. Exit. Act four, scene five. Fields without the town. Introduce Vicenteo in his own habit, and fryer Peter. These letters at fit-time deliver me. Giving letters. The provost knows our purpose and our plot, the matter being afoot, keep your instruction, and hold you ever to our special drift. Though sometimes you do blench from this to that as cause, death-minister. Go call at Flavius's house and tell him where I stay, give the lake notice to Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, and bid them bring the trumpets to the gate, but send me Flavius first. It shall be speeded well. Exit. Enter Varius. I thank thee, Varius. I hast made good haste. Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends will greet us here and on, my gentle Varius. Exit. Act IV. Sainte-Six. Street, near the city gate. Enter Isabella and Marianna. To speak so indirectly I am loath. I would say the truth, but to accuse him so, that is your part. Yet I am advised to do it, he says, to veil full purpose. Be ruled by him. Besides, he tells me that, if peraventure he speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it's strange, for it is a physics that's bitter to sweet end. Enter Friar Peter. I would Friar Peter. O peace, the Friar is come. Come, I have found you out at stand most fit, where you may have such vantage on the duke. He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpet sounded. The generous and gravest citizens have hent the gates, and very near upon the duke he is entering. Therefore, hence, away. Exit. End of Act IV. Act V of Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act V. Scene I. The City Gate. Marianne veiled Isabella and Friar Peter at their stand. Enter Duke Vincentio, various, lords, Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, Officers, and Citizens at several doors. My very worthy cousin, Fairly Matt. Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. With Escalus. Happy return, Peter, your royal grace. Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you, and we hear such goodness of your justice that our soul cannot but yield you forth to public thanks for running more requital. You make my bonds still greater. O, your dessert speaks loud, and I should wrong it to lock it in the wards of covert bosom, when it deserves with characters of brass, a forted residence against the tooth of time and razor of oblivion. Give me your hand and let the subject see to make them know that outward courtesies would feign proclaim favours that keep within. Come, Escalus, you must walk by us on our other hand, and good supporters are you. Friar Peter and Isabella come forward. Now is your time. Speak loud and kneel before him. Justice, O royal Duke! Vale your regard upon a wronged. I would feign have said a maid. O worthy prince, dishonour notch your eye by throwing it on any other object till you have heard me in my true complaint and given me justice. Justice, justice, justice! Relate your wrongs in what by whom? Be brief. Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice. Reveal yourself to him. O worthy Duke, you bid me seek redemption of the devil. Hear me yourself. For that which I must speak must either punish me not being believed or ring redress from you. Hear me, O hear me, hear! My lord, her wits I fear me are not firm. She hath been a suitor to me for her brother, cut off by course of justice. By course of justice? And she will speak most bitterly and strange. Most strange, but yet most truly will I speak. That Angelo's force worn is it not strange? That Angelo's a murderer is not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief and hypocrite of virgin violator is it not strange and strange? Nay, it is ten times strange. It is not truer he is Angelo than this is all as true as it is strange. Nay, it is ten times true. For truth is truth to the end of reckoning. Away with her poor soul she speaks this in the infirmity of sense. O Prince, I conjure thee. As thou believest there is another comfort than this world that thou neglect me not with that opinion that I am touched with madness. Make not impossible that which but seems unlike. Tis not impossible but one the wickedst cative on the ground may seem as shy, as grave as just as absolute as Angelo. Even so may Angelo in all his dressings, kerricks, titles, forms be an arch-villain. Believe it, royal prince, if he be less he's nothing, but he's more had I more name for badness. By mine honesty if she be mad as I believe no other her madness hath the oddest frame of sense such a dependency of thing on thing as ere I heard in madness. O gracious Duke, harp not on that, nor do not banish reason for inequality, but let your reason serve to make the truth appear where it seems hid and hide the false seems true. Many that are not mad have sure more lack of reason. What would you say? I am the sister of one Claudio, condemned upon the act of fornication to lose his head, condemned by Angelo. I in probation of a sisterhood was sent to by my brother, one Lucio as then the messenger. That's I, and like your grace I came to her from Claudio and desired her to try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo for her poor brother's pardon. That's he indeed. You were not bid to speak. No, my good lord, nor wished to hold my peace. I wish you now then, pray you take note of it, and when you have a business for yourself, pray haven't you then be perfect? I warrant your honour. The warrants for yourself, take heed to it. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. Right. It may be right, but you were in the wrong to speak before your time. Proceed. I went to this pernicious, cative deputy. That's somewhat madly spoken. Pardon it, the phrase is to the matter. Mend it again, the matter, proceed. In brief, to set the needless process by how I persuaded, how I prayed and kneeled, how he refelled me, and how I replied, for this was of much length. The vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter. He would not, but by gift of my chaste body, to his concupisable intemperate lust, release my brother. And after much debatement, my sisterly remorse confutes my honour and I did yield to him. But the next mourn betimes, his purpose surfiting, he sends a warrant for my poor brother's head. This is most likely. Oh, that it were as like as it is true. By heaven, thawnd wretch, thou knowest not what thou speakest, or else thou art suborned against his honour in hateful practice. First, his integrity stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason that with such vehemence he should pursue false proper to himself. If he had so offended, he would have weighed thy brother by himself and not have cut him off. Someone hath set you on. Confess the truth, and say by whose advice thou cameest here to complain. And is this all? Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, keep me in patience. And with ripened time unfold the evil which is here wrapped up in countenance. Heaven shields your grace from woe, as I, thus wronged, hence unbelieved, go. I know you'd fain be gone, an officer, to prison with her. Shall we thus permit a blasting and a scandalous breath to fall on him so near us? This needs must be a practice. Who knew of your intent in coming hither? One that I would were here, Friar Lotterwick. A ghostly father be like. Who knows that Lotterwick? My Lord, I know him. Tis a meddling Friar. I do not like the man. Had he been lay, my Lord, for certain words he spake against your grace, in your retirement, I had swinged him soundly. Words against me. This is a good Friar, be like. And to set on this wretched woman here against our substitute, let this Friar be found. But yesterday night, my Lord, she and that Friar, I saw them at the prison. A saucy Friar. A very scurvy fellow. Blessed be your royal grace. I have stood by, my Lord, and I have heard your royal ear abused. First have this woman most wrongfully accused your substitute, who is as free from touch or soil with her as she from one ungot. We did believe no less. Know you that Friar Lotterwick that she speaks of? I know him for a man divine and holy. Not scurvy nor a temporary meddler, as he's reported by this gentleman, and on my trust a man that never yet did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. My Lord, most villainously believe it. Well, he in time may come to clear himself, but at this instant he is sick, my Lord, of a strange fever. Upon his mere request, being come to knowledge that there was complaint intended against Lord Angelo came I hither, to speak as from his mouth, what he doth know is true and false, and what he with his oath and all probation will make up full clear, whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman, to justify this worthy nobleman so vulgarly and personally accused, her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, till she herself confess it. Good Friar, let's hear it. Isabella is carried off guarded, and Marianna comes forward. Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo? O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools! Give us some seats. Come, cousin Angelo, in this I'll be impartial, be you judge of your own cause. Is this the witness Friar? First let her show her face, and after speak. Pardon, my Lord. I will not show my face until my husband bid me. What, are you married? No, my Lord. Are you a maid? No, my Lord. A widow then? Neither, my Lord. Why, you are nothing then, neither maid, widow, nor wife? My Lord, she may be a punk. For many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Silence that fellow! I would he had some cause to prattle for himself. Well, my Lord. My Lord, I do confess I ne'er was married, and I confess besides I am no maid. I have known my husband, yet my husband knows not that ever he knew me. He was drunk then, my Lord. He can be no better. For the benefit of silence would thou word so too. Well, my Lord. This is no witness for Lord Angelo. Now I come to it, my Lord. She that accuses him of fornication in self-same manner doth accuse my husband. And charges him, my Lord, with such a time when I'll depose I had him in mine arms, with all the effect of love. Charges she more than me? Not that I know. No? You say your husband? Why, just, my Lord, and that is Angelo, who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, but knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's. This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face. My husband bids me. Now I will unmask. This is that face. Thou cruel Angelo, which once thou sworest was worth the looking on. This is the hand which, with a vow contract, was fast be locked in thine. This is the body that took away the match from Isabel, and did supply thee at thy garden house in her imagined person. Know you this woman? Carnally, she says. Serah, no more. Enough, my Lord. My Lord, I must confess I know this woman, and five years since there was some speech of marriage betwixt myself and her, which was broke off, partly for that her promiscid proportions came short of composition, but in chief, for that her reputation was disvalued in levity, since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, upon my faith and honour. Noble Prince, as there comes light from heaven and words from breath, as there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man's wife as strongly as words could make up vows, and my good Lord, but Tuesday night last gone in its garden house, he knew me as a wife. As this is true, let me in safety raise me from my knees, or else forever be confixit here a marble monument. I did but smile till now. Now, good my Lord, give me the scope of justice my patience here is touched. I do perceive these poor informal women are no more but instruments of some more mightier member that sets them on. Let me have way, my Lord, to find this practice out. I, with my heart, and punish them to your height of pleasure, thou foolish friar and thou pernicious woman, compact with her that's gone, thinkest thou thy oaths, though they would swear down each particular saint, were testimonies against his worth and credit that's sealed in approbation. You, Lord Escalus, sit with my cousin, lend him your kind pains to find out this abuse whence tis derived. There is another friar that set them on, let him be sent for. Would he were here, my Lord, for he indeed had set the woman on to this complaint. Your provost knows a place where he abides, and he may fetch him. Go do it instantly. Exit, provost. And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin, whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, do with your injuries as seems you best in any chastisement. I for a while will leave you, but stir not till you have well determined upon these slanderers. My Lord, we'll do it thoroughly. Exit, Duke. Senor Lucio, did not you say you knew that friar Lodovic to be a dishonest person? Tuculus non facet monatum, honest in nothing but in his clothes, and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the Duke. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him. We shall find this friar a notable fellow. As any in Vienna on my word. Call that same Isabel here once again. I would speak with her. Exit and attendant. Pray you, my Lord, give me leave to question. You shall see how I'll handle her. Not better than he, by her own report. Say you. Mary, sir, I think if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess. It prechants publicly she'll be ashamed. I will go darkly to work with her. That's the way, for women are light at midnight. Reenter officers with Isabella, and provost with the Duke Vicentio in his friar's habit. Come on, mistress. Here's a gentle woman, denies all that you have said. My Lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of, here, with the provost. In very good time. Speak not you to him, till we call upon you. Mum. Come, sir, did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? They have confessed you did. Tis false. How? Know you where you are. Respect to your great place, and let the devil be some time honoured for his burning throne. Where is the Duke? Tis he should hear me speak. The Duke's in us, and we will hear you speak. Look, you speak justly. Boldly, at least. But, oh, poor souls, come you to seek the lamb here of the fox. Good night to your redress. Is the Duke gone? Then is your cause gone, too? The Duke's unjust, thus to retort your manifest appeal, and put your trial in the villain's mouth, which here you come to accuse. This is the rascal. This is he I spoke of. Why, thou unreverent and unhollowed fire, is it not enough thou hast suborned this women to accuse this worthy man, but in foul mouth, and in the witness of his proper ear, to call him villain, and then to glance from him to the Duke himself, to tax him with injustice, take him hence to the rack with him. We'll tals you, joint by joint. But we will know his purpose. What, unjust? Be not so hot. The Duke dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he dare rack his own. His subject am I not, nor hear provincial. My business in this state made me a looker on here in Vienna, where I have seen corruption, boil, and bubble, till it or run the stew. Laws for all faults, but faults so countenanced that the strong statutes stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, as much in mock as mark. Slender to the state. Away with him to prison. What can you vouch against him, senor Lucio? Is this the man that you did tell us of? Tis he, my lord. Come hither, good man bald-pate. Do you know me? I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice. I met you at the prison in the absence of the Duke. Oh, did you so, and do you remember what you said of the Duke? Most notedly, sir. Do you so, sir? And was the Duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be? You must, sir, change persons with me ere you make that my report. You indeed spoke so of him, and much more much worse. Oh, thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches? I protest I love the Duke as I love myself. Hark! how the villain would close now after his treasonable abuses! Such a fellow is not to be talked with all. Away with him to prison. Where is the provost? Away with him to prison. Lay bolts enough upon him. Let him speak no more. Away with those jigglers, too. And with the other confederate companion. To provost. Stay, sir, stay awhile. What, resistee? Help him, luchio. Come, sir. Come, sir. Come, sir, foe, sir. Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave's visage with a pox to you. Show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged in our wilt-nut-off. Pulls off the friar's hood and discovers Duke Vicentio. Thou art the first knave that ever madeest a duke. First provost, let me bale these gentle three. To luchio. Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and you must have a word and on. Lay hold on him. This may prove worse than hanging. To luchio. What you have spoke, I pardon. Sit you down. We'll borrow place of him. To Angelo. Sir, by your leave. Hast thou, or word, or wit, or impudence, that yet can do the office? If thou hast, rely upon it till my tale be heard, and hold no longer out. O my dread lord! I should be guiltier than my guiltiness. To think I can be undissernable when I perceive your grace, like power divine, hath looked upon my passes. Then, good prince, no longer session hold upon my shame. But let my trial be my own confession. Immediate sentence then and sequent death is all the grace I beg. Come hither, Marianna. Say, what's thou air contracted to this woman? I was, my lord. Go take her, hence, and marry her instantly. Do you the office friar, which consummate, return him here again. Go with them, provost. Exeant Angelo, Marianna, friar Peter, and provost. My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour than at the strangeness of it. Come hither, Isabelle. Your friar is now your prince, as I was then advertising and holy to your business, not changing heart with habit. I am still, attorney, at your service. O, give me pardon, that I, your vassal, have employed and pained your unknown sovereignty. You are pardoned, Isabelle, and now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart, and you may marvel why I obscured myself, laboring to save his life, and would not rather make rash remonstrance of my hidden power than let him so be lost. How most kind, maid, it was the swift celerity of his death, which I did think with slower foot came on that brained my purpose. But, peace be with him, that life is better life, past fearing death, than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort, so happy is your brother. I do, my lord. Reenter, Angelo, Marianna, friar Peter, and provost. For this new married man approaching here, whose salt imagination yet hath wronged your well-defended honour, you must pardon for Marianna's sake. But as he adjudged your brother, being criminal, in double violation of sacred chastity and of promise breach thereon dependent, for your brother's life, the very mercy of the law cries out most audible, even from his proper tongue, an Angelo for Claudio, death for death. Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure, like doth quit like, and measure still for measure. Then, Angelo, thy faults thus manifested, which, though thou wouldst deny, denies the advantage. We do condemn thee to the very block where Claudio stooped to death, and with like haste. Away with him. Oh, my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband. It is your husband mocked you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit, else imputation for that he knew you might reproach your life and choke your good to come. For his possessions, although by confiscation they are ours, we do in state and widow you withal, to buy you a better husband. Oh, my dear lord, I crave no other nor no better man. Never crave him. We are definitive. Gentle, my liege. Kneeling. You do but lose your labour. Away with him to death. To Lucio. Now, sir, to you. Oh, my good lord, sweet Isabel, take my part. Lend me your knees, and all my life to come, I'll lend you all my life to do you service. Against all sense you do importion her. Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, her brother's ghost, his pavid bed, would break and take her hence in horror. Isabel, sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me. Hold up your hands, say nothing, I'll speak all. They say best men are moulded out of faults, and for the most become much more the better for being a little bad. So may my husband. Oh, Isabel, will you not lend a knee? He dies for Claudio's death. Most bounteous, sir. Kneeling. Look, if it please you, on this man condemned, as if my brother lived. I partly think a due sincerity governed his deeds till he did look on me. Since it is so, let him not die. My brother had but justice, in that he did the thing for which he died. For Angelo, his act did not or take his bad intent, and must be buried but as an intent that perished by the way. Thoughts are no subjects, intense but merely thoughts. Merely, my lord. Your suit's unprofitable, stand up, I say. I have bethought me of another fault. Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded at an unusual hour? It was commanded so. Had you a special warrant for the deed? No, my good lord. It was by private message. For which I do discharge you of your office, give up your keys. Pardon me, noble lord. I thought it was a fault, but knew it not. Yet did repent me after more advice. For testimony whereof, one in the prison, that should by private order else have died, I have reserved alive. What's he? His name is Barnardine. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. Go fetch him hither, let me look upon him. Exit, provost. I am sorry, one so learned, and so wise as you, Lord Angelo, have still appeared, should slip so grossly, but in the heat of blood and lack of temper judgment afterward. I am sorry, that such sorrow I procure, and so deep sticks it in my penitent heart, that I crave death more willingly than mercy. It is my deserving, and I do entreat it. Reinter provost was Barnardine, Claudio muffled, and Juliet. Which is that Barnardine? This, my lord. There was a friar told me of this man. Sir, thou art said to have a stubborn soul that apprehends no further than this world, and squarists thy life, according. Thou art condemned, but, for those earthly faults, I quit them all, and pray thee, take this mercy to provide for better times to come, friar advise him, I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellows that? This is another prisoner that I saved, who should have died when Claudio lost his head, as like almost to Claudio as himself. Unmuffles Claudio, to Isabella. If he be like your brother, for his sake is he pardoned, and for your lovely sake, give me your hand, and say you will be mine. He is my brother too, but fitter time for that. By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe, he thinks I see a quickening in his eye. Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well. Look that you love your wife, her worth worth yours. I find an apt remission in myself, and yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. Teruccio. You, sir, that knew me for a fool a coward, one all of luxury, an ath, a madman, wherein have I so deserved a view that you extol me thus. Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may. But I had rather it would please you, I might be whipped. Whipped first, sir, and hanged after. Proclaim it, provost, round about the city. Is any woman wronged by this lewd fellow, as I have heard him swear himself there's one whom he begot with child? Let her appear, and he shall marry her. The nuptial finished. Let him be whipped and hanged. I beseech your highness. Do not marry me to a horror. Your highness said even now, I made you a duke. Good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. Upon mine honour thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive, and therewith all remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison, and see our pleasure herein executed. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping and hanging. Slandering a prince deserves it. Exeant officers with luchio. She, Claudio, that you wronged, look you restore. Joy to you, Mariana. Love her, Angelo. I have confessed her, and I know her virtue. Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness is more behind that is more gratulate. Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy, we shall employ thee in a worthier place. Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home the head of ragazine for Claudio's. The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good. Where, too, if you'll a willing ear incline, what's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. So bring us to our palace, where we'll show what's yet behind that's meet you all should know. Exeant. End of Act V. End of Measure for Measure by William Shakespeare.