Measure for Measure

William Shakespeare

Measure for Measure

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

VINCENTIO, the Duke

ANGELO, the Deputy

ESCALUS, an ancient Lord

CLAUDIO, a young gentleman

LUCIO, a fantastic

Two other like Gentlemen

VARRIUS, a gentleman, servant to the Duke

PROVOST

THOMAS, friar

PETER, friar

A JUSTICE

ELBOW, a simple constable

FROTH, a foolish gentleman

POMPEY, a clown and servant to Mistress Overdone

ABHORSON, an executioner

BARNARDINE, a dissolute prisoner

ISABELLA, sister to Claudio

MARIANA, betrothed to Angelo

JULIET, beloved of Claudio

FRANCISCA, a nun

MISTRESS OVERDONE, a bawd Lords, Officers, Citizens, Boy, and Attendants

SCENE: Vienna

ACT I. SCENE I. The DUKE'S palace

Enter DUKE, ESCALUS, LORDS, and ATTENDANTS

  DUKE. Escalus!

  ESCALUS. My lord.

  DUKE. Of government the properties to unfold

    Would seem in me t' affect speech and discourse,

    Since I am put to know that your own science

    Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice

    My strength can give you; then no more remains

    But that to your sufficiency- as your worth is able-

    And let them work. The nature of our people,

    Our city's institutions, and the terms

    For common justice, y'are as pregnant in

    As art and practice hath enriched any

    That we remember. There is our commission,

    From which we would not have you warp. Call hither,

    I say, bid come before us, Angelo. Exit an ATTENDANT

    What figure of us think you he will bear?

    For you must know we have with special soul

    Elected him our absence to supply;

    Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love,

    And given his deputation all the organs

    Of our own power. What think you of it?

  ESCALUS. If any in Vienna be of worth

    To undergo such ample grace and honour,

    It is Lord Angelo.

Enter ANGELO

  DUKE. Look where he comes.

  ANGELO. Always obedient to your Grace's will,

    I come to know your pleasure.

  DUKE. Angelo,

    There is a kind of character in thy life

    That to th' observer doth thy history

    Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings

    Are not thine own so proper as to waste

    Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.

    Heaven doth with us as we with torches do,

    Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues

    Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike

    As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd

    But to fine issues; nor Nature never lends

    The smallest scruple of her excellence

    But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines

    Herself the glory of a creditor,

    Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech

    To one that can my part in him advertise.

    Hold, therefore, Angelo-

    In our remove be thou at full ourself;

    Mortality and mercy in Vienna

    Live in thy tongue and heart. Old Escalus,

    Though first in question, is thy secondary.

    Take thy commission.

  ANGELO. Now, good my lord,

    Let there be some more test made of my metal,

    Before so noble and so great a figure

    Be stamp'd upon it.

  DUKE. No more evasion!

    We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice

    Proceeded to you; therefore take your honours.

    Our haste from hence is of so quick condition

    That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd

    Matters of needful value. We shall write to you,

    As time and our concernings shall importune,

    How it goes with us, and do look to know

    What doth befall you here. So, fare you well.

    To th' hopeful execution do I leave you

    Of your commissions.

  ANGELO. Yet give leave, my lord,

    That we may bring you something on the way.

  DUKE. My haste may not admit it;

    Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do

    With any scruple: your scope is as mine own,

    So to enforce or qualify the laws

    As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand;

    I'll privily away. I love the people,

    But do not like to stage me to their eyes;

    Though it do well, I do not relish well

    Their loud applause and Aves vehement;

    Nor do I think the man of safe discretion

    That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.

  ANGELO. The heavens give safety to your purposes!

  ESCALUS. Lead forth and bring you back in happiness!

  DUKE. I thank you. Fare you well. Exit

  ESCALUS. I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave

    To have free speech with you; and it concerns me

    To look into the bottom of my place:

    A pow'r I have, but of what strength and nature

    I am not yet instructed.

  ANGELO. 'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together,

    And we may soon our satisfaction have

    Touching that point.

  ESCALUS. I'll wait upon your honour. Exeunt

SCENE II. A street

Enter Lucio and two other GENTLEMEN

  LUCIO. If the Duke, with the other dukes, come not to

composition

    with the King of Hungary, why then all the dukes fall upon

the

    King.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of

    Hungary's!

  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Amen.

  LUCIO. Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate that went

to

    sea with the Ten Commandments, but scrap'd one out of the

table.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN. 'Thou shalt not steal'?

  LUCIO. Ay, that he raz'd.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Why, 'twas a commandment to command the

captain

    and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to

steal.

    There's not a soldier of us all that, in the thanksgiving

before

    meat, do relish the petition well that prays for peace.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN. I never heard any soldier dislike it.

  LUCIO. I believe thee; for I think thou never wast where grace

was

    said.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN. No? A dozen times at least.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. What, in metre?

  LUCIO. In any proportion or in any language.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. I think, or in any religion.

  LUCIO. Ay, why not? Grace is grace, despite of all controversy;

as,

    for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of

all

    grace.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Well, there went but a pair of shears between

us.

  LUCIO. I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet.

    Thou art the list.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. And thou the velvet; thou art good velvet;

thou'rt

    a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee. I had as lief be a list

of

    an English kersey as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a

French

    velvet. Do I speak feelingly now?

  LUCIO. I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful

feeling of

    thy speech. I will, out of thine own confession, learn to

begin

    thy health; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. I think I have done myself wrong, have I not?

  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted

or

    free.

Enter MISTRESS OVERDONE

  LUCIO. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes! I have

    purchas'd as many diseases under her roof as come to-

  SECOND GENTLEMAN. To what, I pray?

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Judge.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN. To three thousand dolours a year.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Ay, and more.

  LUCIO. A French crown more.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Thou art always figuring diseases in me, but

thou

    art full of error; I am sound.

  LUCIO. Nay, not, as one would say, healthy; but so sound as

things

    that are hollow: thy bones are hollow; impiety has made a

feast

    of thee.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. How now! which of your hips has the most

profound

    sciatica?

  MRS. OVERDONE. Well, well! there's one yonder arrested and

carried

    to prison was worth five thousand of you all.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Who's that, I pray thee?

  MRS. OVERDONE. Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. Claudio to prison? 'Tis not so.

  MRS. OVERDONE. Nay, but I know 'tis so: I saw him arrested; saw

him

    carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his

    head to be chopp'd off.

  LUCIO. But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. Art

    thou sure of this?

  MRS. OVERDONE. I am too sure of it; and it is for getting Madam

    Julietta with child.

  LUCIO. Believe me, this may be; he promis'd to meet me two

hours

    since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping.

  SECOND GENTLEMAN. Besides, you know, it draws something near to

the

    speech we had to such a purpose.

  FIRST GENTLEMAN. But most of all agreeing with the

proclamation.

  LUCIO. Away; let's go learn the truth of it.

Exeunt Lucio and GENTLEMEN

  MRS. OVERDONE. Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat,

what

    with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk.

Enter POMPEY

    How now! what's the news with you?

  POMPEY. Yonder man is carried to prison.

  MRS. OVERDONE. Well, what has he done?

  POMPEY. A woman.

  MRS. OVERDONE. But what's his offence?

  POMPEY. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river.

  MRS. OVERDONE. What! is there a maid with child by him?

  POMPEY. No; but there's a woman with maid by him. You have not

   heard of the proclamation, have you?

  MRS. OVERDONE. What proclamation, man?

  POMPEY. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be pluck'd

down.

  MRS. OVERDONE. And what shall become of those in the city?

  POMPEY. They shall stand for seed; they had gone down too, but

that

    a wise burgher put in for them.

  MRS. OVERDONE. But shall all our houses of resort in the

suburbs be

    pull'd down?

  POMPEY. To the ground, mistress.

  MRS. OVERDONE. Why, here's a change indeed in the commonwealth!

    What shall become of me?

  POMPEY. Come, fear not you: good counsellors lack no clients.

    Though you change your place you need not change your trade;

I'll

    be your tapster still. Courage, there will be pity taken on

you;

    you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you

will

    be considered.

  MRS. OVERDONE. What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? Let's

withdraw.

  POMPEY. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the provost to

prison;

    and there's Madam Juliet. Exeunt

Enter PROVOST, CLAUDIO, JULIET, and OFFICERS; LUCIO following

  CLAUDIO. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to th' world?

    Bear me to prison, where I am committed.

  PROVOST. I do it not in evil disposition,

    But from Lord Angelo by special charge.

  CLAUDIO. Thus can the demigod Authority

    Make us pay down for our offence by weight

    The words of heaven: on whom it will, it will;

    On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just.

  LUCIO. Why, how now, Claudio, whence comes this restraint?

  CLAUDIO. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty;

    As surfeit is the father of much fast,

    So every scope by the immoderate use

    Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue,

    Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,

    A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die.

  LUCIO. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send

for

    certain of my creditors; and yet, to say the truth, I had as

lief

    have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment.

    What's thy offence, Claudio?

  CLAUDIO. What but to speak of would offend again.

  LUCIO. What, is't murder?

  CLAUDIO. No.

  LUCIO. Lechery?

  CLAUDIO. Call it so.

  PROVOST. Away, sir; you must go.

  CLAUDIO. One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you.

  LUCIO. A hundred, if they'll do you any good. Is lechery so

look'd

    after?

  CLAUDIO. Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract

    I got possession of Julietta's bed.

    You know the lady; she is fast my wife,

    Save that we do the denunciation lack

    Of outward order; this we came not to,

    Only for propagation of a dow'r

    Remaining in the coffer of her friends.

    From whom we thought it meet to hide our love

    Till time had made them for us. But it chances

    The stealth of our most mutual entertainment,

    With character too gross, is writ on Juliet.

  LUCIO. With child, perhaps?

  CLAUDIO. Unhappily, even so.

    And the new deputy now for the Duke-

    Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness,

    Or whether that the body public be

    A horse whereon the governor doth ride,

    Who, newly in the seat, that it may know

    He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;

    Whether the tyranny be in his place,

    Or in his eminence that fills it up,

    I stagger in. But this new governor

    Awakes me all the enrolled penalties

    Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by th' wall

    So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round

    And none of them been worn; and, for a name,

    Now puts the drowsy and neglected act

    Freshly on me. 'Tis surely for a name.

  LUCIO. I warrant it is; and thy head stands so tickle on thy

    shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it

off.

    Send after the Duke, and appeal to him.

  CLAUDIO. I have done so, but he's not to be found.

    I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service:

    This day my sister should the cloister enter,

    And there receive her approbation;

    Acquaint her with the danger of my state;

    Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends

    To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him.

    I have great hope in that; for in her youth

    There is a prone and speechless dialect

    Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art

    When she will play with reason and discourse,

    And well she can persuade.

  LUCIO. I pray she may; as well for the encouragement of the

like,

    which else would stand under grievous imposition, as for the

    enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus

    foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack. I'll to her.

  CLAUDIO. I thank you, good friend Lucio.

  LUCIO. Within two hours.

  CLAUDIO. Come, officer, away. Exeunt

SCENE III. A monastery

Enter DUKE and FRIAR THOMAS

  DUKE. No, holy father; throw away that thought;

    Believe not that the dribbling dart of love

    Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee

    To give me secret harbour hath a purpose

    More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends

    Of burning youth.

  FRIAR. May your Grace speak of it?

  DUKE. My holy sir, none better knows than you

    How I have ever lov'd the life removed,

    And held in idle price to haunt assemblies

    Where youth, and cost, a witless bravery keeps.

    I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo,

    A man of stricture and firm abstinence,

    My absolute power and place here in Vienna,

    And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;

    For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,

    And so it is received. Now, pious sir,

    You will demand of me why I do this.

  FRIAR. Gladly, my lord.

  DUKE. We have strict statutes and most biting laws,

    The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds,

    Which for this fourteen years we have let slip;

    Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,

    That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,

    Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch,

    Only to stick it in their children's sight

    For terror, not to use, in time the rod

    Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees,

    Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;

    And liberty plucks justice by the nose;

    The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart

    Goes all decorum.

  FRIAR. It rested in your Grace

    To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleas'd;

    And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd

    Than in Lord Angelo.

  DUKE. I do fear, too dreadful.

    Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope,

    'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them

    For what I bid them do; for we bid this be done,

    When evil deeds have their permissive pass

    And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father,

    I have on Angelo impos'd the office;

    Who may, in th' ambush of my name, strike home,

    And yet my nature never in the fight

    To do in slander. And to behold his sway,

    I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,

    Visit both prince and people. Therefore, I prithee,

    Supply me with the habit, and instruct me

    How I may formally in person bear me

    Like a true friar. Moe reasons for this action

    At our more leisure shall I render you.

    Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise;

    Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses

    That his blood flows, or that his appetite

    Is more to bread than stone. Hence shall we see,

    If power change purpose, what our seemers be. Exeunt

SCENE IV. A nunnery

Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA

  ISABELLA. And have you nuns no farther privileges?

  FRANCISCA. Are not these large enough?

  ISABELLA. Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more,

    But rather wishing a more strict restraint

    Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.

  LUCIO. Ho! Peace be in this place!

  ISABELLA. Who's that which calls?

  FRANCISCA. It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella,

    Turn you the key, and know his business of him:

    You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn;

    When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men

    But in the presence of the prioress;

    Then, if you speak, you must not show your face,

    Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.

    He calls again; I pray you answer him. Exit FRANCISCA

  ISABELLA. Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls?

Enter LUCIO

  LUCIO. Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses

    Proclaim you are no less. Can you so stead me

    As bring me to the sight of Isabella,

    A novice of this place, and the fair sister

    To her unhappy brother Claudio?

  ISABELLA. Why her 'unhappy brother'? Let me ask

    The rather, for I now must make you know

    I am that Isabella, and his sister.

  LUCIO. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you.

    Not to be weary with you, he's in prison.

  ISABELLA. Woe me! For what?

  LUCIO. For that which, if myself might be his judge,

    He should receive his punishment in thanks:

    He hath got his friend with child.

  ISABELLA. Sir, make me not your story.

  LUCIO. It is true.

    I would not- though 'tis my familiar sin

    With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest,

    Tongue far from heart- play with all virgins so:

    I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted,

    By your renouncement an immortal spirit,

    And to be talk'd with in sincerity,

    As with a saint.

  ISABELLA. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.

  LUCIO. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus:

    Your brother and his lover have embrac'd.

    As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time

    That from the seedness the bare fallow brings

    To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb

    Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.

  ISABELLA. Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet?

  LUCIO. Is she your cousin?

  ISABELLA. Adoptedly, as school-maids change their names

    By vain though apt affection.

  LUCIO. She it is.

  ISABELLA. O, let him marry her!

  LUCIO. This is the point.

    The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;

    Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,

    In hand, and hope of action; but we do learn,

    By those that know the very nerves of state,

    His givings-out were of an infinite distance

    From his true-meant design. Upon his place,

    And with full line of his authority,

    Governs Lord Angelo, a man whose blood

    Is very snow-broth, one who never feels

    The wanton stings and motions of the sense,

    But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge

    With profits of the mind, study and fast.

    He- to give fear to use and liberty,

    Which have for long run by the hideous law,

    As mice by lions- hath pick'd out an act

    Under whose heavy sense your brother's life

    Falls into forfeit; he arrests him on it,

    And follows close the rigour of the statute

    To make him an example. All hope is gone,

    Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer

    To soften Angelo. And that's my pith of business

    'Twixt you and your poor brother.

  ISABELLA. Doth he so seek his life?

  LUCIO. Has censur'd him

    Already, and, as I hear, the Provost hath

    A warrant for his execution.

  ISABELLA. Alas! what poor ability's in me

    To do him good?

  LUCIO. Assay the pow'r you have.

  ISABELLA. My power, alas, I doubt!

  LUCIO. Our doubts are traitors,

    And make us lose the good we oft might win

    By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo,

    And let him learn to know, when ma