The jewel that we find, we stoop and take't
Because we see it; but what we do not see
We tread upon, and never think of it.
You may not so extenuate his offence

For I have had such faults; but rather tell me,
When I, that censure him, do so offend,
Let mine own judgement pattern out my death,
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.
Escal. Be it as your wisdom will.
Ang.

Where is the provost?
Prov. Here, if it like your honour.
Ang.

See that Claudio Be executed by nine to-morrow morning: Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared; For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. [Exit Provost. Escal [Aside] Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all!

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:

†Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone.

Enter ELBOW, and Officers with FROTH and

POMPEY.

40

Elb. Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a commonweal that do nothing but use

their abuses in common houses, I know no law: bring them away.

Ang. How now, sir! What's your name?

and what's the matter?

Elb. If it please your honour, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow: I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors.

50

Ang. Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they are they not malefactors?

Elb. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have.

Escal. This comes off well; here's a wise officer.

Ang. Go to: what quality are they of? Elbow is your name? why dost thou not speak, Elbow? Pom. He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow. Ang. What are you, sir?

61

El. He, sir! a tapster, sir: parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, | as they say, plucked down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too.

Escal. How know you that?

Elb. My wife, sir, whom I detest before heaven and your honour,

Escal. How? thy wife?

70

Elb. Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman,—

Escal. Dost thou detest her therefore?

Elb. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.

Escal. How dost thou know that, constable? Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there.

Escal. By the woman's means?

Elb. Ay, sir, by Mistress Overdone's means: but as she spit in his face, so she defied him. Pom. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man; prove it.

Escal

Do you hear how he misplaces? Pom. Sir, she came in great with child; and longing, saving your honour's reverence, for stewed prunes; sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three-pence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes,

Escal. Go to, go to: no matter for the dish, sir. Pom. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right: but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; for, as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you three-pence again.

Froth. No, indeed.

Froth. Ay, so I did indeed. Pom. Why, very well; I telling you then, if you be remembered, that such a one and such a one were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you,Froth. All this is true.

Pom. Why, very well, then.

Escal. Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. What was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to complain of? Come me to what was done to her.

Pom. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not.

Pom. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave. And, I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a year; whose father died at Hallowmas: was't not at Hallowmas, Master Froth?

Froth. All-hallond eve.

130 Pom. Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir; 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where indeed you have a delight to sit, have you not?

Froth. I have so; because it is an open room and good for winter.

Pom. Why, very well, then; I hope here be truths.

Ang. This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there: I'll take my leave,

And leave you to the hearing of the cause; Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them

all.

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.

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

190

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

Escal. Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou knowest 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.

Escal. Where were you born, friend?
Froth. Here in Vienna, sir.
Escal

201

Are you of fourscore pounds a year? Froth. Yes, an't please you, sir.

Escal. So. What trade are you of, sir?
Pom. A tapster; a poor widow's tapster.
Escal. Your mistress' name?
Mistress Overdone.

140

Pom.

Escal

Hath she had any more than one hus

Escal. Why, no.

Pom. 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.

Escal 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.

Pom. 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.

live.

Escal

Pom. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would How would you live, Pompey? by being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey is it a lawful trade? Pom. If the law would allow it, sir. Escal But the law will not allow it, Pompey: nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna, Pom. Does your worship mean to geld and splay all the youth of the city? Escal. No, Pompey. Pom. Truly, sir. in my poor opinion, they will to't then. If your worship will take order

241

Ang.

He's sentenced; 'tis too late. Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] You are too cold. 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, 60
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 then be thus?
No; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge,
And what a prisoner.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Ay, touch him; there's

the vein.

Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law,
And you but waste your words.
Isab
Alas, alas!
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.
It is the law, not I condemn your brother:
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son,

Be you content, fair maid:

70

80

It should be thus with him: he must die tomorrow.

Isab. To-morrow! O, that's sudden! Spare him, spare him!

He's not prepared for death. Even for our

kitchens

For then I pity those I do not know,
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall:
And do him right that, answering one foul wrong,
Lives not to act another. Be satisfied;
Your brother dies to-morrow; be content.

Isab. So you must be the first that gives this

sentence,

And he, that suffers. O, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant.

120

Most ignorant of what he's most assured,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As make the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] O, to him, to him. wench he will relent;

He's coming; I perceive't.

Prov. [Aside] 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 i' the right, girl; more o' that. Isab That in the captain's but a choleric word.

Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

130

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 140
Against my brother's life.
Ang.

[Aside] She speaks, and 'tis Such sense, that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well.

Isab. Gentle my lord, turn back.

Ang. I will bethink me: come again to-morrow. Isab. Hark how I'll bribe you: good my lord, turn back.

Ang. How! bribe me?

Isab. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.

Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] You had marr'd all

else.

Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold. Or stones whose rates are either rich or poor 150 As fancy values them; but with true prayers That shall be up at heaven and enter there

Ere sun-rise, prayers from preserved souls, From fasting maids whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal.

Ang

Well; come to me to-morrow. Lucio. [Aside to Isab.] Go to; 'tis well; away! Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe! Ang.

[Aside] Amen: For I am that way going to temptation, Where prayers cross. Isab. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship? Ang At any time 'fore noon. 160 Isab. 'Save your honour! [Exeunt Isabella, Lucio, and Provost. 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,

170

Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary
And pitch our evils there? O, fie, fie, fie!
What dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo?
Dost thou desire her foully for those things
That make her good? O, let her brother live:
Thieves for their robbery have authority
When judges steal themselves. What, do I love
her,

That I desire to hear her speak again,
And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on?
O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint, 180
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 smiled and wonder'd

Enter ANgelo.

Ang. When I would pray and think, I think and pray

To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words;

Whilst my invention, 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, 10
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 art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn:
Tis not the devil's crest.

Enter a Servant.

How now! who's there? Serv. One Isabel, a sister, desires access to

you.