with you.

Claud. One word, good friend:-Lucio, a word [Takes him aside. Lucio. A hundred, if they'll do you any good.is lechery so look'd after?

Claud. 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 dower
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?

Claud. 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

may know

A horse whereon the governor doth ride,
Who, newly in the seat, that it
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 the

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 tickle2 on thy shoulders, that a milk-maid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke, and appeal to him.

(1) Yearly circles.

(2) Ticklish,

Claud. I have done so, but he's not to be found. I pr'ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service : This day my sister should the cloister enter, And there receive her approbation :1 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 prone2 and speechless dialect, Such as moves men; besides, she hath prosperous art When she will play with reason and discourse.

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.

Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio.
Lucio. Within two hours,

Claud. Come, officer, away.

SCENE IV-A monastery.
Friar Thomas.

[Exeunt.

Enter Duke and

Duke. No; holy father; throw away that thought; Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a cómplete bosom :3 why I desire thee To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burning youth.

Fri.
May your grace speak of it?
Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than you
How I have ever lov'd the life remov'd;4
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies,
Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keeps.5
I have delivered to lord Angelo

(A man of stricture,6 and firm abstinence,)

(1) Enter on her probation. (2) Prompt.
Completely armed. (4) Retired.
Showy dress resides. (6) Strictness.

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 receiv'd: now, pious sir,
You will demand of me, why I do this?

Fri. Gladly, my lord.

Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting laws

(The needful bits and carbs for headstrong steeds,)
Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep;
Even like an over-grown 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.

Fri.

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 the ambush of my name, strike home,
And yet my nature never in the sight,

To do it slander: and to behold his sway,
I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,
Visit both prince and people: therefore, I pr'ythee,
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me

(1) Since.

How I may formally in person bear me
Like a true friar. More reasons for this action,
At our more leisure shall I render you;
Only, this one :--Lord Angelo is precise;
Stands at a guard1 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 V.-A nunnery. Enter Isabella and

Francisca.

Isab. And have you nuns no further privileges? Fran. Are not these large enough?

Isab. 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! [Within. Isab. Who's that which calls? Fran. It is a man's voice: gentle Isabella, Turn you the key, and know his business of him; I may not; you are yet unsworn: When you have vow'd, you must not speak with

You may,

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. Isab. Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls

Enter Lucio.

Lucio. Hail, virgin,

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?

you be; as those cheek.

(1) On his defence.

Isab. 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.
Isab. Wo 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.

Isab. Sir, make me not your story.1
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 ensky'd, and sainted;
By your renouncement, an immortal spirit;
And to be talk'd with in sincerity,

As with a saint.

Isab. You do blaspheme the good, in mocking

me.

Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth,2 '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 ;3 even so her plenteous womb
Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.

İsab. Some one with child by him?-My cousin

Juliet?

Lucio. Is she your cousin?

Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change their

names,

By vain though apt affection.
Lucio.

She it is.

(1) Do not make a jest of me.

(2) In few and true words. (3) Breeding plenty. (4) Tilling.