ACT IV

SCENE I. A room in Mariana’s house.

Enter Mariana and a Boy singing.

                SONG
  Take, O take those lips away,
      That so sweetly were forsworn,
  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.

Enter Duke as a Friar.

MARIANA.
Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away;
Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice
Hath often stilled my brawling discontent.

[Exit Boy.]

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.

DUKE.
’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 have I promised here to meet.

MARIANA.
You have not been inquired after. I have sat here all day.

Enter Isabella.

DUKE.
I do constantly believe you. The time is come even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little. Maybe I will call upon you anon for some advantage to yourself.

MARIANA.
I am always bound to you.

[Exit.]

DUKE.
Very well met, and welcome.
What is the news from this good deputy?

ISABELLA.
He hath a garden circummured 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 on him.

DUKE.
But shall you on your knowledge find this way?

ISABELLA.
I have ta’en a due and wary note upon’t;
With whispering and most guilty diligence,
In action all of precept, he did show me
The way twice o’er.

DUKE.
Are there no other tokens
Between you ’greed concerning her observance?

ISABELLA.
No, none, but only a repair i’ th’ 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.

DUKE.
’Tis well borne up.
I have not yet made known to Mariana
A word of this.—What ho, within! Come forth.

Enter Mariana.

I pray you be acquainted with this maid;
She comes to do you good.

ISABELLA.
I do desire the like.

DUKE.
Do you persuade yourself that I respect you?

MARIANA.
Good friar, I know you do, and have found it.

DUKE.
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.

MARIANA.
Will’t please you walk aside?

[Exeunt Mariana and Isabella.]

DUKE.
O place and greatness, millions of false eyes
Are stuck upon thee; volumes of report
Run with these false, and most contrarious quest
Upon thy doings; thousand escapes of wit
Make thee the father of their idle dream
And rack thee in their fancies.

Enter Mariana and Isabella.

Welcome; how agreed?

ISABELLA.
She’ll take the enterprise upon her, father,
If you advise it.

DUKE.
It is not my consent,
But my entreaty too.

ISABELLA.
Little have you to say
When you depart from him, but, soft and low,
“Remember now my brother.”

MARIANA.
Fear me not.

DUKE.
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 tithe’s to sow.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE II. A room in the prison.

Enter Provost and Pompey.

PROVOST.
Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man’s head?

POMPEY.
If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can; but if he be a married man, he’s his wife’s head, and I can never cut off a woman’s head.

PROVOST.
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 gyves; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping; for you have been a notorious bawd.

POMPEY.
Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind, but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow-partner.

PROVOST.
What ho, Abhorson! Where’s Abhorson, there?

Enter Abhorson.

ABHORSON.
Do you call, sir?

PROVOST.
Sirrah, here’s a 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 bawd.

ABHORSON.
A bawd, sir? Fie upon him, he will discredit our mystery.

PROVOST.
Go to, sir; you weigh equally. A feather will turn the scale.

[Exit.]

POMPEY.
Pray, 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?

ABHORSON.
Ay, sir, a mystery.

POMPEY.
Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, 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.

ABHORSON.
Sir, it is a mystery.

POMPEY.
Proof.

ABHORSON.
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.

Enter Provost.

PROVOST.
Are you agreed?

POMPEY.
Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd. He doth oftener ask forgiveness.

PROVOST.
You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe tomorrow four o’clock.

ABHORSON.
Come on, bawd. I will instruct thee in my trade. Follow.

POMPEY.
I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare. For truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn.

PROVOST.
Call hither Barnardine and Claudio.

[Exeunt Abhorson and Pompey.]

Th’ one has my pity; not a jot 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 Barnardine?

CLAUDIO.
As fast locked up in sleep as guiltless labour
When it lies starkly in the traveller’s bones.
He will not wake.

PROVOST.
Who can do good on him?
Well, go, prepare yourself. [Knocking within.] But hark, what noise?
Heaven give your spirits comfort!

[Exit Claudio. Knock within.]

By and by!—
I hope it is some pardon or reprieve
For the most gentle Claudio.

Enter Duke.

Welcome, father.

DUKE.
The best and wholesom’st spirits of the night
Envelop you, good Provost! Who called here of late?

PROVOST.
None, since the curfew rung.

DUKE.
Not Isabel?

PROVOST.
No.

DUKE.
They will then, ere’t be long.

PROVOST.
What comfort is for Claudio?

DUKE.
There’s some in hope.

PROVOST.
It is a bitter deputy.

DUKE.
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. Provost goes to the door.]

Now are they come.
This is a gentle provost. Seldom when
The steeled gaoler is the friend of men.

[Knocking within.]

How now? What noise? That spirit’s possessed with haste
That wounds th’ unsisting postern with these strokes.

Provost returns.

PROVOST.
There he must stay until the officer
Arise to let him in. He is called up.

DUKE.
Have you no countermand for Claudio yet,
But he must die tomorrow?

PROVOST.
None, sir, none.

DUKE.
As near the dawning, Provost, as it is,
You shall hear more ere morning.

PROVOST.
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.

DUKE.
And here comes Claudio’s pardon.

MESSENGER.
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.

PROVOST.
I shall obey him.

[Exit Messenger.]

DUKE.
[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 borne in high authority.
When vice makes mercy, mercy’s so extended
That for the fault’s love is th’ offender friended.
Now, sir, what news?

PROVOST.
I told you: Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting-on; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before.

DUKE.
Pray you, let’s hear.

PROVOST.
[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?

DUKE.
What is that Barnardine who is to be executed in th’ afternoon?

PROVOST.
A Bohemian born, but here nursed up and bred; one that is a prisoner nine years old.

DUKE.
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.

PROVOST.
His friends still wrought reprieves for him; and indeed, his fact till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof.

DUKE.
It is now apparent?

PROVOST.
Most manifest, and not denied by himself.

DUKE.
Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? How seems he to be touched?

PROVOST.
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.

DUKE.
He wants advice.

PROVOST.
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.

DUKE.
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.

PROVOST.
Pray, sir, in what?

DUKE.
In the delaying death.

PROVOST.
Alack, 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.

DUKE.
By the vow of mine order, I warrant you, if my instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head borne to Angelo.

PROVOST.
Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour.

DUKE.
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.

PROVOST.
Pardon me, good father; it is against my oath.

DUKE.
Were you sworn to the Duke, or to the Deputy?

PROVOST.
To him and to his substitutes.

DUKE.
You will think you have made no offence if the Duke avouch the justice of your dealing?

PROVOST.
But what likelihood is in that?

DUKE.
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.

PROVOST.
I know them both.

DUKE.
The contents of this is the return of the Duke; you shall anon over-read 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 tenour, perchance of the Duke’s death, perchance entering into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ. Look, th’ 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 shrift, and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amazed; but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Another room in the same.

Enter Pompey.

POMPEY.
I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession. One would think it were Mistress Overdone’s own house, for here be many of her 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. Marry, 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 have we here young Dizie, and young Master Deep-vow, and Master Copperspur, and Master Starve-lackey, the rapier and dagger man, and young Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and Master Forthright the tilter, and brave Master Shoe-tie the great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabbed Pots, and I think forty more, all great doers in our trade, and are now “for the Lord’s sake.”

Enter Abhorson.

ABHORSON.
Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.

POMPEY.
Master Barnardine! You must rise and be hanged, Master Barnardine.

ABHORSON.
What ho, Barnardine!

BARNARDINE.
[Within.] A pox o’ your throats! Who makes that noise there? What are you?

POMPEY.
Your friends, sir; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death.

BARNARDINE.
[Within.] Away, you rogue, away; I am sleepy.

ABHORSON.
Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too.

POMPEY.
Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards.

ABHORSON.
Go in to him, and fetch him out.

POMPEY.
He is coming, sir, he is coming. I hear his straw rustle.

Enter Barnardine.

ABHORSON.
Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?

POMPEY.
Very ready, sir.

BARNARDINE.
How now, Abhorson? What’s the news with you?

ABHORSON.
Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers; for, look you, the warrant’s come.

BARNARDINE.
You rogue, I have been drinking all night; I am not fitted for’t.

POMPEY.
O, the better, sir; for he that drinks all night and is hanged betimes in the morning may sleep the sounder all the next day.

Enter Duke.

ABHORSON.
Look you, sir, here comes your ghostly father. Do we jest now, think you?

DUKE.
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.

BARNARDINE.
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.

DUKE.
O, sir, you must; and therefore I beseech you
Look forward on the journey you shall go.

BARNARDINE.
I swear I will not die today for any man’s persuasion.

DUKE.
But hear you—

BARNARDINE.
Not a word. If you have anything to say to me, come to my ward, for thence will not I today.

[Exit.]

DUKE.
Unfit to live or die. O gravel heart!
After him, fellows; bring him to the block.

[Exeunt Abhorson and Pompey.]

Enter Provost.

PROVOST.
Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner?

DUKE.
A creature unprepared, unmeet for death;
And to transport him in the mind he is
Were damnable.

PROVOST.
Here in the prison, father,
There died this morning of a cruel fever
One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,
A man of Claudio’s years; his beard and head
Just of his colour. What if we do omit
This reprobate till he were well inclined,
And satisfy the Deputy with the visage
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio?

DUKE.
O, ’tis an accident that heaven provides!
Dispatch it presently; the hour draws on
Prefixed by Angelo. See this be done,
And sent according to command, whiles I
Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.

PROVOST.
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?

DUKE.
Let this be done:
Put them in secret holds, both Barnardine and Claudio.
Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting
To yonder generation, you shall find
Your safety manifested.

PROVOST.
I am your free dependant.

DUKE.
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.

Enter Provost.

PROVOST.
Here is the head; I’ll carry it myself.

DUKE.
Convenient is it. Make a swift return;
For I would commune with you of such things
That want no ear but yours.

PROVOST.
I’ll make all speed.

[Exit.]

ISABELLA.
[Within.] Peace, ho, be here!

DUKE.
The tongue of Isabel. She’s come to know
If yet her brother’s pardon be come hither.
But I will keep her ignorant of her good,
To make her heavenly comforts of despair
When it is least expected.

Enter Isabella.

ISABELLA.
Ho, by your leave!

DUKE.
Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.

ISABELLA.
The better, given me by so holy a man.
Hath yet the Deputy sent my brother’s pardon?

DUKE.
He hath released him, Isabel, from the world.
His head is off, and sent to Angelo.

ISABELLA.
Nay, but it is not so.

DUKE.
It is no other.
Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience.

ISABELLA.
O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes!

DUKE.
You shall not be admitted to his sight.

ISABELLA.
Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel!
Injurious world! Most damned Angelo!

DUKE.
This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot.
Forbear it, therefore; give your cause to heaven.
Mark what I say, which you shall find
By every syllable a 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.

ISABELLA.
I am directed by you.

DUKE.
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 Mariana’s house tonight. Her cause and yours
I’ll perfect him withal, 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. Wend you with this letter.
Command these fretting waters from your eyes
With a light heart; trust not my holy order,
If I pervert your course.—Who’s here?

Enter Lucio.

LUCIO.
Good even. Friar, where is the Provost?

DUKE.
Not within, sir.

LUCIO.
O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes so red. Thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran. I dare not for my head fill my belly. One fruitful meal would set me to’t. But they say the Duke will be here tomorrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother. If the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived.

[Exit Isabella.]

DUKE.
Sir, the Duke is marvellous little beholding to your reports; but the best is, he lives not in them.

LUCIO.
Friar, thou knowest not the Duke so well as I do. He’s a better woodman than thou tak’st him for.

DUKE.
Well, you’ll answer this one day. Fare ye well.

LUCIO.
Nay, tarry, I’ll go along with thee. I can tell thee pretty tales of the Duke.

DUKE.
You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true; if not true, none were enough.

LUCIO.
I was once before him for getting a wench with child.

DUKE.
Did you such a thing?

LUCIO.
Yes, marry, did I; but I was fain to forswear it. They would else have married me to the rotten medlar.

DUKE.
Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well.

LUCIO.
By my troth, I’ll go with thee to the lane’s end. If bawdy talk offend you, we’ll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE IV. A room in Angelo’s house.

Enter Angelo and Escalus.

ESCALUS.
Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other.

ANGELO.
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 redeliver our authorities there?

ESCALUS.
I guess not.

ANGELO.
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?

ESCALUS.
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.

ANGELO.
Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaimed.
Betimes i’ th’ morn I’ll call you at your house.
Give notice to such men of sort and suit
As are to meet him.

ESCALUS.
I shall, sir. Fare you well.

[Exit.]

ANGELO.
Good night.
This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant
And dull to all proceedings. A deflowered 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 so credent bulk
That no particular scandal once can touch
But it confounds the breather. He should have lived,
Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense,
Might in the times to come have ta’en revenge
By so receiving a dishonoured 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.]

SCENE V. Fields without the town.

Enter Duke, in his own habit, and Friar Peter.

DUKE.
These letters at fit time deliver me.
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 doth minister. Go call at Flavius’ house,
And tell him where I stay. Give the like notice
To Valencius, Rowland, and to Crassus,
And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate.
But send me Flavius first.

FRIAR PETER.
It shall be speeded well.

[Exit Friar Peter.]

Enter Varrius.

DUKE.
I thank thee, Varrius, thou hast made good haste.
Come, we will walk. There’s other of our friends
Will greet us here anon. My gentle Varrius.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VI. Street near the city gate.

Enter Isabella and Mariana.

ISABELLA.
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.

MARIANA.
Be ruled by him.

ISABELLA.
Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure
He speak against me on the adverse side,
I should not think it strange, for ’tis a physic
That’s bitter to sweet end.

MARIANA.
I would Friar Peter—

Enter Friar Peter.

ISABELLA.
O, peace, the friar is come.

FRIAR PETER.
Come, I have found you out a stand most fit,
Where you may have such vantage on the Duke
He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded.
The generous and gravest citizens
Have hent the gates, and very near upon
The Duke is entering. Therefore hence, away.

[Exeunt.]