William Shakespeare's Measure for Measure in the complete original text.
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Measure for Measure

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Act V. Scene I.

Act V. Scene I.—A public Place near the
City Gate.

MARIANA, veiled, ISABELLA, and FRIAR
PETER, at their stand. Enter DUKE, VARRIUS,
Lords, ANGELO, ESCALUS, LUCIO,
PROVOST, Officers, and Citizens at several doors.

Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met!
Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see
you.
Ang. & Escal.} Happy return be to your royal Grace!
Duke. 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,
Forerunning more requital.
Ang. You make my bonds still greater.
Duke. O! your desert 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 'gainst the tooth of time
And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand,
And let the subject see, to make them know
That outward courtesies would fain 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.
F. Peter. Now is your time: speak loud and
kneel before him,
Isab. Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard
Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have said, a maid!
O worthy prince! dishonour not 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!
Duke. Relate your wrongs: in what? by
whom? Be brief;
Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice:
Reveal yourself to him.
Isab. 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 believ'd,
Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O, hear
me, here!
Ang. 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,—
Isab. By course of justice!
Ang. And she will speak most bitterly and
strange.
Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I
speak.
That Angelo's forsworn, is it not strange?
That Angelo's a murderer, is't not strange?
That Angelo is an adulterous thief,
A hypocrite, a virgin-violator;
Is it not strange, and strange?
Duke. Nay, it is ten times strange.
Isab. 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.
Duke. Away with her! poor soul,
She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.
Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou be-
liev'st
There is another comfort than this world,
That thou neglect me not, with-that opinion
That I am touch'd with madness. Make not
impossible
That which but seems unlike. 'Tis not im-
possible
But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute
As Angelo; even so may Angela,
In all his dressings, characts, 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.
Duke. 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 e'er I heard in madness.
Isab. 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.
Duke. Many that are not mad
Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would
you say?
Isab. I am the sister of one Claudio,
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication
To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo.
I, in probation of a sisterhood,
Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio
As then the messenger,—
Lucio. That's I, an't like your Grace:
I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her
To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo
For her poor brother's pardon.
Isab. That's he indeed.
Duke. You were not bid to speak.
Lucio. No, my good lord;
Nor wish'd to hold my peace.
Duke. I wish you now, then;
Pray you, take note of it; and when you
have
A business for yourself, pray heaven you then
Be perfect.
Lucio. I warrant your honour.
Duke. The warrant's for yourself: take heed
to it.
Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my
tale,—
Lucio. Right.
Duke. It may be right; but you are in the
wrong
To speak before your time. Proceed.
Isab. I went
To this pernicious caitiff deputy.
Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken.
Isab. Pardon it;
The phrase is to the matter.
Duke. Mended again: the matter; proceed.
Isab. In brief, to set the needless pro-
cess by,
How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd,
How he refell'd me, and how I replied,—
For this was of much length,— the vile con-
clusion
I now begin with grief and shame to utter.
He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupiscible intemperate lust,
Release my brother; and, after much debate-
ment,
My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,
And I did yield to him. But the next morn
betimes,
His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
For my poor brother's head.
Duke. This is most likely!
Isab. O, that it were as like as it is true!
Duke. By heaven, fond wretch! thou know'st
not what thou speak'st,
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour
In hateful practice. First, his integrity
Stands without blemish; next, it imports no
reason
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himself; if he had so offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off. Some one hath set
you on:
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
Thou cam'st here to complain.
Isab. And is this all?
Then, O you blessed ministers above,
Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time
Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up
In countenance! Heaven shield your Grace from
woe,
As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!
Duke. I know you'd fain be gone.
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 and coming hither?
Isab. One that I would were here, Friar
Lodowick.
Duke. A ghostly father, belike. Who knows
that Lodowick?
Lucio. 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 swing'd him soundly.
Duke. Words against me! This' a good friar,
belike!
And to set on this wretched woman here
Against our substitute! Let this friar be found.
Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and
that friar,
I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar,
A very scurvy fellow.
F. Peter. Bless'd be your royal Grace!
I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd. First, hath this woman
Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute,
Who is as free from touch or soil with her,
As she from one ungot.
Duke. We did believe no less.
Know you that Friar Lodowick that she
speaks of?
F. Peter. 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.
Lucio. My lord, most villanously; believe it.
F. Peter. 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 com-
plaint
Intended 'gainst 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 accus'd,
Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,
Till she herself confess it.
Duke. Good friar, let's hear it.
[ISABELLA is carried off guarded; and
MARIANA 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.
Mari. Pardon, my lord; I will not show
my face
Until my husband bid me.
Duke. What, are you married?
Mari. No, my lord.
Duke. Are you a maid?
Man. No, my lord.
Duke. A widow, then?
Mari. Neither, my lord.
Duke. Why, you
Are nothing, then: neither maid, widow, nor
wife?
Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for
many of them are neither maid, widow, nor
wife.
Duke. Silence that fellow; I would he had
some cause
To prattle for himself.
Lucio. Well, my lord.
Mari. 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.
Lucio. He was drunk then my lord: it can
be no better.
Duke. For the benefit of silence, would thou
wert so too!
Lucio. Well, my lord.
Duke. This is no witness for Lord Angelo.
Mari. Now I come to 't, 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 th' effect of love.
Ang. Charges she moe than me?
Mari. Not that I know.
Duke. No? you say your husband.
Mari. 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.
Ang. This is a strange abuse. Let's see
thy face.
Mari. My husband bids me; now I will
unmask. [Unveiling.
This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,
Which once thou swor'st was worth the looking
on:
This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract,
Was fast belock'd in thine: this is the body
That took away the match from Isabel,
And did supply thee at thy garden-house
In her imagin'd person.
Duke. Know you this woman?
Lucio. Carnally, she says.
Duke. Sirrah, no more!
Lucio. Enough, my lord.
Ang. 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 promised 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.
Mari. Noble prince,
As there comes light from heaven and words
from breath,
As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue,
I am affianc'd this man's wife as strongly
As words could make up vows: and, my good
lord,
But Tuesday night last gone in's garden-house
He knew me as a wife. As this is true,
Let me in safety raise me from my knees
Or else for ever be confixed here,
A marble monument.
Ang. I did but smile till now:
Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice;
My patience here is touch'd. 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.
Duke. Ay, with my heart;
And punish them unto your height of plea-
sure.
Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman,
Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou thy
oaths,
Though they would swear down each particular
saint,
Were testimonies against his worth and credit
That's seal'd in approbation? You, Lord Es-
calus,
Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains
To find out this abuse, whence 'tis deriv'd.
There is another friar that set them on;
Let him be sent for.
F. Peter. Would he were here, my lord;
for he indeed
Hath set the women on to this complaint;
Your provost knows the place where he abides
And he may fetch him.
Duke. 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 awhile will leave
you;
But stir not you, till you have well determined
Upon these slanderers.
Escal. My lord, we'll do it throughly.—
[Exit DUKE.
Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that
Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?
Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum: ho-
nest in nothing, but in his clothes; and one
that hath spoke most villanous speeches of
the duke.
Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here
till he come and enforce them against him. We
shall find this friar a notable fellow.
Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word.
Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again:
I would speak with her. [Exit an Attendant]
Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question;
you shall see how I'll handle her.
Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report.
Escal. Say you?
Lucio. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her
privately, she would sooner confess: perchance,
publicly, she'll be ashamed.
Escal. I will go darkly to work with her.
Lucio. That's the way: for women are light
at midnight.

Re-enter Officers with ISABELLA.
Escal. [To ISAB.] Come on, mistress: here's
a gentlewoman denies all that you have said.
Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke
of; here with the provost.
Escal. In very good time: speak not you to
him, till we call upon you.

Enter DUKE, disguised as a friar, and
PROVOST.
Lucio. Mum.
Escal. Come, sir. Did you set these women
on to slander Lord Angelo? they have confessed
you did.
Duke. 'Tis false.
Escal. How! know you where you are?
Duke. Respect to your great place! and let
the devil
Be sometime honour'd for his burning throne.
Where is the duke? 'tis he should hear me
speak.
Escal. The duke's in us, and we will hear
you speak:
Look you speak justly.
Duke. Boldly, at least. But, O, 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 un-
just,
Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
And put your trial in the villain's mouth
Which here you come to accuse.
Lucio. This is the rascal: this is he I spoke
of.
Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd
friar!
Is't not enough thou hast suborn'd these 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 him-
self,
To tax him with injustice? take him hence;
To the rack with him! We'll touse you joint
by joint,
But we will know his purpose. What! 'unjust'?
Duke. 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 here provincial. My business in this state
Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,
Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble
Till it o'er-run the stew: laws for all faults,
But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong
statutes
Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
As much in mock as mark.
Escal. Slander to the state! Away with him
to prison!
Ang. What can you vouch against him,
Signior Lucio?
Is this the man that you did tell us of?
Lucio. Tis he, my lord. Come hither, good-
man bald-pate: do you know me?
Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound of
your voice: I met you at the prison, in the
absence of the duke.
Lucio. O! did you so? And do you remem-
ber what you said of the duke?
Duke. Most notedly, sir.
Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the duke a
flesh-monger, a fool, and a coward, as you then
reported him to be?
Duke. You must, sir, change persons with
me, ere you make that my report: you, indeed,
spoke so of him; and much more, much worse.
Lucio. O thou damnable fellow! Did not I
pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches?
Duke. I protest I love the duke as I love
myself.
Ang. Hark how the villain would close now,
after his treasonable abuses.
Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd
withal.
Away with him to prison! Where is the
provost?
Away with him to prison! Lay bolts enough on
him, let him speak no more. Away with those
giglots too, and with the other confederate com-
panion!
[The PROVOST lays hands on the DUKE.
Duke. Stay, sir; stay awhile.
Ang. What! resists he? Help him, Lucio.
Lucio, Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh!
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 an hour! Will't
not off?
[Pulls off the friars hood, and discovers
the DUKE.]
Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er
made a duke.
First, provost, let me bail these gentle three.
[To LUCIO.] Sneak not away, sir; for the friar
and you
Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him.
Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging.
Duke. [To ESCALUS.] 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 thee office? If thou hast,
Rely upon it till my tale be heard,
And hold no longer out.
Ang. O my dread lord!
I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,
To think I can be undiscernible
When I perceive your Grace, like power divine,
Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince,
No longer session hold upon my shame,
But let my trial be mine own confession:
Immediate sentence then and sequent death
Is all the grace I beg.
Duke. Come hither, Mariana,
Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman?
Ang. I was, my lord.
Duke. Go take her hence, and marry he]
instantly.
Do you the office, friar; which consummate,
Return him here again. Go with him, provost.
[Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER,
and PROVOST.
Escal. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his
dishonour
Than at the strangeness of it.
Duke. Come hither, Isabel.
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'd at your service.
Isab. O, give me pardon,
That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd
Your unknown sovereignty!
Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel:
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 obscur'd myself,
Labouring to save his life, and would not rather
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power
Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid!
It was the swift celerity of his death,
Which I did think with slower foot came on,
That brain'd 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.
Isab. I do, my lord.

Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER,
and PROVOST.
Duke. For this new-married man approaching
here,
Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well-defended honour, you must pardon
For Mariana's sake. But as he adjudg'd 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 fault's thus manifested,
Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee
vantage,
We do condemn thee to the very block
Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like
haste.
Away with him!
Mari. O, my most gracious lord!
I hope you will not mock me with a husband.
Duke. It is your husband mock'd 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 pos-
sessions,
Although by confiscation they are ours,
We do instate and widow you withal,
To buy you a better husband.
Mari. O my dear lord!
I crave no other, nor no better man.
Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive.
Mari. [Kneeling.] Gentle my liege,—
Duke. You do but lose your labour.
Away with him to death! [To LUCIO.] Now, sir,
to you.
Mari. O 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.
Duke. Against all sense you do importune
her:
Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact,
Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break,
And take her hence in horror.
Mari. 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.
O, Isabel! will you not lend a knee?
Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.
Isab. [Kneeling.] Most bounteous sir,
Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
As if my brother liv'd, I partly think
A due sincerity govern'd 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 o'ertake his bad intent;
And must be buried but as an intent
That perish'd by the way. Thoughts are no
subjects;
Intents but merely thoughts.
Mari. Merely, my lord.
Duke. 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?
Prov. It was commanded so.
Duke. Had you a special warrant for the
deed?
Prov. No, my good lord; it was by private
message.
Duke. For which I do discharge you of your
office:
Give up your keys.
Prov. 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 reserv'd alive.
Duke. What's he?
Prov. His name is Barnardine.
Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.
Go, fetch him hither: let me look upon him.
[Exit PROVOST.
Escal. I am sorry, one so learned and so
wise
As you, Lord Angelo, have still appeared,
Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood,
And lack of tempered judgment afterward.
Ang. 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:
'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.

Re-enter PROVOST, with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO
muffled, and JULIET.
Duke. Which is that Barnardine?
Prov. This, my lord.
Duke. There was a friar told me of this man.
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul,
That apprehends no further than this world,
And squar'st thy life according. Thou'rt con-
demned:
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 fellow 's
that?
Prov. This is another prisoner that I sav'd,
That should have died when Claudio lost his
head,
As like almost to Claudio as himself.
[Unmuffles CLAUDIO.
Duke. [To ISABELLA.] If he be like your bro-
ther, for his sake
Is he pardon'd; 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:
Methinks 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.—
[To LUCIO.] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool,
a coward,
One all of luxury, an ass, a madman:
Wherein have I so deserv'd of you,
That you extol me thus?
Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but accord-
ing to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you
may; but I had rather it would please you I
might be whipped.
Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after.
Proclaim it, provost, round about the city,
If any woman's wrong'd 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 finish'd,
Let him be whipp'd and hang'd.
Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry
me to a whore. Your highness said even now,
I made you a duke: good my lord, do not re-
compense me in making me a cuckold.
Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry
her.
Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal
Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison,
And see our pleasure herein executed.
Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing
to death, whipping, and hanging.
Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it.
She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, 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 good-
ness:
There's 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 Ragozine for Claudio's:
The offence pardons itself. Dear Isabel,
I have a motion much imports your good;
Whereto 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. [Exeunt.
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