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. Claud. Come, officer, away. SCENE IV-A monastery. [Exeunt. Enter Duke and Duke. No; holy father; throw away that thought; Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete 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, (A man of stricture,6 and firm abstinence,) (1) Enter on her probation. (2) Prompt. My absolute power and place here in Vienna, You will demand of me, why I do this? Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting laws (The needful bits and curbs 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 The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart 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, To do it slander: and to behold his sway, (1) Since. How I may formally in person bear me Is more to bread than stone: hence shall we see, [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; 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; Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be; as those cheek roses Proclaim you are no less! can you so stead me, A novice of this place, and the fair sister (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. Lucio. For that, which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks : Isab. Sir, make me not your story.1 Lucio. It is true. 1 would not-though 'tis my familiar sin 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 : İsab. Some one with child by him?-My cousin Lucio. Is she your cousin? Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change their This Isab. O, let him marry her! Governs lord Angelo; a man, whose blood Which have, for long, run by the hideous law, Of business 'twixt you and your poor brother. Lucio. Has censur'd3 him Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution. Isab. Alas! what poor ability's in me To do him good? Lucio. Assay the power you have. Isab. 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 maidens sue, Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, (1) Extent. (2) Power of gaining favour. |