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Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.
Well, if there’s no other way, and you’re going to buy and sell people like animals, we’ll all end up drinking the worst of drinks.
O heavens! what stuff is here
Oh, heavens! What is this nonsense?
’Twas never merry world since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allowed by order of law a furred gown to keep him warm; and furred with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify, that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.
The world hasn’t been happy since they shut down the most harmless of usurers, and allowed the worse ones to wear expensive robes to stay warm, and even those robes are made of fur from foxes and lambs, to show that deceit is richer than innocence and that it now stands in place of virtue.
Come your way, sir. ’Bless you, good father friar.
Come along, sir. Bless you, good father friar.
And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir?
And you, good brother father. What has this man done to offend you?
Marry, sir, he hath offended the law: and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange picklock, which we have sent to the deputy.
Well, sir, he’s broken the law, and we think he’s a thief too, because we found a strange lockpick on him, which we’ve sent to the deputy.
Fie, sirrah! a bawd, a wicked bawd! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live. Do thou but think What ’tis to cram a maw or clothe a back From such a filthy vice: say to thyself, From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending? Go mend, go mend.
Shame on you! A bawd, a wicked bawd! The harm you cause by your actions, That’s how you make a living. Just think about What it’s like to feed someone or clothe them With money made from such disgusting work: say to yourself, I live off these horrible, beastly acts. Can you really say your life is a life, When it’s so filthy? Go fix yourself, go fix yourself.
Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove--
Yes, it does stink a bit, sir; but still, I’d like to prove--
Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer: Correction and instruction must both work Ere this rude beast will profit.
No, if the devil has shown you proof of your sin, Then you’ll belong to him. Take him to jail, officer: Punishment and teaching both need to work Before this rude animal will improve.
He must before the deputy, sir; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
He must go before the deputy, sir; he’s been warned by him. The deputy can’t stand a pimp: if he’s a whoremonger, and comes before him, he might as well walk a mile on his errand.
That we were all, as some would seem to be, From our faults, as faults from seeming, free!
If only we were all, as some pretend to be, Free from our faults, as faults are from appearances!
His neck will come to your waist,--a cord, sir.
His neck will fit your waist, --a rope, sir.
I spy comfort; I cry bail. Here’s a gentleman and a friend of mine.
I see hope; I’ll shout bail. Here’s a gentleman and a friend of mine.
How now, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Caesar? art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion’s images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch’d? What reply, ha? What sayest thou to this tune, matter and method? Is’t not drowned i’ the last rain, ha? What sayest thou, Trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? or how? The trick of it?
What’s going on, noble Pompey! What, at the wheels of Caesar? Are you being led in triumph? What, is there no new woman made from Pygmalion’s statues to be had now, for sticking your hand in your pocket and pulling it out clutching money? What’s the news, huh? What do you say to this, the latest gossip? Is it not drowned in the last rain, huh? What’s the word, Trot? Is the world the same, man? Which way is it going? Is it sad and quiet? Or what? The trick of it?
Still thus, and thus; still worse!
Still the same, and worse!
How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still, ha?
How is my dear little woman, your mistress? Is she still working, huh?
Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.
Truly, sir, she’s eaten all her food, and now she’s in the tub.
Why, ’tis good; it is the right of it; it must be so: ever your fresh whore and your powdered bawd: an unshunned consequence; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey?
Well, that’s good; that’s the way it goes; it has to be like that: always your fresh whore and your powdered madam: an inevitable result; it has to happen. Are you going to jail, Pompey?
Yes, faith, sir.
Yes, indeed, sir.
Why, ’tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell: go, say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey? or how?
Well, it’s not so bad, Pompey. Goodbye: go, tell them I sent you there. Is it for debt, Pompey? Or why?
For being a bawd, for being a bawd.
For being a pimp, for being a pimp.
Well, then, imprison him: if imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, ’tis his right: bawd is he doubtless, and of antiquity too; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey: you will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.
Well, then, imprison him: if prison is what a pimp deserves, then it’s his right: he’s a pimp for sure, and of ancient origin too; born to be a pimp. Goodbye, good Pompey. Send my regards to the prison, Pompey: you’ll be a good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house.
I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail.
I hope, sir, your honor will be my bail.
No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage: If you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. ’Bless you, friar.
No, I won’t, Pompey; it’s not worth the trouble. I’ll pray, Pompey, that your punishment is increased: If you can’t take it calmly, well, you’re tougher than I thought. Goodbye, loyal Pompey. Bless you, friar.
And you.
And you.
Does Bridget paint still, Pompey, ha?
Is Bridget still painting, Pompey, huh?
Come your ways, sir; come.
Come along, sir; come.
You will not bail me, then, sir?
So you’re not going to bail me out, then, sir?
Then, Pompey, nor now. What news abroad, friar? what news?
Not now, Pompey, not ever. What’s the news, friar? Any news?
Come your ways, sir; come.
Come along, sir; come.
Go to kennel, Pompey; go.
Go to jail, Pompey; go.
What news, friar, of the duke?
What’s the news, friar, about the duke?
I know none. Can you tell me of any?
I don’t know anything. Can you tell me something?
Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: but where is he, think you?
Some say he’s with the Emperor of Russia; others say he’s in Rome: but where do you think he is?
I know not where; but wheresoever, I wish him well.
I don’t know where he is; but wherever he is, I wish him well.
It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to ’t.
It was a crazy, foolish thing for him to run away from the government, and take on a lowly life he was never meant for. Lord Angelo is doing a good job in his absence; he’s cracking down on crime.
He does well in ’t.
He’s doing well at it.
A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him: something too crabbed that way, friar.
A little more leniency toward lust wouldn’t hurt him: he’s a bit too harsh on that, friar.
It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.
It’s a very common flaw, and harsh measures must fix it.
Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied: but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and woman after this downright way of creation: is it true, think you?
Yes, truly, the flaw is from a noble family; it’s well connected: but it’s impossible to completely get rid of it, friar, until eating and drinking are stopped. They say Angelo wasn’t made by man and woman in the usual way: is that true, do you think?
How should he be made, then?
How else could he have been made, then?
Some report a sea-maid spawned him; some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion generative; that’s infallible.
Some say he was born from a sea creature; some say he was created between two fish. But it’s certain that when he urinates, his pee is frozen solid; I know that for sure: and he’s a source of creation; that’s guaranteed.
You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace.
You are quite amusing, sir, and speak quickly.
Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hanged a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand: he had some feeling of the sport: he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.
Why, what a heartless thing it is in him, to take a man’s life for the rebellion of a small thing like a codpiece! Would the duke who is gone have done this? Before he would have hanged a man for fathering a hundred illegitimate children, he would have paid to raise a thousand of them: he understood the fun of it: he knew the job, and that made him merciful.
I never heard the absent duke much detected for women; he was not inclined that way.
I never heard much about the absent duke being involved with women; he wasn’t really that way inclined.
O, sir, you are deceived.
Oh, sir, you’re mistaken.
’Tis not possible.
That can’t be true.
Who, not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; and his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish: the duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too; that let me inform you.
Who, not the duke? Yes, your poor man of fifty; and his thing was to put a ducat in her collection dish: the duke had his quirks. He would get drunk too; let me tell you that.
You do him wrong, surely.
You are wrong about him, for sure.
Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the duke: and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing.
Sir, I was a close associate of his. He was a quiet fellow: and I believe I know the reason for his withdrawal.
What, I prithee, might be the cause?
What, pray tell, might that reason be?
No, pardon; ’tis a secret must be locked within the teeth and the lips: but this I can let you understand, the greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise.
No, sorry; it’s a secret that must stay hidden between my teeth and lips: but I can tell you this, most people thought the duke was wise.
Wise! why, no question but he was.
Wise! Well, no doubt, he was.
A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow.
A very shallow, ignorant, careless man.
Either this is the envy in you, folly, or mistaking: the very stream of his life and the business he hath helmed must upon a warranted need give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings-forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman and a soldier. Therefore you speak unskilfully: or if your knowledge be more it is much darkened in your malice.
Either you’re envious, foolish, or mistaken: the very way he lives and the work he does should, when there’s a real need, earn him a better reputation. If he is only judged by his own actions, he will seem to the jealous like a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. So you’re speaking without skill: or if you know more, your malice has made it unclear.
Sir, I know him, and I love him.
Sir, I know him, and I love him.
Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love.
Love speaks with more understanding, and knowledge comes with a deeper love.
Come, sir, I know what I know.
Come on, sir, I know what I know.
I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return, as our prayers are he may, let me desire you to make your answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call upon you; and, I pray you, your name?
I can hardly believe that, since you don’t know what you’re talking about. But if the duke returns, as we hope he will, let me ask you to answer in front of him. If what you’ve said is honest, you’ll have the courage to stand by it: I have a duty to ask you; and, if you please, your name?
Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke.
Sir, my name is Lucio; well known to the duke.
He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you.
He’ll know you better, sir, if I have a chance to report on you.
I fear you not.
I’m not afraid of you.
O, you hope the duke will return no more; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But indeed I can do you little harm; you’ll forswear this again.
Oh, you think the duke won’t return, or you think I’m too harmless to be a threat. But really, I can do you little harm; you’ll deny this later.
I’ll be hanged first: thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow or no?
I’d rather be hanged first: you’re mistaken about me, friar. But enough of this. Can you tell me if Claudio is going to die tomorrow or not?
Why should he die, sir?
Why should he die, sir?
Why? For filling a bottle with a tundish. I would the duke we talk of were returned again: the ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with continency; sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light: would he were returned! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing. Farewell, good friar: I prithee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He’s not past it yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic: say that I said so. Farewell.
Why? Because he filled a bottle with a funnel. I wish the duke we’re talking about were back: the man without children will depopulate the province with chastity; sparrows can’t even build nests on his house’s eaves because they’re immoral. The duke would still want to handle dark deeds secretly; he’d never expose them: I wish he were back! But, anyway, this Claudio is condemned for untying his pants. Goodbye, good friar: please, pray for me. The duke, I tell you again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He’s not past it yet, and I say again, he’d even kiss a beggar, even if she smelled like stale bread and garlic: tell them I said that. Goodbye.
No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure ’scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue? But who comes here?
No power or greatness in human life can escape criticism; backstabbing slander strikes even the purest virtue. What king is strong enough to stop the poison of the slanderous tongue? But who is this?
Go; away with her to prison!
Go; take her away to prison!
Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man; good my lord.
Please, my lord, be kind to me; you’re known as a merciful man; please, my lord.
Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind! This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant.
Warnings again and again, and still the same mistake! This would make mercy turn into cruelty.
A bawd of eleven years’ continuance, may it please your honour.
A bawd for eleven years, if it pleases your honour.
My lord, this is one Lucio’s information against me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the duke’s time; he promised her marriage: his child is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob: I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me!
My lord, this is something Lucio reported about me. Mistress Kate Keepdown was pregnant by him during the duke’s time; he promised to marry her: their child is a year and a quarter old, named Philip and Jacob: I’ve been taking care of the child myself; and look how he tries to harm me!
That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be called before us. Away with her to prison! Go to; no more words.
That man is very reckless: let him be brought before us. Take her away to prison! Enough; no more talk.
Provost, my brother Angelo will not be altered; Claudio must die to-morrow: let him be furnished with divines, and have all charitable preparation. if my brother wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him.
Provost, my brother Angelo won’t change his mind; Claudio must die tomorrow: make sure he’s provided with priests, and given all the comfort possible. If my brother acted out of pity, things wouldn’t be this way for him.
So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death.
If it pleases you, this friar has been with him, and advised him to prepare for death.
Good even, good father.
Good evening, good father.
Bliss and goodness on you!
Blessings and goodness to you!
Of whence are you?
Where are you from?
Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time: I am a brother Of gracious order, late come from the See In special business from his holiness.
I’m not from this country, though I’m here now to serve my purpose: I am a member of a respected order, just arrived from the See on special business for his holiness.
What news abroad i’ the world?
What’s the news in the world?
None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it: novelty is only in request; and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure; but security enough to make fellowships accurst: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day’s news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke?
None, except that there’s such a strong fever on goodness that it must be cured by its own collapse: new ideas are the only thing people want; and it’s as dangerous to grow old in any cause as it is virtuous to be consistent in any effort. There’s barely enough truth left to make communities safe; but plenty of security to make groups cursed: much of the world’s wisdom is based on this puzzle. This news may be old, but it’s still the news of every day. I ask you, sir, what kind of man was the duke?
One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself.
One who, above all other concerns, was especially focused on understanding himself.
What pleasure was he given to?
What kind of pleasures did he enjoy?
Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at any thing which professed to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepared. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation.
He’s more happy seeing others cheerful than being cheerful himself about anything that’s supposed to make him happy: a man of complete self-control. But let’s leave him to his fate, hoping it turns out well; and let me ask how you find Claudio ready. I’ve been told that you’ve visited him.
He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice: yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life; which I by my good leisure have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die.
He claims that he hasn’t been treated unfairly by his judge, but humbly accepts whatever judgment is given. Still, he had convinced himself, because of his weakness, that he would live, and made many false promises to himself; I have disproved them during my time with him, and now he’s ready to die.
You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have laboured for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty: but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed Justice.
You’ve done your duty to God, and the prisoner has received the full weight of your role. I’ve done everything I can for the poor man, within the limits of my modesty. But my brother, Justice, has been so harsh that I had to tell him that he really is Justice.
If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.
If his life matches the strictness of his actions, then it will suit him. But if he fails, he has already condemned himself.
I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.
I’m going to visit the prisoner now. Goodbye.
Peace be with you!
Peace be with you!
He who the sword of heaven will bear Should be as holy as severe; Pattern in himself to know, Grace to stand, and virtue go; More nor less to others paying Than by self-offences weighing. Shame to him whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice and let his grow! O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! How may likeness made in crimes, Making practise on the times, To draw with idle spiders’ strings Most ponderous and substantial things! Craft against vice I must apply: With Angelo to-night shall lie His old betrothed but despised; So disguise shall, by the disguised, Pay with falsehood false exacting, And perform an old contracting.
He who carries the sword of heaven Should be as holy as he is harsh; A model to himself to understand, Grace to stand, and virtue to act; Giving no more to others than What he weighs by his own wrongs. Shame on him whose cruel actions Kill for faults he likes himself! Twice the shame on Angelo, To rid me of my sin and let his grow! Oh, what can a man hide inside, Though he appears angelic outside! How can a man with criminal intentions, Using the times to his advantage, Achieve great things with the tiniest threads Of a spider’s web! I must use trickery against vice: Tonight, Angelo will lie With his old fiancée, whom he rejected; And so, the disguise will be used by the disguised, To pay false debts with false actions, And fulfill an old promise.