Chapter: ACT III. SCENE I.


_A room in the prison._

  _Enter DUKE disguised as before, CLAUDIO, and PROVOST._

_Duke._ So, then, you hope of pardon from Lord Angelo?

_Claud._ The miserable have no other medicine
But only hope:
I've hope to live, and am prepar'd to die.

_Duke._ Be absolute for death; either death or life                  5
Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life:
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep: a breath thou art,
Servile to all the skyey influences.
That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st,                      10
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool;
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun,
And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble;
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st
Are nursed by baseness. Thou'rt by no means valiant;                15
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provokest; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains                         20
That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;
For what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get.
And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain;
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou'rt poor;                     25
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins,                              30
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor age.
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,
Dreaming on both; for all thy blessed youth
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms                              35
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich,
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty,
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this
That bears the name of life? Yet in this life
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear,                    40
That makes these odds all even.

_Claud._                      I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find I seek to die;
And, seeking death, find life: let it come on.

_Isab._ [_within_] What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company!

_Prov._ Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome.          45

_Duke._ Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.

_Claud._ Most holy sir, I thank you.

  _Enter ISABELLA._

_Isab._ My business is a word or two with Claudio.

_Prov._ And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your
sister.                                                             50

_Duke._ Provost, a word with you.

_Prov._ As many as you please.

_Duke._ Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be
concealed.    [_Exeunt Duke and Provost._

_Claud._ Now, sister, what's the comfort?                           55

_Isab._ Why,
As all comforts are; most good, most good indeed.
Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven,
Intends you for his swift ambassador,
Where you shall be an everlasting leiger:                           60
Therefore your best appointment make with speed;
To-morrow you set on.

_Claud._            Is there no remedy?

_Isab._ None, but such remedy as, to save a head,
To cleave a heart in twain.

_Claud._                  But is there any?

_Isab._ Yes, brother, you may live:                                 65
There is a devilish mercy in the judge,
If you'll implore it, that will free your life,
But fetter you till death.

_Claud._                 Perpetual durance?

_Isab._ Ay, just; perpetual durance, a restraint,
Though all the world's vastidity you had,                           70
To a determined scope.

_Claud._             But in what nature?

_Isab._ In such a one as, you consenting to't,
Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear,
And leave you naked.

_Claud._           Let me know the point.

_Isab._ O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake,                    75
Lest thou a feverous life shouldst entertain,
And six or seven winters more respect
Than a perpetual honour. Darest thou die?
The sense of death is most in apprehension;                         75
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

_Claud._            Why give you me this shame?
Think you I can a resolution fetch
From flowery tenderness? If I must die,                             80
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it in mine arms.

_Isab._ There spake my brother; there my father's grave
Did utter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die:
Thou art too noble to conserve a life                               85
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew
As falcon doth the fowl, is yet a devil;
His filth within being cast, he would appear                        90
A pond as deep as hell.

_Claud._              The prenzie Angelo!

_Isab._ O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell,
The damned'st body to invest and cover
In prenzie guards! Dost thou think, Claudio?--
If I would yield him my virginity,                                  95
Thou mightst be freed.

_Claud._             O heavens! it cannot be.

_Isab._ Yes, he would give't thee, from this rank offence,
So to offend him still. This night's the time
That I should do what I abhor to name,
Or else thou diest to-morrow.

_Claud._                    Thou shalt not do't.                   100

_Isab._ O, were it but my life,
I'ld throw it down for your deliverance
As frankly as a pin.

_Claud._           Thanks, dear Isabel.

_Isab._ Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.

_Claud._ Yes. Has he affections in him,                            105
That thus can make him bite the law by the nose,
When he would force it? Sure, it is no sin;
Or of the deadly seven it is the least.

_Isab._ Which is the least?

_Claud._ If it were damnable, he being so wise,                    110
Why would he for the momentary trick
Be perdurably fined?--O Isabel!

_Isab._ What says my brother?

_Claud._                    Death is a fearful thing.

_Isab._ And shamed life a hateful.

_Claud._ Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;                 115
To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;
This sensible warm motion to become
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice;                           120
To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst
Of those that lawless and incertain thought
Imagine howling:--'tis too horrible!                               125
The weariest and most loathed worldly life
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment
Can lay on nature is a paradise
To what we fear of death.

_Isab._ Alas, alas!

_Claud._          Sweet sister, let me live:                       130
What sin you do to save a brother's life,
Nature dispenses with the deed so far
That it becomes a virtue.

_Isab._                 O you beast!
O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!
Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?                            135
Is't not a kind of incest, to take life
From thine own sister's shame? What should I think?
Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair!
For such a warped slip of wilderness
Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance!                     140
Die, perish! Might but my bending down
Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed:
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death,
No word to save thee.

_Claud._ Nay, hear me, Isabel.

_Isab._                      O, fie, fie, fie!                     145
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade.
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd:
'Tis best that thou diest quickly.

_Claud._                         O, hear me, Isabella!

  _Re-enter DUKE._

_Duke._ Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.

_Isab._ What is your will?                                         150

_Duke._ Might you dispense with your leisure, I would
by and by have some speech with you: the satisfaction I
would require is likewise your own benefit.

_Isab._ I have no superfluous leisure; my stay must be
stolen out of other affairs; but I will attend you awhile.         155
                                        [_Walks apart._

_Duke._ Son, I have overheard what hath passed between
you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose
to corrupt her; only he hath made an assay of her virtue
to practise his judgement with the disposition of natures:
she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that         160
gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. I am
confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true; therefore
prepare yourself to death: do not satisfy your resolution
with hopes that are fallible: to-morrow you must die; go
to your knees, and make ready.                                     165

_Claud._ Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of
love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.

_Duke._ Hold you there: farewell. [_Exit Claudio._] Provost,
a word with you!

  _Re-enter PROVOST._

_Prov._ What's your will, father?                                  170

_Duke._ That now you are come, you will be gone.
Leave me awhile with the maid: my mind promises with
my habit no loss shall touch her by my company.

_Prov._ In good time.    [_Exit Provost. Isabella comes forward._

_Duke._ The hand that hath made you fair hath made                 175
you good: the goodness that is cheap in beauty makes
beauty brief in goodness; but grace, being the soul of your
complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault
that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath conveyed to
my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for          180
his falling, I should wonder at Angelo. How will you do
to content this substitute, and to save your brother?

_Isab._ I am now going to resolve him: I had rather my
brother die by the law than my son should be unlawfully
born. But, O, how much is the good Duke deceived in                185
Angelo! If ever he return and I can speak to him, I will
open my lips in vain, or discover his government.

_Duke._ That shall not be much amiss: yet, as the matter
now stands, he will avoid your accusation; he made trial
of you only. Therefore fasten your ear on my advisings: to         190
the love I have in doing good a remedy presents itself. I
do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously
do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your
brother from the angry law; do no stain to your own gracious
person; and much please the absent Duke, if peradventure           195
he shall ever return to have hearing of this business.

_Isab._ Let me hear you speak farther. I have spirit to
do any thing that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.

_Duke._ Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have
you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick the        200
great soldier who miscarried at sea?

_Isab._ I have heard of the lady, and good words went
with her name.

_Duke._ She should this Angelo have married; was affianced
to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed: between                 205
which time of the contract and limit of the solemnity, her
brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished
vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily
this befell to the poor gentlewoman: there she lost a noble
and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most             210
kind and natural; with him, the portion and sinew of her
fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate
husband, this well-seeming Angelo.

_Isab._ Can this be so? did Angelo so leave her?

_Duke._ Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them           215
with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in
her discoveries of dishonour: in few, bestowed her on her
own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he,
a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not.

_Isab._ What a merit were it in death to take this poor            220
maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it
will let this man live! But how out of this can she avail?

_Duke._ It is a rupture that you may easily heal: and
the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you
from dishonour in doing it.                                        225

_Isab._ Show me how, good father.

_Duke._ This forenamed maid hath yet in her the continuance
of her first affection: his unjust unkindness, that in all
reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment
in the current, made it more violent and unruly.                   230
Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible
obedience; agree with his demands to the point; only refer
yourself to this advantage, first, that your stay with him
may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and
silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. This           235
being granted in course,--and now follows all,--we shall
advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go
in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter,
it may compel him to her recompense: and here, by
this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor       240
Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt Deputy scaled. The
maid will I frame and make fit for his attempt. If you
think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of
the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think
you of it?                                                         245

_Isab._ The image of it gives me content already; and I
trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.

_Duke._ It lies much in your holding up. Haste you
speedily to Angelo: if for this night he entreat you to his
bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to         250
Saint Luke's: there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected
Mariana. At that place call upon me; and dispatch
with Angelo, that it may be quickly.

_Isab._ I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well,
good father.

    [_Exeunt severally._                                           255


  NOTES: III, 1.

  1: _of_] _for_ Hanmer.
  4: _I've_] _I'have_ Ff.
  5: _either_] _or_ Pope.
  8: _keep_] _reck_ Warburton. _thou art_] om. Hanmer.
  10: _dost_] Ff. _do_ Hanmer.
  20: _exist'st_] Theobald. _exists_ Ff.
  24: _effects_] _affects_ Johnson conj.
  25: _If_] _Though_ Hanmer.
  28: _unloads_] _unloadeth_ Pope.
  29: _sire_] F4. _fire_ F1 F2 F3. See note (XIII).
  31: _serpigo_] Rowe. _sapego_ F1. _sarpego_ F2 F3 F4.
  34: _all thy blessed_] _pall'd, thy blazed_ Warburton.
    _all thy blasted_ Johnson conj. _all thy boasted_ Collier MS.
  35: _as aged_] _an indigent_ Hanmer. _assuaged_ Warburton.
    _assieged_ Becket conj. _engaged_ Staunton conj.
    _enaged_ Grant White conj. _abased_ Edd. conj.
  37: _beauty_] _bounty_ Warburton.
  38: _yet_] om. Pope.
  40: _more_] _moe_ Ff. _a_ Hanmer.
  46: _sir_] _son_ Mason conj.
  49: _Look_] om. Pope.
  53: _Bring me to hear them speak_] Malone (Steevens conj.).
    _Bring them to hear me speak_ F1. _Bring them to speak_ F2 F3 F4.
    _Bring me to stand_ Capell.
  54: _concealed_] _conceal'd_ F1. _conceal'd, yet hear them_ F2 F3 F4.
    _conceal'd, yet hear them speak_ Capell. _Bring me where I
    conceal'd May hear them speak_ Davenant's version.
  55: SCENE II. Pope.
    _sister_] _good sister_ Hanmer.
  57: _most good, most good indeed_] _most good indeed_ Pope.
    _most good in speed_ Hanmer. _most good. Indeed_ Blackstone conj.
    See note (XIV).
  60: _leiger_] _ledger_ Capell. _lieger_ Staunton.
  62: _set on_] _set out_ Pope.
  64: _To_] _Must_ Hanmer.
  70: _Though_] Pope. _Through_ Ff.
  79: _can a resolution fetch_] _want a resolution fetch'd_ Hanmer.
  80: _tenderness?_] _tenderness._ Dyce (Heath conj.).
  86: _appliances_] _appliance_ Hanmer.
  88: _head_] _bred_ Grey conj.
  89: _falcon_] _falconer_ Grey conj.
  90, 91: _filth ... pond_] _pond ... filth_ Upton conj.
  91, 94: _prenzie_] F1. _princely_ F2 F3 F4. _priestly_ Hanmer.
    _precise_ Knight (Tieck conj.). _rev'rend_ Staunton.
    _saintly_ Hickson conj. _pensive_ Anon. (N. & Q.) conj.
    _frenzy!--princely_ Knight conj. _printsy_ Taylor conj.
    _pious_ Delius conj. _phrenzied_ Anon. (N. & Q.) conj.
    _primsie_ Anon. (N. & Q.) conj. _pensie_ Bullock conj.
    See note (XV).
  93: _damned'st_] _damnest_ F1.
  94: _guards_] _garb_ Collier MS.
  97: _give't_] _grant_ Hanmer. _give_ Warburton.
    _from_] _for_ Hanmer.
  103: _dear_] _dearest_ Pope.
  105: _he_] _he then_ Hanmer.
  111: _Why_] _Why,_ Hanmer.
  118: _delighted_] _dilated_ Hanmer. _benighted_ (Anon. conj.
    ap. Johnson). _delinquent_ Upton conj. _alighted_ Anon. conj.
    _delated_ Anon. conj. in Fras. Mag. See note (XVI).
  119: _reside_] _recide_ F1 (and 249).
  120: _region_] _regions_ Rowe.
  124, 125: _those that ... thought Imagine_] _those, that ... thought,
    Imagine_ Ff. _... thoughts ..._ Theobald. _those--that ...
    thought--Imagine_ Hanmer. _those whom ... thought Imagines_
    Heath conj. (after Davenant).
  127: _penury_] F2 F3 F4. _periury_ F1.
    _and_] om. Pope.
  138: _shield_] F1. _shield:_ F2 F3 F4. _grant_ Pope.
  141: _but my_] _my only_ Pope.
  145: _Nay_] om. Pope.
  148: [Going. Capell.
  149: SCENE III. Pope.
    Re-enter Duke] Capell. Duke steps in. F2. om. F1.
    Enter Duke and Provost. Rowe.
  155: [Walks apart] Capell.
  163: _satisfy_] _falsify_ Hanmer.
  168: [Exit C.] Exit. F2, after line 167, om. F1. See note (XVII).
  174: Exit ... forward] Edd. [Exit. F2 om. F1.
  176: _cheap_] _chief_ Collier MS.
  177: _in goodness_] _in such goodness_ Hanmer.
  179: _to you_] _on you_ Hanmer.
  183: _him:_] _him,_ Dyce.
  190, 191: _advisings: ... good_] Pope. _advisings,... good;_ Ff.
  192: _uprighteously_] _uprightly_ Pope.
  197: _farther_] _, father_ F4.
  204: _She_] _Her_ Pope.
    _was_] _he was_ Hanmer.
  205: _by_] om. F1.
    _and_] om. F4.
  217: _few_] F1 F2. _few words_ F3 F4.
    _her on_] _on her_ Capell conj.
  219: _a marble_] _as marble_ Anon. conj.
    _tears_] F1. _ears_ F2 F3 F4.
  228: _unkindness_] _kindness_ Pope.
  236: _granted in course,--and now_] _granted incourse, and now_ Ff.
    _granted, in course now_ Pope.
  241: _scaled_] _foiled_ Grant White.
  244: _from_] _and_ Rowe.
  255: [Exeunt severally] [Exit Ff.

 The scene opens in Claudio's prison cell, where the Duke is still traipsing around pretending to be a friar. Claudio says he's prepared to die, but he still has hope that he might get to live. The Duke attempts to comfort Claudio while preparing him for the possibility of death. Claudio finally says he's ready for whatever happens. Isabella arrives. The Duke spies on the brother and sister while Isabella reveals that Angelo has propositioned her. At first, Claudio agrees that Isabella should not sleep with Angelo to save his life. Isabella says she's so grossed out that she can't even "name" the thing that Angelo wants. Isabella declares that she would gladly sacrifice her life to save her brother. Claudio gets to thinking about things and decides that death is pretty scary. "Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; / To lie in cold obstruction and to rot," he muses. Isabella cries "Alas, alas!" We interrupt this program for a brain snack: We've seen plenty of great stage productions of this intense scene between Isabella and Claudio, but our favorite interpretation of this intense moment is artist William Holman Hunt's painting "Claudio and Isabella" . Claudio begs "Sweet sister, let me live," and Isabella screams "O, you beast! / O faithless coward, O dishonest wretch!" and so forth. Isabella says she can't wait until he dies . Claudio continues to beg, but Isabella refuses to listen. The Duke, who has been spying the whole time, steps in. He takes Claudio aside and tells him a fib. He says that Angelo didn't really mean it when he asked Isabella to sleep with him. Angelo was just testing her virtue, which means Claudio should prepare himself for death. Claudio feels like a jerk for having asked his sister to, you know, prostitute herself for him and says, "Yeah, I'm kind of sick of life at the moment. Dying doesn't sound so bad anymore." Alone with Isabella, the Duke cooks up a scheme to make everybody happy. He tells her about Mariana, a woman Angelo was supposed to marry a while back. When she lost her brother and a good part of her fortune in a shipwreck , Angelo walked out on her. But the wronged Mariana is still carrying a torch for him. So...Isabella should tell Angelo that she'll spend the night with him. Then, instead of meeting Angelo, Isabella will send Mariana in her place. It'll be dark so Angelo won't know that he's not getting it on with Isabella and he'll have to set Claudio free. And there's a bonus, the Duke says: If, later, Angelo finds out it was Mariana he slept with, he'll be compelled to marry her and she'll be happy, too. Everybody wins! He asks Isabella what she thinks of the plan. She doesn't have to sleep with the creep and her brother can live? Obviously, she loves it. She thanks the Friar-Duke and runs off to tell Angelo that she wants to save her brother's life. Note: In some editions of Measure for Measure , the action of the play continues in this scene. In most versions, like the Riverside Shakespeare , the action picks up in Act 3, Scene 2.

