Measure for Measure - Уильям Шекспир

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will demand of me why I do this.

        FRIAR. Gladly, my lord.

        DUKE. We have strict statutes and most biting laws,

          The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds,

          Which for this fourteen years we have let slip;

          Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave,

          That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers,

          Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch,

          Only to stick it in their children's sight

          For terror, not to use, in time the rod

          Becomes more mock'd than fear'd; so our decrees,

          Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead;

          And liberty plucks justice by the nose;

          The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart

          Goes all decorum.

        FRIAR. 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 th' ambush of my name, strike home,

          And yet my nature never in the fight

          To do in slander. And to behold his sway,

          I will, as 'twere a brother of your order,

          Visit both prince and people. Therefore, I prithee,

          Supply me with the habit, and instruct me

          How I may formally in person bear me

          Like a true friar. Moe reasons for this action

          At our more leisure shall I render you.

          Only, this one: Lord Angelo is precise;

          Stands at a guard with envy; scarce confesses

          That his blood flows, or that his appetite

          Is more to bread than stone. Hence shall we see,

          If power change purpose, what our seemers be. Exeunt

      SCENE IV. A nunnery

      Enter ISABELLA and FRANCISCA

        ISABELLA. And have you nuns no farther privileges?

        FRANCISCA. Are not these large enough?

        ISABELLA. Yes, truly; I speak not as desiring more,

          But rather wishing a more strict restraint

          Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.

        LUCIO. [ Within] Ho! Peace be in this place!

        ISABELLA. Who's that which calls?

        FRANCISCA. 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,

          Or, if you show your face, you must not speak.

          He calls again; I pray you answer him. Exit FRANCISCA

        ISABELLA. Peace and prosperity! Who is't that calls?

      Enter LUCIO

        LUCIO. Hail, virgin, if you be, as those cheek-roses

          Proclaim you are no less. Can you so stead me

          As bring me to the sight of Isabella,

          A novice of this place, and the fair sister

          To her unhappy brother Claudio?

        ISABELLA. 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.

        ISABELLA. Woe me! For what?

        LUCIO. For that which, if myself might be his judge,

          He should receive his punishment in thanks:

          He hath got his friend with child.

        ISABELLA. Sir, make me not your story.

        LUCIO. It is true.

          I would not- though 'tis my familiar sin

          With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest,

          Tongue far from heart- play with all virgins so:

          I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted,

          By your renouncement an immortal spirit,

          And to be talk'd with in sincerity,

          As with a saint.

        ISABELLA. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.

        LUCIO. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus:

          Your brother and his lover have embrac'd.

          As those that feed grow full, as blossoming time

          That from the seedness the bare fallow brings

          To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb

          Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.

        ISABELLA. Some one with child by him? My cousin Juliet?

        LUCIO. Is she your cousin?

        ISABELLA. Adoptedly, as school-maids change their names

          By vain though apt affection.

        LUCIO. She it is.

        ISABELLA. O, let him marry her!

        LUCIO. This is the point.

          The Duke is very strangely gone from hence;

          Bore many gentlemen, myself being one,

          In hand, and hope of action; but we do learn,

          By those that know the very nerves of state,

          His givings-out were of an infinite distance

          From his true-meant design. Upon his place,

          And with full line of his authority,

          Governs Lord Angelo, a man whose blood

          Is very snow-broth, one who never feels

          The wanton stings

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