MEASURE FOR MEASURE. William Shakespeare
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As like almost to Claudio as himself.
[Unmuffles CLAUDIO.]
DUKE.
If he be like your brother [to ISABELLA], 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 quick’ning 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.—
You, sirrah [to Lucio], that knew me for a fool, a coward,
One all of luxury, an ass, a madman;
Wherein have I so deserved of you
That you extol me thus?
LUCIO. Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according 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 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 recompense 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.—
[Exeunt Officers with LUCIO.]
She, Claudio, that you wrong’d, look you restore.—
Joy to you, Mariana!—Love her, Angelo;
I have confess’d her, and I know her virtue.—
Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness
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.]
THE END
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