restraint. Our natures do pursue,
    Like rats that ravin down their proper bane,
    A thirsty evil; and when we drink we die.
  LUCIO. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send
for
    certain of my creditors; and yet, to say the truth, I had as
lief
    have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment.
    What's thy offence, Claudio?
  CLAUDIO. What but to speak of would offend again.
  LUCIO. What, is't murder?
  CLAUDIO. No.
  LUCIO. Lechery?
  CLAUDIO. Call it so.
  PROVOST. Away, sir; you must go.
  CLAUDIO. One word, good friend. Lucio, a word with you.
  LUCIO. A hundred, if they'll do you any good. Is lechery so
look'd
    after?
  CLAUDIO. Thus stands it with me: upon a true contract
    I got possession of Julietta's bed.
    You know the lady; she is fast my wife,
    Save that we do the denunciation lack
    Of outward order; this we came not to,
    Only for propagation of a dow'r
    Remaining in the coffer of her friends.
    From whom we thought it meet to hide our love
    Till time had made them for us. But it chances
    The stealth of our most mutual entertainment,
    With character too gross, is writ on Juliet.
  LUCIO. With child, perhaps?
  CLAUDIO. Unhappily, even so.
    And the new deputy now for the Duke-
    Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness,
    Or whether that the body public be
    A horse whereon the governor doth ride,
    Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
    He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
    Whether the tyranny be in his place,
    Or in his eminence that fills it up,
    I stagger in. But this new governor
    Awakes me all the enrolled penalties
    Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by th' wall
    So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round
    And none of them been worn; and, for a name,
    Now puts the drowsy and neglected act
    Freshly on me. 'Tis surely for a name.
  LUCIO. I warrant it is; and thy head stands so tickle on thy
    shoulders that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it
off.
    Send after the Duke, and appeal to him.
  CLAUDIO. I have done so, but he's not to be found.
    I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service:
    This day my sister should the cloister enter,
    And there receive her approbation;
    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 prone and speechless dialect
    Such as move men; beside, she hath prosperous art
    When she will play with reason and discourse,
    And well she can persuade.
  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.
  CLAUDIO. I thank you, good friend Lucio.
  LUCIO. Within two hours.
  CLAUDIO. Come, officer, away. Exeunt

SCENE III. A monastery

Enter DUKE and FRIAR THOMAS

  DUKE. No, holy father; throw away that thought;
    Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
    Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee
    To give me secret harbour hath a purpose
    More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends
    Of burning youth.
  FRIAR. May your Grace speak of it?
  DUKE. My holy sir, none better knows than you
    How I have ever lov'd the life removed,
    And held in idle price to haunt assemblies
    Where youth, and cost, a witless bravery keeps.
    I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo,
    A man of stricture and firm abstinence,
    My absolute power and place here in Vienna,
    And he supposes me travell'd to Poland;
    For so I have strew'd it in the common ear,
    And so it is received. Now, pious sir,
    You 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,