Measure for Measure

No, but if you go on buying and selling men and women like beasts, everyone in the world will end up spawning bastards.

Oh, heavens! What nonsense is this?

Life’s become a lot less fun since the law took two crimes—prostitution and moneylending—and suppressed the one that was the most fun, while condoning the worse of the two. The thriving moneylender wraps himself in a warm fur coat, made of skins from the innocent lamb and trimmed in fur from the crafty fox, proving that craftiness is worth more than innocence.

Come along, sir. Bless you, good father friar.

And you, good brother father. How has this man offended you, sir?

Actually, sir, he has offended the law. And, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir, because we found on him, sir, a strange device for picking locks, which we have sent to the deputy.

(to POMPEY) Shame, sirrah! A pimp, a wicked pimp! You support yourself by doing evil. Do you ever stop to think what it is to stuff your mouth or clothe your back from such a filthy vice? Say to yourself, I eat, dress myself, and live off abominable, beastly sex. Can you believe your way of life is a life, when it’s dependent on such stinking acts? Change your ways, change your ways.

Yes, it does stink in a way, sir; but, sir, I would prove—

No, if the devil has given you excuses for sin, you’ll prove only that you belong to him. Take him to prison, officer. Punishment and religion must both be used on this crude beast before he improves.

He has to appear before the deputy, sir, who’s already given him a warning. The deputy can’t stand pimps, and if he is a pimp, and appears before him, he would be better off being anywhere but there.

If only we were all—as some of us seem to be—as free from sin as this pimp is from hypocrisy!

Like your waist, his neck will soon have a rope around it, sir.

I see help coming—and bail. Here’s a gentleman and a friend of mine.

Hey there, noble Pompey! Oh dear, are you being paraded like a prisoner-of-war after the victorious Caesar’s chariot? What, aren’t there any more girls just turned women who can be had for a handful of dollars? Ha, don’t you have any answers? How do you feel about the new regime? Puts quite a damper on things, right? What do you say, old man? Hasn’t the world changed? What’s your mood nowadays, a bit sad and silent? Or how? What’s the plan?

This is getting worse and worse.

How’s my sweetheart, your boss-lady? Is she still a madam?

Truthfully, sir, she’s worn out all her prostitutes, and is herself getting treated for an STD.

That’s right, that’s the way it goes: your fresh-faced whore ages into a heavily made-up madam. It’s unavoidable. Are you going to prison, Pompey?

I am indeed, sir.

Not a bad thing, Pompey. Goodbye. Go and say I sent you. For debt, Pompey? Or something else?

For being a pimp, for being a pimp.

Well, then, put him in jail: if imprisonment is the punishment for being a pimp, then he deserves it. He’s undoubtedly a pimp, and has been for a long time. Born a pimp. Goodbye, good Pompey. Give my regards to prison. You’ll be a good husband now, Pompey—you’ll never leave home.

I hope, sir, you’ll post bail for me.

No, I won’t, Pompey. It’s not in style now. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your sentence. Show an iron will while you’re in iron chains. Adieu, Pompey. God bless you, friar.

And you.

Does Bridget still get dolled up, Pompey, ha?

Come along, sir, come.

You won’t bail me out, then, sir?

Neither then, Pompey, nor now. What’s happening, friar? What’s the news?

Come along, sir, come.

Off to the doghouse, Pompey. Go.

Any news, friar, of the duke?

I don’t know anything. Can you tell me any news?

Some say he’s with the emperor of Russia. Others say that he’s in Rome. Where do you think he is?

I don’t know, but wherever he is, I wish him well.

It was a crazy whim of his to sneak away from the city and pretend to be the commoner he was never born to be. Lord Angelo runs things well in his absence—he’s hard on criminals.

He does a good job of it.

It wouldn’t hurt him to go a little easier on sex. There’s something too harsh in the way he’s handling that, friar.

It is too widespread a vice. It needs a severe cure.

Yes, to tell the truth, this is a vice a lot of people practice. But it’s impossible to stamp it out totally, friar. You’d have to stop people eating and drinking first. They say this Angelo wasn’t the result of a normal act between a man and woman. Do you think that’s true?

What was he the result of, then?

Some say a mermaid gave birth to him, some that he was conceived by two dried codfish. But it’s a fact that when he pees, his urine is congealed ice. That I know to be true. And he’s an impotent puppet—that’s certain.

You’re a funny guy, sir, and speak freely.

Well, what a cruel thing for him to do, to take a man’s life because his penis rose up! Would the absent duke have done something like this? Before he would’ve hanged a man for fathering a hundred bastards, he would’ve paid for nursing a thousand. He had some understanding of prostitution. He knew the game, and that made him merciful.

I never heard the absent duke accused of womanizing. He wasn’t inclined that way.

Oh, sir, you’re wrong.

That’s not possible.

Who, the duke? Yes, your fifty-year-old beggar-woman—he’d habitually make a deposit in her dish. The duke was a little kinky. He’d get drunk, too, let me tell you.

Surely, you’re being unfair to him.

Sir, I was a close friend of his. The duke was a shy fellow, and I believe I know the reason for his sudden departure.

What, please tell me, was the reason?

No, sorry. It’s a secret that must stay locked in my mouth. But this I can tell you: the majority of his subjects thought the duke a wise man.

Wise! Well, there’s no doubt that he was.

A very superficial, ignorant, thoughtless fellow.

You’re either jealous, mad, or mistaken. The way he conducts his life and his role as a ruler by themselves must earn him a better reputation. Judge him by his public actions and even the envious would see him as a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. So, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Or, if you do, you’re spitefully trying to tarnish his name.

Sir, I know him, and I love him.

If you loved him you would know him better, and if you knew him better you would love him more.

Look, sir, I know what I know.

I can hardly believe that, since you don’t know what you’re talking about. But, if the duke ever returns, as we pray he will, I challenge you to justify your comments in front of him. If you’ve spoken the truth, you should have the courage to defend it. It’s my duty to summon you to testify. May I ask your name?

Sir, my name is Lucio, and it’s well known to the duke.

He’ll know you even better, sir, if I live to report you.

I’m not afraid of you.

Oh, you hope the duke will never come back, or you think I’m too weak an enemy. But I really can do you a little harm—you’ll end up denying this.

I’ll be hanged first. You’re wrong about me, friar. But forget all this. Can you tell me if Claudio is to die tomorrow or not?

Why should he die, sir?

Why? For plugging a hole. I wish the duke were back again. His sexless deputy’s abstinence policy will depopulate the province. Even sparrows can’t nest on his roof, because they’re lecherous! The duke would have punished sexual acts privately—he’d never publicly expose them. I wish he were back! Claudio is condemned for getting undressed. Goodbye, good friar. Please pray for me. I tell you again, the duke was no choir boy—he would eat mutton on Fridays. He’s not past it yet, and I tell you, he’d French-kiss a beggar, even if she smelled of moldy bread and garlic. Say that I said so. Goodbye.

Neither political power nor noble character can escape criticism; even the most virtuous person can be stabbed in the back by slurs. What king is so strong he can bottle up the poison of a slandering tongue? But who’s coming now?

Go on, take her to prison!

My good lord, be good to me. Your honor is said to be that of a merciful man, my good lord.

You’ve been warned two, three times, and you’re still committing the same crime! This is enough to turn mercy itself into a cursing tyrant.

A madam for eleven years, your honor.

My lord, this is Lucio’s accusation against me. He got Miss Kate Keepdown pregnant, back in the days when the duke was still here, and he promised to marry her. Now his child will be fifteen months old on May Day. I kept the kid myself, and now see how he goes out of his way to abuse me!

That fellow is a dangerous fellow. Bring him before me. Take her away to prison! No more talking.

Provost, my colleague Angelo won’t change his mind—Claudio must die tomorrow. Furnish him with priests, to give him spiritual consolation. If my colleague possessed my sense of pity, this wouldn’t be happening.

This friar’s been with him, and helped him prepare for death.

Good evening, good father.

Bliss and goodness to you!

Where are you from?

Not from this country, though I happen to be here for the time being. I belong to a holy brotherhood, and have just come from Rome, on special business from the Vatican.

What’s the news from abroad?

None, except that goodness is so sick that only death can cure it. People only want the latest thing, and it’s as dangerous to be faithful as it is virtuous to be promiscuous. There’s barely enough honesty left for it to be safe to get involved with people, but there’s enough blind trust to doom partnerships. The wisdom of the world runs on paradoxes like this. It’s old news, but everyday news. Tell me, sir, what sort of man was the duke?

Someone who, above everything else, truly wanted to know himself.

What sort of things did he enjoy?

He enjoyed seeing someone else happy more than doing something that made himself happy—an even-tempered man. But let’s leave him to his affairs, with a prayer that they’ll be prosperous, and tell me how Claudio is. I understand you’ve visited him.

He claims to have received no unfair treatment from his judge, but willingly yields to the law’s verdict. Out of human weakness, he’d formed many deceptive hopes about a reprieve. But gradually I showed him these made no sense, and now he is ready to die.

You have fulfilled your duty to both God and the prisoner. I pleaded for the poor man as much as I could, without giving offense, but my fellow judge is so severe, I swear, he’s like Justice itself.

If his own behavior matches the strictness of his judgments, it’s to his credit. But if he slips, he’s written his own sentence.

I’m going to visit the prisoner. Goodbye.

Peace be with you!

(to himself) He who wants to be a ruler and enact heaven’s justice should be as holy as he is severe. He should find in himself a model of proper conduct, the grace to stand firm, and the strength to go forward, punishing others no more or less than he’d punish his own sins. Shame on him who cruelly strikes and kills others for the very faults he possesses! Shame on Angelo six times over, for weeding out my vice while nurturing his own! Oh, what evil an angelic-looking man can hide in himself! How this seemingly virtuous behavior, born out of sin, can deceive everyone! It’s like a spider web that traps small sins like small insects, but breaks when anything large and heavy touches it. I must combat vice with cunning. Tonight Angelo will sleep with his rejected, former fiancée. By deceit, the deceiver will be forced to pay for his wrongful demands, and fulfill his old contract.