Measure for Measure

Come here, you. Can you cut off a man’s head?

If the man’s a bachelor, sir, I can. But if he’s a married man, he’s also his wife’s head, and I can never cut off a woman’s head.

Come on, sir, spare me your jokes and give me a straight answer. Claudio and Barnardine are to die tomorrow morning. Here in our prison we have a public executioner, who needs a helper. If you’ll take on the job of assisting him, it’ll free you from your chains. If you don’t, you’ll have to serve your full sentence, with a fierce whipping before you’re released because you’ve been a notorious pimp.

Sir, I’ve been an illegal pimp for longer than I can remember, but I’ll be happy to be a legal hangman. I’d be glad for my new partner to teach me.

Hey, Abhorson! Where are you, Abhorson?

Did you call, sir?

Here’s a fellow to help you with tomorrow’s executions. If he works out, settle on an annual salary and let him stay here with you. If he doesn’t, use him just for now and then fire him. He can’t claim to be too good for the work since he’s been a pimp.

A pimp, sir? To hell with him! He’ll discredit our profession.

Go on, sir. You two are worth the same. No more than a featherweight’s difference, anyway.

Sir, would you please—for you do have a pleasing face, except for your hanging expression—tell me if you call your job a profession?

Yes, sir, a profession.

I’ve heard it said that painting, sir, is a profession, and since whores—who are in my field—paint their faces, they prove my occupation is a profession. But I’ll be hanged if I can imagine how hanging is a profession.

Sir, it is a profession.

Can you prove it?

A thief steals and puts on the clothes of an honest man. If the thief thinks the clothes don’t make him seem honest enough, a truly honest man will think that’s appropriate. If the thief thinks the clothes make him seem extra honest, then the thief thinks the disguise fits just right. So someone is always happy with the way the disguise works for the thief.

Have you reached an agreement?

Sir, I’ll work for him, because I think a hangman’s job is a sorrier one than a pimp’s—he asks forgiveness more often.

You, fellow, have your block and your axe ready tomorrow at four o’clock.

Come on, pimp, I’ll show you the ropes. Follow me.

I want to learn, sir. And I hope, if you ever get the chance to use me for your own execution, you’ll find me ready. Because, really, I owe you a good turn for your kindness.

Call Barnardine and Claudio here. I pity one, but not the other, even if he were my brother, as he’s a murderer.

Look, Claudio, here’s your death warrant. It’s now dead midnight, and by 8 a.m. tomorrow you must be laid to eternal rest. Where’s Barnardine?

As fast asleep as the most innocent of exhausted laborers. He won’t wake up.

Who could do him any good, anyway? Well, go, prepare yourself.

What’s that noise? (to Claudio) Heaven give your spirits comfort!

In a minute. I hope it’s some pardon or reprieve for gentle Claudio.

Welcome, father.

The best, most wholesome night spirits surround you, good Provost! Who’s been here lately?

No one, since the curfew bell rang.

Not Isabel?

No.

Someone will be, then, before long.

Is there any news to give comfort to Claudio?

There’s comfort in hope.

Angelo’s a cruel deputy.

No, no. His life parallels the same straight line that his mighty justice draws. With religious restraint, he suppresses in himself the same impulses he persecutes in others. If he were stained with the sort of sins he punishes, then he’d be a tyrant. But because he’s virtuous, he’s fair.

They’re here.

This provost is a nice man. It’s rare that a hardened jailer has sympathy for his fellow men.

What is that noise? That messenger’s so impatient he’s going to hurt that poor door with his knocking.

He’s stuck there until the officer at the gate wakes up to let him in. The officer’s up now.

Haven’t you received any order yet countermanding Claudio’s execution tomorrow?

None, sir, none.

Even though it’s almost dawn, provost, you’ll have news before morning.

Perhaps you know something. But I don’t think any reprieve is coming. There’s no precedent for it. Besides, Lord Angelo declared the opposite, in public, from the judge’s bench.

This is his lordship’s servant.

And here comes Claudio’s pardon.

(presenting a paper) My lord has sent you this note, and charged me to tell you not to swerve from the smallest item in it—not the time, details, or anything else. Good morning, since I gather it’s almost morning.

I will obey him.

(to himself) This is his pardon, bought by the same sin Angelo committed. Crimes spread quickly when those in power perpetrate them as well. When evildoers extend mercy, they widen mercy’s grasp, pardoning other sinners because they love the sin. Now, sir, what’s the news?

I told you. Lord Angelo, thinking me careless in my duties maybe, is putting unusual pressure on me. It’s strange—he’s never done this before.

Please, let’s hear the letter.

(reads) “Whatever you may hear to the contrary, have

Claudio executed by four o’clock, and Barnardine in the afternoon. Reassure me by sending me Claudio’s head by five o’clock. Be sure you do it, and be aware that more depends on it than I can reveal at this time. Don’t fail to do your duty, or you will be held accountable.” What do you say to this, sir?

Who is this Barnardine who’s to be executed in the afternoon?

He was born in Bohemia, but raised here. He’s been a prisoner for the last nine years.

How did it happen that the absent duke neither freed him nor executed him? I’ve heard he usually does one or the other.

Barnardine’s friends kept getting him reprieves. And there was no clear evidence that he was actually guilty, until now, when Angelo came to power.

It’s clear now?

Very clear, and he doesn’t deny it himself.

Has he shown remorse while in prison? What effect has it had on him?

He’s a man who fears death as no worse than a drunken sleep. He’s careless, reckless, and fearless of the past, present, or future. He’s unaware of the concept of death, and desperately clinging to life.

He needs counseling.

He won’t listen to any. He’s always had the freedom to go anywhere inside the prison. If you gave him a chance to escape, he wouldn’t run. He’s drunk many times a day, or spends many days entirely drunk. Often, we’ve woken him up, as if to take him to be executed, and shown him a pretend warrant. It’s never affected him at all.

More of him soon. Provost, I see honesty and loyalty in your face. If I’m wrong, my old skill at reading people deceives me, but because I’m confident of my ability, I’ll take a chance. Claudio, whom you have a warrant to execute, deserves to die no more than Angelo, who sentenced him. I can clearly demonstrate this, but I need four days, so I’m going to ask you to do me an immediate and dangerous favor.

What is it, sir?

Delay the death.

Sorry, but how can I, with the time fixed and an explicit command to deliver his head to Angelo, at risk of penalty? I’ll find myself in Claudio’s shoes if I swerve from this in even the smallest way.

By my holy vows, I guarantee your safety if you follow my instructions. Execute this Barnardine this morning, and take his head to Angelo.

Angelo’s seen both of them, and will recognize the face.

Oh, death’s a great disguiser, and you can help disguise him more. Shave his head and trim his beard, and say it was the prisoner’s request to be shaved before his death. You know that’s a common thing. If anything happens to you because of this—aside from thanks and good fortune —by the patron saint of my brotherhood, I’ll plead against it with my life.

Forgive me, good father. It’s against my oath.

Did you swear allegiance to the duke, or to the deputy?

To him, and to his representatives.

Will you think you’ve done nothing wrong if the duke vouches for the justice of your action?

But how likely is that?

Not a possibility, but a certainty. Yet since I see you’re afraid, that neither my religious robes, integrity, nor arguments can easily persuade you, I’ll go farther than I meant to, to dispel all your fears. (displays a letter) Look, sir, here’s the duke’s handwriting and seal. You recognize them both, I’m sure.

I know them both.

This letter’s contents describe the duke’s return; you can read it over at your leisure, and you’ll learn that he’ll be here in two days. Angelo doesn’t know this, since today he’ll be getting some letters with strange news, maybe about the duke’s death, maybe about him entering some monastery—but nothing about what’s written here. Look, the morning star is out. Don’t be confused by all this. Everything makes sense after it’s been done. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine’s head. I’ll give him confession, and prepare him for a better place. You’re still stunned, but this absolutely will explain everything to you. Let’s go, it’s almost dawn.