Tales from Shakespeare by Charles and Mary Lamb (epub ebook reader .TXT) 📖

Angelo suffered more that night than the prisoner he had so severely sentenced; for in the prison Claudio was visited by the good duke, who, in his friar’s habit, taught the young man the way to heaven, preaching to him the words of penitence and peace. But Angelo felt all the pangs of irresolute guilt: now wishing to seduce Isabel from the paths of innocence and honour, and now suffering remorse and horror for a crime as yet but intentional. But in the end his evil thoughts prevailed; and he who had so lately started at the offer of a bribe, resolved to tempt this maiden with so high a bribe, as she might not be able to resist, even with the precious gift of her dear brother’s life.

When Isabel came in the morning, Angelo desired she might be admitted alone to his presence: and being there, he said to her, if she would yield to him her virgin honour and transgress even as Juliet had done with Claudio, he would give her her brother’s life; ‘For,’ said he, ‘I love you, Isabel.’ ‘My brother,’ said Isabel, ‘did so love Juliet, and yet you tell me he shall die for it.’ ‘But,’ said Angelo, ‘Claudio shall not die, if you will consent to visit me by stealth at night, even as Juliet left her father’s house at night to come to Claudio.’ Isabel, in amazement at his words, that he should tempt her to the same fault for which he passed sentence upon her brother, said: ‘I would do as much for my poor brother as for myself; that is, were I under sentence of death, the impression of keen whips I would wear as rubies, and go to my death as to a bed that longing I had been sick for, ere I would yield myself up to this shame.’ And then she told him, she hoped he only spoke these words to try her virtue. But he said: ‘Believe me, on my honour, my words express my purpose.’ Isabel, angered to the heart to hear him use the word Honour to express such dishonourable purposes, said: ‘Ha! little honour to be much believed; and most pernicious purpose. I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look for it! Sign me a present pardon for my brother, or I will tell the world aloud what man thou art!’ ‘Who will believe you, Isabel?’ said Angelo; ‘my unsoiled name, the austereness of my life, my word vouched against yours, will outweigh your accusation. Redeem your brother by yielding to my will, or he shall die to-morrow. As for you, say what you can, my false will overweigh your true story. Answer me to-morrow.’

‘To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, who would believe me?’

said Isabel, as she went towards the dreary prison where her brother was confined. When she arrived there, her brother was in pious conversation with the duke, who in his friar’s habit had also visited Juliet, and brought both these guilty lovers to a proper sense of their fault; and unhappy Juliet with tears and a true remorse confessed that she was more to blame than Claudio, in that she willingly consented to his dishonourable solicitations.

As Isabel entered the room where Claudio was confined, she said: ‘Peace be here, grace, and good company!’ ‘Who is there?’ said the disguised duke; ‘come in; the wish deserves a welcome.’ ‘My business as a word or two with Claudio,’ said Isabel. Then the duke left them together, and desired the provost, who had the charge of the prisoners, to place him where he might overhear their conversation.

‘Now, sister, what is the comfort?’ said Claudio. Isabel told him he must prepare for death on the morrow. ‘Is there no remedy?’ said Claudio. ‘Yes, brother,’ replied Isabel, ‘there is, but such a one, as if you consented to it would strip your honour from you, and leave you naked.’ ‘Let me know the point,’ said Claudio. ‘O, I do fear you, Claudio!’ replied his sister; ‘and I quake, lest you should wish to live, and more respect the trifling term of six or seven winters added to your life, then your perpetual honour! Do you dare to die? The sense of death is most in apprehension, and the poor beetle that we tread upon, feels a pang as great as when a giant dies.’ ‘Why do you give me this shame?’ said Claudio. ‘Think you I can fetch a resolution from flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, and hug it in my arms.’ ‘There spoke my brother,’ said Isabel; ‘there my father’s grave did utter forth a voice. Yes, you must die; yet would you think it, Claudio! this outward sainted deputy, if I would yield to him my virgin honour, would grant your life. O, were it but my life, I would lay it down for your deliverance as frankly as a pin!’ ‘Thanks, dear Isabel,’ said Claudio. ‘Be ready to die to-morrow,’ said Isabel.

‘Death is a fearful thing,’ said Claudio. ‘And shamed life a hateful,’

replied his sister. But the thoughts of death now overcame the constancy of Claudio’s temper, and terrors, such as the guilty only at their deaths do know, assailing him, he cried out: ‘Sweet sister, let me live! The sin you do to save a brother’s life, nature dispenses with the deed so far, that it becomes a virtue.’ ‘O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!’ said Isabel; ‘would you preserve your life by your sister’s shame? O fie, fie, fie! I thought, my brother, you had in you such a mind of honour, that had you twenty heads to render up on twenty blocks, you would have yielded them up all, before your sister should stoop to such dishonour.’ ‘Nay, hear me, Isabel!’ said Claudio. But what he would have said in defence of his weakness, in desiring to live by the dishonour of his virtuous sister, was interrupted by the entrance of the duke; who said: ‘Claudio, I have overheard what has passed between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her; what he said, has only been to make trial of her virtue.

She having the truth of honour in her, has given him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive. There is no hope that he will pardon you; therefore pass your hours in prayer, and make ready for death.’ Then Claudio repented of his weakness, and said: ‘Let me ask my sister’s pardon! I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid of it.’ And Claudio retired, overwhelmed with shame and sorrow for his fault.

The duke being now alone with Isabel, commended her virtuous resolution, saying: ‘The hand that made you fair, has made you good.’

‘O,’ said Isabel, ‘how much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! if ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will discover his government.’

Isabel knew not that she was even now making the discovery she threatened. The duke replied: ‘That shall not be much amiss; yet as the matter now stands, Angelo will repel your accusation; therefore lend an attentive ear to my advisings. I believe that you may most righteously do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit, redeem your brother from the angry law, do no stain to your own most gracious person, and much please the absent duke, if peradventure he shall ever return to have notice of this business. Isabel said, she had a spirit to do anything he desired, provided it was nothing wrong. ‘Virtue is bold, and never fearful,’ said the duke: and then he asked her, if she had ever heard of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier who was drowned at sea. ‘I have heard of the lady,’ said Isabel, ‘and good words went with her name.’ ‘This lady,’ said the duke, ‘is the wife of Angelo; but her marriage dowry was on board the vessel in which her brother perished, and mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentlewoman! for, beside the loss of a most noble and renowned brother, who in his love towards her was ever most kind and natural, in the wreck of her fortune she lost the affections of her husband, the well-seeming Angelo; who pretending to discover some dishonour in this honourable lady (though the true cause was the loss of her dowry) left her in tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort. His unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, has, like an impediment in the current, made it more unruly, and Mariana loves her cruel husband with the full continuance of her first affection.’ The duke then more plainly unfolded his plan. It was, that Isabel should go to lord Angelo, and seemingly consent to come to him as he desired at midnight; that by this means she would obtain the promised pardon; and that Mariana should go in her stead to the appointment, and pass herself upon Angelo in the dark for Isabel.

‘Nor, gentle daughter,’ said the feigned friar, ‘fear you to do this thing; Angelo is her husband, and to bring them thus together is no sin.’

Isabel being pleased with this project, departed to do as he directed her; and he went to apprise Mariana of their intention. He had before this time visited this unhappy lady in his assumed character, giving her religious instruction and friendly consolation, at which times he had learned her sad story from her own lips; and now she, looking upon him as a holy man, readily consented to be directed by him in this undertaking.

When Isabel returned from her interview with Angelo, to the house of Mariana, where the duke had appointed her to meet him, he said: ‘Well met, and in good time; what is the news from this good deputy?’

Isabel related the manner in which she had settled the affair. ‘Angelo,’

said she, ‘has a garden surrounded with a brick wall, on the western side of which is a vineyard, and to that vineyard is a gate.’ And then she showed to the duke and Mariana two keys that Angelo had given her; and she said: ‘This bigger key opens the vineyard gate; this other a little door which leads from the vineyard to the garden. There I have made my promise at the dead of the night to call upon him, and have got from him his word of assurance for my brother’s life. I have taken a due and wary note of the place; and with whispering and most guilty diligence he showed me the way twice over.’ ‘Are there no other tokens agreed upon between you, that Mariana must observe?’ said the duke. ‘No, none,’ said Isabel, ‘only to go when it is dark. I have told him my time can be but short; for I have made him think a servant comes along with me, and that this servant is persuaded I come about my brother.’ The duke commended her discreet management, and she, turning to Mariana, said: ‘Little have you to say to Angelo, when you depart from him, but soft and low: Remember now my brother!’

Mariana was that night conducted to the appointed place by Isabel, who rejoiced that she had, as she supposed, by this device preserved both her brother’s life and her own honour. But that her brother’s life was safe the duke was not well satisfied, and therefore at midnight he again repaired to the prison, and it was well for Claudio that he did so, else would Claudio have that night been beheaded; for soon after the duke entered the prison, an order came from the cruel deputy, commanding that Claudio should be beheaded, and his head sent to him by five o’clock in the morning.