Measure For Measure

The Folio of 1623

William Shakespeare, Grace Ioppolo

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781317903734
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literatura
• Subtopic: Arte dramático shakespeariano

The Shakespearean Originals Series takes as its point of departure the question: "What is it that we read Shakespeare?" The answer may seem self-evident: we read the words that Shakespeare wrote. But do we? In the case of all the major editions of Shakespeare available in the market, the fact of the matter is that many of the words that we read in an edition of, say, Hamlet, never appeared in the text as it was printed during or shortly after Shakespeare's own lifetime. They are the interpetations and interpolations of a series of editors who have been systematically changing Shakespeare's text from the eighteenth century onwards.

This volume offers the text of Measure for Measure, as printed in the 1623 First Folio.

Measure, for Measure.

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords.

Duke. Escalus.

Esc. My Lord.

Duk. Of Government, the properties to unfold,
Would seeme in me t’affect speech & discourse,
Since I am put to know, that your owne Science
Exceedes (in that) the lists of all advice
My strength can give you: Then no more remaines
But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able,
And let them worke: The nature of our People,
Our Cities Institutions, and the Termes
For Common Justice, y’are as pregnant in
As Art, and practise, hath inriched any
That we remember: There is our Commission,
From which, we would not have you warpe; call hither,
I say, bid come before us Angelo:
What figure of us thinke you, he will beare.
For you must know, we have with speciali soule
Elected him our absence to supply;
Lent him our terror, drest him with our love,
And given his Deputation all the Organs
Of our owne powre: What thinke you of it?

Esc. If any in Vienna be of worth
To undergoe such ample grace, and honour,
It is Lord Angelo.

Enter Angelo.

Duk. Looke where he comes.

Ang. Alwayes obedient to your Graces will,
I come to know your pleasure.

Duke. Angelo:
There is a kinde of Character in thy life,
That to th’observer, doth thy history
Fully unfold: Thy selfe, and thy belongings
Are not thine owne so proper, as to waste
Thy selfe upon thy vertues; they on thee:
Heaven doth with us, as we, with Torches doe,
Not light them for themselves: For if our vertues
Did not goe forth of us, ’twere all alike
As if we had them not: Spirits are not finely tonch’d,
But to fine issues: nor nature never lends
The smallest scruple of her excellence,
But like a thrifty goddesse, she determines
Her selfe the glory of a creditour,
Both thanks, and use; but I do bend my speech
To one that can my part in him advertise;
Hold therefore Angelo:
In our remove, be thou at full, our selfe:
Mortallitie and Mercie in Vienna
Live in thy tongue, and heart: Old Escalus
Though first in question, is thy secondary.
Take thy Commission.

Ang. Now good my Lord
Let there be some more test, made of my mettle,
Before so noble, and so great a figure
Be stamp’t upon it.

Duk. No more evasion:
We have with a leaven’d, and prepared choice
Proceeded to you; therefore take your honors:
Our haste from hence is of so quicke condition,
That it prefers it selfe, and leaves unquestion’d
Matters of needfull value: We shall write to you
As time, and our concernings shall importune,
How it goes with us, and doe looke to know
What doth befall you here. So fare you well:
To th’hopefull execution doe I leave you,
Of your Commissions.

Ang. Yet give leave (my Lord,)
That we may bring you something on the way.

Duk. My haste may not admit it,
Nor neede you (on mine honor) have to doe
With any scruple: your scope is as mine owne,
So to inforce, or qualifie the Lawes
As to your soule seemes good: Give me your hand,
Ile privily away: I love the people,
But doe not like to stage me to their eyes:
Though it doe well, I doe not rellish well
Their lowd applause, and Aves vehement:
Nor doe I thinke the man of safe discretion
That do’s affect it. Once more fare you well.

Ang. The heavens give safety to your purposes.

Esc. Lead forth, and bring you backe in happinesse.

Exit.

Duk. I thanke you, fare you well.

Esc. I shall desire you, Sir, to give me leave
To have free speech with you; and it concernes me
To looke into the bottome of my place:
A powre I have, but of what strength and nature,
I am not yet instructed.

Ang. ’Tis so with me: Let us with-draw together,
And we may soone our satisfaction have
Touching that point.

Esc. lie wait upon your honor.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Lucio, and two other Gentlemen.

Luc. If the Duke, with the other Dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why then all the Dukes fall upon the King.

1.Gent. Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of Hungaries.

2.Gent. Amen.

Luc. Thou conclud’st like the Sanctimonious Pirat, that went to sea with the ten Commandements, but scrap’d one out of the Table.

2.Gent. Thou shalt not Steale?

Luc. I, that he raz’d.

1.Gent. Why? ’twas a commandement, to command the Captaine and all the rest from their functions: they put forth to steale: There’s not a Souldier of us all, that in the thanks-giving before meate, do rallish the petition well, that praies for peace.

2.Gent. I never heard any Souldier dislike it.

Luc. I beleeve thee: for I thinke thou never was’t where Grace was said.

2.Gent. No? a dozen times at least.

1.Gent. What? In meeter?

Luc. In any proportion, or in any language.

1.Gent. I thinke, or in any Religion.

Luc. I, why not? Grace, is Grace, despight of all controversie: as for example; Thou thy selfe art a wicked villaine, despight of all Grace.

1.Gent. Well: there went but a paire of sheeres betweene us.

Luc. I grant: as there may betweene the Lists, and the Velvet. Thou art the List.

1.Gent. And thou the Velvet; thou art good velvet; thou’rt a three pild-peece I warrant thee: I had as liefe be a Lyst of an English Kersey, as be pil’d, as thou art pil’d, for a French Velvet. Do I speake feelingly now?

Luc. I thinke thou do’st: and indeed with most painfull feeling of thy speech: I will, out of thine owne confession, learne to begin thy health; but, whilst I live forget to drinke after thee.

1.Gent. I think I have done my selfe wrong, have I not?

2.Gent. Yes, that thou hast; whether thou art tainted, or free.

Enter Bawde.

Luc. Behold...