Act 3, you’ll notice, is a single continuous scene. The reason for
this is that there is never a moment when all characters have exited, hence no scene
break. This one-scene Act is structured as a series of five overlapping interviews,
each between two characters; at the end of each interview in the series, one
character exits and another enters. In between the third and fourth interviews there
is a comic interlude; and at the end of the fifth is the Duke’s soliloquy. The whole
thing can be described as follows:
The Duke’s opening monologue, like Hamlet’s “To be or not to be”
soliloquy, includes a contemptus mundi—a
list of reasons why life is not worth living. But where Hamlet’s
“hatred for the world” stems from existential despair, the
Duke’s list of reasons for denigrating life is intended to comfort Claudio
as he awaits execution. And where Hamlet might be seen as engaging in the
unpardonable sin of hopeless despair (recall Richard III in his Act 5
soliloquy), the Duke is posing as a friar offering religious counsel, the gist
of which is the central Christian paradox according to which the willingness to
surrender one’s life is the key to gaining it—or, in the words of a
chastened Claudio, echoing Jesus, “To sue to live, I find I seek to die, /
And seeking death, find life” (42-43).
Examine lines 6-41 and briefly list several of the Duke’s reasons why life is not worth living. Then focus on one or two you find most compelling and explain why. Do you see humor in any of this?
Though apparently resigned to death, Claudio’s resolve weakens even as his sister doubles down on the Duke’s insisting that Claudio die. Why is that? What happens during the interview with Isabella that causes Claudio to falter in his Jesus-like determination to lay down his life in order to save his sister’s honor (and perhaps her everlasting soul)?
With Isabella unwilling to compromise her honor in order to save her
brother—“I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should
be unlawfully born” (189-90) (i.e. that I should give birth to a bastard
fathered by Angelo)—the Duke proposes a scheme to save the day. He
becomes in doing so a kind of deus ex machina, or
“god in the machine,” a device dating back to ancient Greek drama in
which a deity would enter the stage literally in some kind of machine, a chariot
for example, or be lowered onto the stage by a manually-operated crane. Of
course the Duke uses no such device; but his proposal is similar in the
outrageousness of its generic artifice. In this case, that artifice is the bed-trick, a commonplace of
early-seventeenth-century drama. Got a seemingly unsolvable problem? Ta da! The
Duke has a plan.
What, exactly, is that plan? And is there anything about it that is problematic? As you consider your answer, jump ahead briefly to something the Duke says to Mariana in Act 1V. To assuage her fear that sleeping with Angelo would be wrong, he tells her that Angelo “is your husband on a pre-contract [i.e. exchange of vows]. / To bring you thus together ’tis no sin” (4.1.68-69). Where have we seen this before, and why does it matter?
The interlude introduces hilarity amidst this long scene’s otherwise sober proceedings. We might well ask, echoing the Duke, “What stuff is here?” (262). There are also moments of incisive wit, beginning with (my favorite) Pompey’s remarks to the Duke about the “two usuries” (263-83). What does he mean, and what does his critique imply about the connection between class and justice in Viennese society? Does Pompey remind us of anyone?
Identify other moments in this interlude that you find particularly funny or insightful or both.
What do we think of Lucio’s remarks about the Duke to the man he thinks is a friar (but is in fact the Duke himself)? I refer to lines 358-90. Is Lucio’s account of the Duke’s behavior credible? Why or why not?
One bit of evidence against Lucio’s credibility is the Duke’s mini-soliloquy (416-19). These four lines are offered when no one else is on the stage, so technically they are to be understood as revealing the Duke’s actual thoughts as opposed to some kind of performance (of which he, of all characters, is the most adept). Were there any truth to Lucio’s slander, would not the Duke acknowledge and comment on it privately?
Similarly, when asked about the Duke’s reputation, Escalus, who does not know that the Duke is the one asking, has nothing but good things to say about him (455-61). Comments?
Compare this to what Angelo said earlier (2.1.21-31) about it not mattering whether the one who metes out justice is himself guilty of the crimes he prosecutes, unless—and this qualification matters—his crimes are discovered. In other words, the character of the person prosecuting the law matters little, so long as the law is upheld. So long as no one knows of the judge’s crimes, the office the judge upholds remains untainted. Recall Angelo’s justification to Isabella: “It is the law, not I, condemn your brother” (2.2.82). The Duke in his soliloquy argues otherwise. Who’s right, and why?
We’ve neglected one brief section, an exchange among Escalus, the Provost, and Mistress Overdone at lines 420-39. Comments? Why is this bit of plot development significant?