Christopher Marlowe creates
more anagrams in the prison

ANAGRAMS BY CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE

extracted by
Roberta Ballantine

from

MEASURE FOR MEASURE

1 & 2 My Lord. / Of Gouernment, the properties to vnfold, Would seeme in me t' affect speech & [and] discourse, Chr. M. made ye t-tale closed in French priests' prison. Fed rot-gut food, 'n' swept 'n' moued– E-e-e-e!– foul vom–
3 & 4 Since I am put to know, that your owne Science Exceedes (in that) the lists of all aduice it 'n' we-wee ouer t' city tank. Spent months til' I chose– I chose– a cu-cu exit as a dead fello, 'n'
5 & 6 My strength can giue you: then no more remaines But that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, came home a thin weary failure. No success! Yet for no reason I brot my best uuriting t' you. Th-thy gun–
7 & 8 And let them worke: The nature of our People, Our Cities Institutions, and the Termes For Common Iustice,/ 's confiscated in the t-trap. Ide onlee luck to saue me– oi, oi!– up there i' th' muniment room. Wet-front trousers
9 & 10 y' are as pregnant in As Art, and practice, hath inriched any That we remember: There is our Commission, were a hindrance, C? But no more than ye assassin reachin' th' top a' th' stair. I'm i' danger, C? I pray t' re-remem–
11 & 12 From which, we would not haue you warpe; call hither,/ I say, bid come before vs Angelo: ber how t' hide. No light. Here he comes! Oi! A couple of 'em in ovr way! Say! A brawl! U'd C– Wulf
13 & 14 What figure of vs thinke you, he will beare. for you must know, we haue with speciall soule has a knife! Both hu-hug Kit vp ye wal. Woe! T' lose my life for clues I stole! I weave, ru-run! Wow! H–
15 & 16 Elected him our absence to supply; Lent him our terror, drest him with our loue, ow t' elude 'em? I slip, recoup, shoue thru ye door, sl-lam it on 'em, return t' Cher. Th' bri–
17 & 18 And giuen his Deputation all the Organs Of our owne powre: What thinke you of it? lliant run ends i' fear. O-o, I'ue a knife-wound showin'! How t' go out happy to the great
19 & 20 If any in Vienna be of worth To vndergoe such ample grace, and honour, It is Lord Angelo. room bleeding ingloriovsly 'n' escape vnforgiven? I cd rot here! Whoa! An-an-an out! Daft h–
21 & 22 Looke where he comes. Alwayes obedient to your Graces will I come to know your pleasure. auen– ye iail! Look! My couer's a priest: We'l do some cock wrong at ye whore house– We'l B lo, ere t–
23 & 24 Angelo; There is a kinde of Character in thy life, That to th' obseruer, doth thy history Fully vnfold: h' fool h-h-hitters softly return t' byte, and in regret I'l ask ovt loud for iail at once! H-hey! Thy chafed,
25 & 26 . . .Thy selfe, and thy belongings Are not thine owne so proper, as to waste bleeding pal wants ye safest, highest sort o' retreat now– No, no hope yn
27 & 28 Thy selfe vpon thy vertues; they on thee: Heauen doth with vs, as we, with Torches doe rvshin' out: they'd waste thy wet peter, 'n' why choose t' die? H-have t' shun thee, fools! Eve–
29 & 30 Not light them for themselues: For if our vertues Did not goe forth of vs, 'twere all alike n tho' th' stolid gendarme felt sorroful t' see our h-hot revel, I felt I gaue 'im soft work. Fev–
31 & 32 As if we had them not: Spirits are not finely touch'd, But to fine issues: nor nature never lends erish 'n' fetter'd, I'm carted thru sno, sno, snow to ye fleuve 'n' beast-priests' iail. U dean of huntin'
33 & 34 The smallest scruple of her excellence, But like a thrifty goddesse, she determines knouu Paris Chrystmas t' B frigid! E-e-e! See, he's left t' extreme cold, Hen. He's led t' les cell–
35 & 36 Her selfe the glory of a creditour, Both thanks, and vse; but I do bend my speech s deep i' ye b-bldg, t' reach my chosen door. V'd h-have thot– fire, blanket, rest! No! Suf–
37 & 38 To one that can my part in him advertise; Hold therefore Angelo: ferin– my motto! On arrival I enter. Hope's dead: no heat! Get th' chal-luts
39 & 40 In our remoue, be thou at full, our selfe: Mortallitie and Mercie in Vienna movin'! U'l be learnin' fortitude here or leave life, man! O-o, ice, mi natur–

challuts. chalutz. Webster: a Jewish pioneer (Hebrew: a Jewish warrior)

41 & 42 Liue in thy tongue, and heart: Old Escalus Though first in question, is thy secondary. Take thy Commission. al enemy, on th' shutter! Th' guard frees my hands, goes out. Kit stays in, quiet, lyin' on a cold cot. Oi! Chin is shiu–
43 & 44 Now good my Lord Let there be some more test, made of my mettle, ery. O, Mom told me we'l feel better some d-day! No more t' get th' mos–
45 & 46 Before so noble, and so great a figure Be stamp't vpon it. No more euasion: t dangerous, frustrating iobs. So B brave– feel no open pain! Oe, Oe! Metamo–
47 & 48 We haue with a leauen'd, and prepared choice Proceeded to you; therefore take your honors: rphose a dark cold hour to one wi' hope for heauy thaw– U dance 'n' reuert ye deep ice to readee
49 & 50 Our haste from hence is of so quicke condition, That it prefers it selfe, and leaues vnquestion'd liquid drops o' deuu. U C, insanitee takes me. O, qvite insensate, I stretch on th' floor on f-fresh feca–
51 & 52 Matters of needfull value: We shall write to you As time, and our concernings shall importune, l matter– damp, tho' not for long. U ever lie alone smear'd in frosty shit? U C, I was unwell, Uncle. Sea,
53 & 54 How it goes with vs, and doe looke to know What doth befall you here. So fare you well: I should wake, try to wash! O-o, no water! Weakly I get on th' bed, hold f-foul sleeve– O-o, who–
55 & 56 To th' hopefull execution doe I leaue you, Of your Commissions. Yet giue leaue (my Lord,) 's at ye door? "O, good!" I yel. "Expect U R comin' in?" "U'l see! Leue– uoo! Moue, U filthy louse!" My faith
57 & 58 That we may bring you something on the way. My haste may not admit it, i' humanity's gone, yet who am I? So I try t' B game 'n' do what th' yat meant. My
59 & 60 Nor neede you (on mine honor) have to doe With any scruple: Your scope is as mine owne, open wound yawns, yet nouu I stande– No, I slip, rise once more, hover, reach home– O no, ye
61 & 62 So to inforce, or qualifie the Lawes As to your soule seemes good: give me your hand, soiled floor hits me. A guarde enters ye room, watches ye sequel. I go, "O-o-o," as if nouu v–
63 & 64 Ile priuily away: I loue the people, But doe not like to stage me to their eyes: omit's ineuitable. O-o, great! He'l tell U t' keep ye pot, or he'l deuise a pye wi' it. Oy!
65 & 66 Though it doe well, I doe not rellish well Their lowd applause, and Aues vehement: So leue-vou. He held me o'er th' desired pot wi' a gentle hand. We put in al o' th' swill– all
67 & 68 Nor doe I thinke the man of safe discretion That do's affect it. Once more fare you well. remnants o' indiscretion. O, ere I left them, ye fuckin' fools offer'd a death act. Woe! Tho' a–
69 & 70 The heauens giue safety to your purposes. Lead forth, and bring you back in happinesse. n hour saued Kit, he cd B shut up as Gilbert Gif. For aye, 'n' neuer see his pappy! O, no! Say no t' ea–
71 &72 I thanke you, fare you well. I shall desire you, Sir, to giue me leave rly release! Ye killers wait outside! O, agony! I loue ma vie! Uh, uh! Fe–
73 & 74 To have free speech with you; and it concernes me To looke into the bottom of my place: ar hants me: what if I bot freedom, not content t-to keep my cool? O, pleeese! Oi vey! Ch-chou!

 

Measure for Measure. First Folio of Shakespeare. Comedies, p. 61. Only lines of dialogue are counted.

Translations copyright© 2000 R. Ballantine.

All rights reserved.