Lucio. That's I, an't like your grace. I came to her from Claudio, and desired her To try her gracious fortune with lord Angelo, For her poor brother's pardon. Isa. That's he, indeed. Duke. You were not bid to speak. Nor wish'd to hold my peace. Duke. No, my good lord ; I wish you now then; 'Pray you, take note of it: and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven, you then Be perfect. Lucio. I warrant your honour. Duke. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to it. Isa. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. Lucio. Right. Duke. It may be right: but you are in the wrong To speak before your time. Proceed. Isa. To this pernicious caitiff deputy- The phrase is to the matter. I went Pardon it; Proceed. Duke. Mended again: the matter? (For this was of much length;) the vile conclusion 2 And I did yield to him: But the next morn betimes, Duke. This is most likely ! Isa. O, that it were as like as it is true! Duke. By heaven, fond3 wretch, thou know'st not what thou speak'st; Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour, Stands without blemish; - next, it imports no reason, That with such vehemency he should pursue on; Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Isa. And is this all? Then, O, you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, In countenance ! - Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go! Duke. I know you'd fain be gone:- - An officer! To prison with her :- Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us. This needs must be a practice. Who knew of your intent and coming hither? Isa. One that I would were here, friar Lodowick. Duke. A ghostly father, belike:- Who knows that Lodowick ? Lucio. My lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling friar; I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly. Duke. Words against me! This' a good friar belike? And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute ! - Let this friar be found. Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar I saw them at the prison; a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. 3 Foolish. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard So vulgarly and personally accused, Duke. Take her hence awhile.— Good friar, let's hear it. [Exit Friar PETER. [Gentlemen fetch two chairs. [Exeunt ISABELLA and two Apparitors. Give us some seats. Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo ? O Heaven! the vanity of wretched fools! In this I'll be impartial; be you judge Of your own cause. - [The DUKE and ANGELO sit. Enter MARIANA, veiled, and Friar PETER. Is this the witness, friar? First, let her show her face; and after speak. Until my husband bid me. Duke. Mari. No, my lord. I will not show my face, What, are you married? Duke. Mari. No, my lord. Duke. A widow then? Mari. Neither, my lord. Duke. Why, you Are nothing then: - Neither maid, widow, nor wife? Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Duke. Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause To prattle for himself. Lucio. Well, my lord. 4 Publicly. Mari. My lord, I do confess, I ne'er was married; And, I confess, besides, I am no maid: I have known my husband; yet my husband knows not That ever he knew me. Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord? it can be no better. Duke. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too! Lucio. Well, my lord. Duke. This is no witness for my lord Angelo. She, that accuses him, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; Mari. Not that I know. Duke. No? You say, your husband. Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house, Duke. Know this woman? Lucio. Carnally, she says. Lucio. Enough, my lord. you Sirrah, no more. Ang. My lord, I must confess, I know this woman; And, five years since, there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her: which was broke off, 5 Deception. Partly for that her promised proportions I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour. Mari. Noble prince, [Kneels. As there comes light from heaven, and words from breath, As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees; A marble monument ! [Rises. Ang. I did but smile till now; [ANGELO starts up. Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice; My patience here is touch'd: I do perceive, These poor informal" women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member, That sets them on: Let me have way, my lord, To find this practice' out. Duke. Ay, with my heart; And punish them unto your height of pleasure. Thou foolish friar,-and thou pernicious woman, Peter. Would he were here, my lord; for he indeed, Hath set the women on to this complaint. |