ACT V. SCENE I. A publick place near the city gate. Mariana (veil'd), Isabella, and Peter, at a distance. Enter at opposite doors, Duke, Varrius, Lords; Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, Officers, and Citizens. Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met:- Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. Ang. You make my bonds still greater. Duke. O, your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, Peter and Isabella come forward. F. Peter. Now is your time; speak loud, and kneel before him. Isab. Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard • Lower. Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have said, a maid! Till you have heard me in my true complaint, And give me, justice, justice, justice, justice! Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice; Isab. O, worthy duke, You bid me seek redemption of the devil: Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak Or wring redress from you: hear me, O, hear me, here. Cut off by course of justice. Isab. By course of justice! Ang. And she will speak most bitterly, and strange. Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak: That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange? An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; Nay, ten times strange. Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo, Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth Duke. Away with her :-Poor soul, She speaks this in the infirmity of sense. Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness: make not impossible That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible, But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute, In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, Duke. By mine honesty, If she be mad (as I believe no other), Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Duke. Mended again: the matter;-Proceed. Duke. Many that are not mad, Have, sure, more lack of reason.-What would you say? Isab, I am the sister of one Claudio, Was sent to by my brother: One Lucio Lucio. That's I, an't like your grace: I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her Pray you, take note of it: and when you have *Habits and characters of office. Lucio. I warrant your honour. Duke. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to it. Isab. 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. Isab. To this pernicious caitiff deputy. Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken, The phrase is to the matter. I went Pardon it; Duke. Mended again: the matter:-Proceed. (For this was of much length), the vile conclusion Release my brother; and, after much debatement, And I did yield to him: But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother's head. Duke. This is most likely! Isab. O, that it were as like, as it is true! Duke. By Heaven, fond‡ 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, Isab. • Refuted. + Pity. Foolish. And is this all? § Conspiracy. Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, In countenance!-Heaven shield your grace from woe, 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? Isab. 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 medling 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 swing'd* 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. F. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abus'd: First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute; Who is as free from touch or soil with her, As she from one ungot. Duke. We did believe no less. Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of? F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary medler, As he's reported by this gentleman; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace. Lucio. My lord, most villainously; believe it. * Beat. |