How I perfuaded, how I pray'd and kneel'd, Release my brother; and after much debatement, And I did yield to him: But the next morn betimes, For my poor brother's head. Duke. This is most likely! Ifab. Oh, that it were as like, as it is true! Duke. By heav'n, fond wretch, thou know'ft not what thou fpeak'ft; Or elfe thou art fuborn'd against his honour In hateful practice. First, his integrity Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason, Ifab. And is this all? Then, oh, you bleffed minifters above! Keep me in patience; and with ripen'd time, In countenance: heav'n fhield your Grace from woe, go. Duke. I know you'd fain be gone. An officer; On him fo near us? this needs must be a practice. Ifab. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. Who knows that Lodowick? Lucie. My Lord, I know him; 'tis a meddling Friar; I do not like the man; had he been lay, my Lord, Duke. Words against me? this is a good Friar, belike; And to fet on this wretched woman here Against our fubftitute! let this Friar be found. Lucio. But yefternight, my Lord, fhe and that Friar, I saw them at the prifon : a fawcy Friar, A very fcurvy fellow. Peter. Bleffed be your royal Grace! I have stood by, my Lord, and I have heard Duke. We did believe no lefs. Know you that Friar Lodowick, which he speaks of? As he's reported by this gentleman; believe it. Peter. Well; he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is fick, my Lord, Of a strange fever. On his mere request, (Being come to knowledge that there was complaint To speak as from his mouth, what he doth know So vulgarly and perfonally accus'd, Her fhall you hear difproved to her eyes Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it. Give us fome feats; come, coufin Angelo, (29) Of your own caufe. Is this the witness, Friar? [Ifabella is carried off, guarded. Enter Mariana veiled. First, let her fhew her face, and after, speak. Duke. What, are you marry'd? Mari. No, my Lord. Duke. Are you a maid? Mari. No, my Lord. Duke. A widow then? Mari. Neither, my Lord. Duke. Why are you nothing then? neither maid, widow, nor wife? Lucio. My Lord, fhe may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nòr wife. Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had fome cause to prattle for himself. Lucio. Well, my Lord. Mari. My Lord, I do confefs, I ne'er was marry'd ; I've known my husband; yet my husband knows not, (29) -come coufin Angelo, In this I'll be impartial: be you judge Of your own caufe.] Surely, this Duke had odd notions of impartiality: to profefs it, and then commit the decifion of a caufe to the perfon accus'd of being the criminal. He talks much more rationally on this affair, when he speaks in the character of the Friar, -The Duke's unjust Thus to retort your manifeft appeal; And put your trial in the villain's mouth, I think, there needs no ftronger authority to convince, that the In this I will be partial ; Lucie. He was drunk then, my Lord; it can be no better. Duke. For the benefit of filence, would thou wert fo too. Lucio. Well, my Lord. Duke. This is no witnefs for Lord Angelo. She, that accuses him of fornication, In felf-fame manner doth accufe my husband; Ang Charges fhe more than me ? Dude. No? you fay, your hufband. [To Mariana. Mari. Why, juft, my Lord; and that is Angelo; Who thinks, he knows, that he ne'er knew my body; But knows, he thinks, that he knows Ifabel's. Ang. This is a strange abuse; let's fee thy face. Mari. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [Unveiling. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou fwor'ft, was worth the looking on; And did fupply thee at thy garden-house In her imagin'd perfon. Duke. Know you this woman? Lucio. Carnally, the fays. Lucio. Enough, my Lord. Ang. My Lord, I must confefs, I know this woman; And five years fince there was fome speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly, for that her promised proportions I neve I never fpake with her, faw her, nor heard from her, Mari. Noble Prince, As there comes light from heav'n, and words from breath, As there is fenfe in truth, and truth in virtue, I am affianc'd this man's wife, as strongly As words could make up vows: and, my good Lord, But Tuesday night laft gone, in's garden-house, He knew me as a wife; as this is true, Let me in fafety raise me from my knees; Or else for ever be confixed here, A marble monument. Ang. I did but fmile 'till now. Now, good my Lord, give me the fcope of justice Duke. Ay, with my heart; And punish them unto your height of pleasure. Peter. Would he were here, my Lord; for he, indeed, Hath fet the women on to this complaint. Your Provoft knows the place, where he abides; And he may fetch him. Duke. Go, do it inftantly. And you, my noble and well-warranted coufin, Do with your injuries, as feems you best, |