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Nay, it is ten times truer; for truth is truth
To th' end of reckoning.

Duke. Away with her: poor foul,

She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense.

Ifab. 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 madnefs. Make not impoffible
That which but feems unlike; 'tis not impoffible,
But one, the wicked'ft caitiff on the ground,
May feem as fhy, as grave, as juft, as abfolute,
As Angelo; even fo may Angelo,

In all his dreffings, caracts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain. Believe it, Royal Prince,
If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more,
Had I more name for badnefs.

Duke. By mine honefty,

If the be mad, as I believe no other,
Her madness hath the oddeft frame of fenfe;
Such a dependency of thing on thing,
As e'er I heard in madnefs.

Ifab. Gracious Duke,

Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason
For inequality; but let your reason serve
To make the truth appear, where it feems hid;
Not hide the falfe, feems true.

Duke. Many, that are not mad,
Have fure more lack of reafon.
What would you fay?

Ifab. I am the fifter of one Claudio,
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication
To lofe his head; condemn'd by Angelo:
I, in probation of a fisterhood,

Was fent to by my brother; one Lucio,
As then the meffenger,-

Lucio. That's I, an't like

your Grace :

I came to her from Claudio, and defir'd her

To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo

For her poor brother's pardon.

Ifab. That's he, indeed

Duke. You were not bid to speak.

[To Lucio.

Lucio. No, my good Lord, nor wish'd to hold my

peace.

Duke. I with you now then;

Pray you take note of it: and when you have
A bufinefs for yourfelf, pray heav'n you then
Be perfect.

Lucio. I warrant your Honour.

Duke. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to't. Ijab. This gentleman told fomewhat of my tale. Lucio. Right.

Duke. It may be right, but you are in the wrong To fpeak before your time. Proceed.

Ifab. I went

To this pernicious caitiff Deputy.

Duke. That's fomewhat madly spoken.
Ifab. Pardon it:

The phrafe is to the matter.

Duke. Mended again: the matter;-proceed.
Ifab. In brief; (to fet the needless process by,
How I perfuaded, how I pray'd and kneel'd,
How he repell'd me, and how I reply'd;
For this was of much length); the vile conclufion
I now begin with grief and fhame to utter.
He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupifcent intemp'rate luft,

Release my brother; and after much debatement,

My fifterly remorfe confutes mine honour,

And I did yield to him: But the next morn betimes, His purpofe furfeiting, he fends a warrant

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't,

Or elfe thou art fuborn'd against his honour
In hateful practice. First, his integrity

Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason,
That with fuch vehemence he should purfue
Faults proper to himfelf. If he had fo offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off. Some one hath fet you on;
Confefs the truth, and fay by whose advice

Thou cam'ft here to complain.

Ifab. And is this all ?

Then, oh, you bleffed minifters above!

Keep me in patience; and with ripen'd time,
Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up

In countenance: Heav'n fhield your Grace from woe,
As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go.

Duke. I know you'd fain be gone. An officer; To prifon with her. Shall we thus permit A blafting and a scandalous breath to fall On him fo near us? This needs must be a practice. Who knew of your intent, and coming hither?

Ifab. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. Duke. A ghoftly father, belike:

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, For certain words he fpake against your Grace In your retirement, I had fwinge'd him foundly. 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 faw them at the prifon; a faucy Friar,

A very fcurvy fellow.

Peter. Bleffed be your Royal Grace!

I have flood by, my Lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd. First, hath this woman
Moft wrongfully accus'd your substitute;

Who is as free from touch or foil with her,

As the from one ungot.

Duke. We did believe no less.

Know you that Friar Lodowick, which fhe fpeaks of? Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy;

Not fcurvy, nor a temporary medler,

As he's reported by this gentleman;

And, on my truft, a man that never yet

Did, as he vouches, mifreport your Grace.

Lucio. My Lord, moft villanously; believe it.

Peter. Well; he in time may come to clear himself;

But at this inftant he is fick, my Lord,

Of a ftrange fever. On his mere request,

VOL. I.

Sf

(Being

(Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither
To speak as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true, and falfe; and what he with his oath
By all probation will make up full clear,
Whenever he's convented. First, for this woman;
To juftify this worthy Nobleman,

So vulgarly and perfonally accus'd,

Her fhall you hear difproved to her eyes,
Till fhe herself confefs it.

Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it.

Do you not fmile at this, Lord Angelo?
O heav'n the vanity of wretched fools!
Give us fome feats; come, coufin Angelo,
In this I'll be impartial: be you judge
Of your own caufe. Is this the witnefs, Friar?

SCENE

[Isabella is carried off, guarded:

III. Enter Mariana veil'd.

First let her fhew her face; and, after, fpeak.

Mari. Pardon, my Lord, I will not fhew my face, Until hufband bid me.

my

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, nor wife.

Duke. Silence that fellow: I would he had fome caufe to prattle for himself.

Lucio. Well, my Lord.

Mari. My Lord, I do confefs, I ne'er was marry'd;
And I confefs befides, I am no maid;

I've 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.

A

Duke. For the benefit of filence, would thou wert

fo too.

Lucio. Well, my Lord.

Duke. This is no witness for Lord Angelo.

Mari. Now I come to't, my Lord.

She that accufes him of fornication,

In felf-fame manner doth accuse my husband;
And charges him, my Lord, with fuch a time,
When I'll depofe I had him in mine arms,
With all th' effect of love.

Ang. Charges fhe more than me?
Mari. Not that I know.

Duke. No? you say your husband.

[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 Isabel's.

Ang. This is a ftrange 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:
This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract,
Was faft belock'd in thine: this is the body
That took away the match from Ifabel,
And did fupply thee at thy garden-house
In her imagin'd perfon.

Duke. Know you this woman?

Lucio. Carnally, the fays.

Duke. Sirrah, no more.

Lucio. Enough, my Lord.

Ang My Lord, I must confefs, I know this woman; And five years fince there was fome fpeech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly, for that her promifed proportions Came fhort of compofition; but, in chief, For that her reputation was disvalu'd In levity: fince which time of five years

I never spake with her, faw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour.

Mari. Noble Prince,

[breath,

As there comes light from heav'n, and words from As there is fenfe in truth, and truth in virtue,

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