I should not think it strange; for 'tis a physick, That's bitter to sweet end. Mari. I would, friar Peter Isab. O, peace; the friar is come. Enter Friar PETER 61. F. Peter. Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, Where you may have such vantage on the duke, He shall not pass you: Twice have the trumpets sounded; The generous and gravest citizens Have hent the gates, and very near upon The duke is ent'ring; therefore hence, away. [Exeunt. 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 Till you have heard me in my true complaint, And given me justice, justice, justice, justice! Duke. Relate your wrongs: In what? By whom? Be brief: Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice; Reveal yourself to him. Isab. O, worthy duke, You bid me seek redemption of the devil: Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak Must either punish me, not being believ'd, Or wring redress from you: hear me, O, hear me, here. Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm: She hath been a suitor to me for her brother, 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? That Angelo's a murderer; is't not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violator; Is it not strange, and strange? Duke. Nay, it is ten times strange. Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo, Than this is all as true as it is strange: 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 impos sible That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible, In all his dressings, characts 62, titles, forms, Duke. By mine honesty, If she be mad, (as I believe no other,) Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e'er I heard in madness. Isab. O, 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 seems hid; 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 Isab. Duke. You were not bid to speak. Nor wish'd to hold my peace. Duke. That's he, indeed. No, my good lord; I wish you now then; you Pray you, take note of it: and when 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. 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. I went |