Isab. The phrase is to the matter. Pardon it Duke. Mended again: the matter ;-Proceed. 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! 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, Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended, He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself, And not have cut him off: Some one hath set you on; Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou cam'st here to complain. Isab. And is this all? Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, In countenance 64 !-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? 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. Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. F. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard 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. self; But at this instant he is sick, my lord, Of a strange fever: Upon his mere request, (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 man; (To justify this worthy nobleman, So vulgarly and personally accus'd,) Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it. Duke. Good friar, let's hear it. Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo ?— Of your own cause.-Is this the witness, friar? 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 somè cause To prattle for himself. Lucio. Well, my lord. 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 lord Angelo. Mari. Now I come to't, my lord: She, that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; With all the effect of love. Ang. Charges she more than me? Mari. Not that I know.. Duke. No? you say, your husband. Mari. Why, just, 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 strange abuse :-Let's see thy face. Mari. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [Unveiling. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which, once thou swor'st, was worth the looking on: This is the hand, which, with a vow'd contract, Was fast belock'd in thine: this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house, In her imagin'd person. Ang. My lord, I must confess, I know this woman; And, five years since, there was some speech of mar riage Betwixt myself and her: which was broke off, Partly, for that her promised proportions |