That thou neglect me not, with that Opinion, In all his Dreffings, Caracts, Titles, Forms, Duke. By mine Honefty, If the be mad, as I believe no other, Ifab. O gracious Duke, Harp not on that; nor do not banish Reason Duke. Many that are not mad Ifab. I am the Sifter of one Claudio, Was fent to by my Brother; one Lucio, Lucio. That's I, and't like your Grace: Ifab. That's he indeed. Duke. You were not bid to fpeak. Lucio. No, my good Lord, Nor wish'd to hold my peace. Pray you take note of it: And when you have A bufinefs for Be perfect. VOL. I. felf, pray Heav'n you then your felf, S [To Lucio. Lucio Lucio. I warrant your Honour. Duke. The Warrant's for your felf; take heed to't. Duke. It may be right, but you are i'th' wrong To this pernicious Caitiff Deputy. The Phrafe is to the Matter. Duke. Mended again: The Matter; proceed. For this was of much length; the vile Conclufion 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. [fpeak'ft; Duke, By Heav'n, fond Wretch, thou know'ft not what thou Or elfe thou art fuborn'd against his Honour In hateful Practice. Firft, his Integrity Stands without blemish; next, it imports no Reafon, Ifab. And is this all? Then oh you blessed Minifters above, Keep me in Patience; and with ripen'd time, In countenance: Heav'n fhield your Grace from Wo. Duke. Duke. I know you'd fain be gone. An Officer; To Prifon with her. Shall we thus permit A blafting and a fcandalous Breath to fall On him so near us? This needs must be a Practice. Ifab. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick 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 fwing'd him foundly. Duke. Words against me? This is a good Friar belike, And to fet on this wretched Women here Against our Substitute! Let this Friar be found. Lucio. But Yefternight, my Lord, she and that Friar, I fay them at the Prifon: A fawcy Friar, A very fcurvy Fellow. Peter. Bleffed be your Royal Grace! I have ftood by, my Lord, and I have heard Who is as free from touch or foil with her, Duke. We did believe no lefs. Know you that Friar Lodowick which she speaks of? 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 villanoufly; 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; Upon his meer Request, Being come to knowledge, that there was Complaint And all Probation, will make up full clear, S 2 Το To juftifie this worthy Nobleman, Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it. Do you not fmile at this, Lord Angelo? Of your own Caufe. Is this the Witness, Friar? First, let her fhew her Face, and after speak. Mari. Pardon, my Lord, I will not fhew my Face Until my Husband bid me. Duke. What, are you marry'd? Mari. No, my Lord. Duke. Are you a Maid? Mari. No, my Lord. Duke. A Widow then? Duke. Why, are you 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 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 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 fo too. Lucio. Well, my Lord. Duke. This is no Witnefs for Lord Angelo. Mari. Now I come to't, my Lord. Ang, Ang. Charges fhe more than me? Mari. Not that I know. Duke. No? you fay 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 Ifabel's. Ang. This is a ftrange Abufe: Let's fee thy Face. Mari. My Husband bids me; now I will unmak. [Unveiling. This is that Face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou fwor'ft was worth the looking on: 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; 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 Senfe 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 raife me from my Knees; A Marble Monument. Ang. I did but fmile 'till now. Now, good my Lord, give me the Scope of Justice; S3 Thefs |