Ifab. Gracious Duke,

Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason
For inequality; but let your reafon ferve

To make the truth appear, where it seems hid;
Not hide the falfe, feems true.

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

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

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 wifh'd to hold my

peace.

Duke. I wish 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. Ifab. 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 needlefs process by,

How

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 chafte 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 moft 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'st;

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 pursue
Faults proper to himself; if he had fo offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on;
Confefs the truth, and fay, by whofe 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 fcandalous 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?

Lucio. My Lord, I know him; 'tis a medling Friar;

I do

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 woman here

Against our fubftitute! let this Friar be found.

Lucio. But yefernight, my Lord, fhe and that Friar, I faw them at the prifon a fawcy Friar, A very feurvy fellow.

Peter. Bleffed be your royal Grace!

I have flood by, my Lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd. Fift, hath this woman
Moft wrongfully accus'd your fubftitute;
Who is as free from touch or foil with her,
As the from one ungot.

Duke. We did believe no lefs.

Know you that Friar Lodowick, which fhe fpeaks of? Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy; Not fcurvy, nor a temporary medier,

As he's reported by this gentleman;

And, on my trust, 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 strange fever. On his mere request,
(Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainft Lord Angelo) came I hither
To fpeak 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 conven'd. First, for this woman;
To jaftify this worthy nobleman,

So vulgarly and perfonally accus'd,

Her fhall you here difproved to her eyes. 'Till fhe herself confefs it.

Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it.

Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?
O heav'n! the vanity of wretched fools.-

Give us fome feats; come, coufin Angelo, (29)
In this I will be partial: be you judge

Of your own caufe. Is this the witnefs, Friar?

[Ifabella is carried off, guarded.

Enter Mariana veiled.

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

Mari. Neither, my Lord.

Duke. Why, are you nothing then? neither maid, widow, nor wife?

Lucio. My Lord, the 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 confess besides, I am no maid;

I've known my husband; yet my husband knows not, That ever he knew me.

(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,
Which here you come t' accufe.-

I think, there needs no ftronger authority to convince, that the Poet must have wrote as I have corrected;

In this I will be partial;

Lucio. 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 Angelos

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

She, that accufes him of fornication,

In felf-fame manner doth accufe my husband;
And charges him, my Lord, with fuch a time.
When I'll depose 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 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 strange abufe; 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 Isabel;

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 speech 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 dif-valu'd
In levity: fince which time of five years
VOL. I.

I never