My fifterly Remorfe confutes mine Honour, For my poor Duke. This is most likely! Ifab. Oh, that it were as like, as it is true! Or else thou art fuborn'd against his honour Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason, Ifab. And is this all? Then, oh, you bleffed minifters above! Grace from woe, In countenance: Heay'n fhield your To prifon with her. 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 meddling 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 woman here Againft our fubftitute! let this Friar be found. Lucio. But yefternight, my lord, she and that Friar, I faw them at the prison: a faucy Friar, A very fcurvy fellow. Peter. Bleffed be your royal Grace! I have flood by, my lord, and I have heard Duke. We did believe no less. Know you that Friar Lodowick, which she speaks of? Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, 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 strange fever. On his mere request, (Being come to knowledge that there was Complaint Intended 'gainst lord Angelo) came I hither To fpeak as from his mouth, what he doth know Whenever he's convented. First, for this woman; To juftify this worthy Nobleman, So vulgarly and perfonally accus'd, Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it. Do you not fmile at this, lord Angelo? Is this the witnefs, Friar? SCENE. Firft let her fhew her face; and, after speak. Mari. Pardon, my lord, I will not shew 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, fhe may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had some cause 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. For the benefit of filence, would thou wert fo too. Lucio. Well, my lord. Duke. This is no witnefs for lord Angelo. She, that accufes him of fornication, In felf-fame manner doth accuse my husband; Ang. Charges fhe more than me? Duke. 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 abuse; let's fee thy face. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Duke. Know you this woman? Lucio. Carnally, she says. Duke. Sirrah, no more. Lucio. Enough, my lord. Ang. My lord, I must confess, 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 promised proportions Came fhort of compofition; but, in chief, For that her Reputation was difvalu'd In levity; fince which time of five years I never fpake 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 fense in truth, and truth in virtue, I am affianc'd this man's wife, as ftrongly 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 raise me from my knees; A marble monument! Ang. I did but fmile 'till now. E 5 Now, Now, good my lord, give me the fcope of juftice; But inftruments of fome more mightier member, Duke. Ay, with my heart; And punish them unto your height of pleasure. Tho' they would fwear down each particular faint, [deed, Peter. Would he were here, my lord; for he, inHath fet the woman on to this complaint: Your Provost knows the place, where he abides; Duke. Go, do it inftantly. And you, my noble and well-warranted coufin, Will leave you; but ftir you, not 'till you have well. [Exit. Efcal. Y lord, we'll do it throughly, Signior Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum; honeftin nothing, but |