My fifterly Remorfe confutes mine Honour,
And I did yield to him: But the next morn betimes,
His purpose furfeiting, he fends a Warrant
brother's head.

For my poor

Duke. This is most likely!

Ifab. Oh, that it were as like, as it is true!
Duke. By heav'n, fond wretch, thou know'ft not
what thou speak'ft,

Or else thou art fuborn'd against his honour
In hateful practice. Firft, his integrity

Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason,
That with fuch vehemence he should purfue
Faults proper to himfelf: if he had fo offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himfelf,
And not have cut him off. Some one hath fet you on;
Confefs the truth, and say, 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

Grace from woe,

In countenance: Heay'n fhield your
As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go.
Duke. I know, you'd fain be gone. An officer;
Shall we thus permit
A blafting and a fcandalous breath to fall

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
Your royal ear abus'd. First, hath this woman
Moft wrongfully accus'd your Substitute;
Who is as free from touch or foil with her,
As fhe from one ungot.

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
Is true, and false; and what he with his oath
By all Probation will make up full clear,

Whenever he's convented.

First, for this woman;

To juftify this worthy Nobleman,

So vulgarly and perfonally accus'd,
Her fhall you hear difproved to her eyes,
'Till fhe herself confefs it.

Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it.

Do you not fmile at this, lord Angelo?
O heav'n! the vanity of wretched fools!-
Give us fome feats; come, Coufin Angelo,
In this I'll be impartial: be you judge
Of your own Cause.

Is this the witnefs, Friar?
[Ifabella is carried off, guarded.
E 4

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.
Mari. Now I come to`t, my lord.

She, that accufes him of fornication,

In felf-fame manner doth accuse 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.

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.
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 supply thee at thy garden-house
In her imagin'd perfon.

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;
Or elfe for ever be confixed here,

A marble monument!

Ang. I did but fmile 'till now.

E 5

Now,

Now, good my lord, give me the fcope of juftice;
My patience here is touch'd; I do perceive,
These poor informal women are no more

But inftruments of fome more mightier member,
That fets them on. Let me have way, my lord,
To find this practice out.

Duke. Ay, with my heart;

And punish them unto your height of pleasure.
Thou foolish Friar, and thou pernicious woman,
Compact with her that's gone; think'ft thou, thy
oaths,

Tho' they would fwear down each particular faint,
Were teftimonies 'gainst his worth and credit,
That's feal'd in approbation? You, lord Efcalus,
Sit with my coufin; lend him your kind pains
To find out this abuse, whence 'tis deriv'd.
There is another Friar, that fet them on;
Let him be sent for.

[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;
And he may fetch him.

Duke. Go, do it inftantly.

And you, my noble and well-warranted coufin,
Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth h;
Do with your injuries, as feems you beft,
In any chastisement: I for a while

Will leave you; but ftir you, not 'till you have well.
Determined upon thefe flanderers.

[Exit.

Efcal. Y lord, we'll do it throughly, Signior
MY
Lucio, did not you fay, you knew that
Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?

Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum; honeftin nothing,

but