Duke. Nay, ten times ftrange. Ifab. It is not truer he is Angelo, Than this is all as true as it is ftrange: Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth Duke. Away with her: poor foul, She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense, Ifab. O, I conjure thee, prince, as thou believ❜ft There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness. Make not impoffible In all his dreffings, characts, titles, forms, Duke. By mine honour, If fhe be mad, as I believe no other, Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Ifab. Gracious duke, Harp not on that; and do not banish reafon For inequality; but let your reafon Serve to make truth appear where it seems hid, Not hide the false feems true. Duke. Many not mad Have, fure, more lack of reason. What would you fay? Was fent to by my brother; one Lucio being As As then the messenger, 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, Ifab. That's he, indeed. Duke. You were not bid to speak. [To Lucio. Lucio. No, my good lord, nor wish'd to hold my peace. Duke. I wish you now then; Pray you, take note of it: and when you have A business for yourself, pray heav'n you then Be perfect. Lucio. I warrant your honour, fir. Duke. The warrant's for yourself; be fure, take heed to't. Ifab. This gentleman told fomething of my tale. Lucio. Right. Duke. It may be right, but you are in the wrong To speak before your time. Proceed. Ifab. I went To this pernicious caitiff deputy. Duke. That's fomewhat madly spoken. The phrase is to the matter. Duke. Mended again: the matter then; proceed. For this was of much length) the vile conclufion Duke. Duke. This is most likely! Ifab. O 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 Stands without blemish; it imports no reason, Offended, he would have weigh'd thy brother by Then, o you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, In countenance! Heav'n fhield your grace from wo, Duke. I know, you'd fain be gone. An officer! 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 not like the man; had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he fpake against your grace In your retirement, I had fwing'd him soundly. 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 yefternight, my lord, fhe and that friar, Peter. Peter. Blefs'd be your grace! I have ftood by, my lord, and I have heard Duke. We did believe No lefs. Know you that friar Lodowick? 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 truft, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, mifreport your grace. Lucio. My lord, moft villanoufly he did; 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 requeft, Being come to knowledge that there was complaint To fpeak, as from his mouth, what he doth know By all probation will make up full clear, 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? [Ifabella is carried off, guarded. SCENE First, let her show her face, and, after, speak. 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 fome cause to prattle for himself. Lucio. Well, my lord. Mari. My lord, I do confess 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 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 th' effect of love. Ang. Charges fhe more Than me? |