ACT V. SCENE I. A public Place near the City Gate. MARIANA, (veil'd,) ISABELLA, and PETER, at a distance. Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. Ang. You make my bonds still greater. Duke. O your desert speaks loud; and I should wrong it, To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves with characters of brass Friar PETER and ISABELLA come forward3. F. Peter. Now is your time. Speak loud, and kneel before him. 7 Give ME your hand,] "Give we your hand," first folio. Friar Peter and Isabella come forward.] The old copies say, "Enter Peter and Isabella ;" but they have been standing behind with Mariana, whose time for coming forward has not yet arrived. Isab. Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard9 Till you have heard me in my true complaint, And given me justice, justice, justice, justice! Duke. Relate your wrongs: in what? by whom? Be brief. Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice: Reveal yourself to him. Isab. O, worthy duke! You bid me seek redemption of the devil. Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak Or wring redress from you. Hear me, O, hear me, here! Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm: She hath been a suitor to me for her brother, Cut off by course of justice. Isab. By course of justice! Ang. And she will speak most bitterly, and strange. Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak. That Angelo's forsworn, is it not strange? That Angelo's a murderer, is't not strange? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violator, Is it not strange, and strange? Duke. Nay, it is ten times strange 1o. Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo, Than this is all as true as it is strange: Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth To th' end of reckoning. Duke. Away with her.-Poor soul! She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense. 9- VAIL your regard] To rail is to lower. 10 Nay, IT IS ten times strange.] So the folios. Malone and Steevens omit "it is" without warrant, and without notice. Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness: make not impossible In all his dressings, characts', titles, forms, Duke. By mine honesty, If she be mad, as I believe no other, Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, As e'er I heard in madness. O, gracious duke! Isab. To make the truth appear, where it seems hid, Duke. Many that are not mad, Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio Lucio. That's I, an't like your grace. I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her 1 characts,] i. e. Characters, or inscriptions. 2 And hide the false seems true.] Theobald and Monck Mason would read "Not hide the false seems true," but no change is required. Pray you, take note of it; and when you have Be perfect. I warrant your honour. you then Duke. The warrant's for yourself: take heed to it. Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. Lucio. Right. Duke. It may be right; but you are in the wrong To speak before your time.-Proceed. Isab. To this pernicious, caitiff deputy. Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken. The phrase is to the matter. I went Pardon it: Duke. Mended again: the matter?—Proceed. (For this was of much length) the vile conclusion Release my brother; and, after much debatement, My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother's head. Duke. This is most likely. Isab. O, that it were as like, as it is true! 30, that it were as like, as it is true!] The Duke says in derision, "This is most likely ;" and Isabel, finding the Duke's incredulity, insists upon the truth of her story, however improbable. 4 Duke. By heaven, fond wretch thou know'st not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour, Stands without blemish: next, it imports no reason, And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on: Thou cam'st here to complain. Isab. And is this all? Then, O! you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, In countenance !-Heaven shield your grace from woe, Duke. I know, you'd fain be gone.—An officer! To prison with her.-Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us? This needs must be a practice. Who knew of your intent, and coming hither? Isab. One that I would were here, friar Lodowick. Duke. A ghostly 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 swing'd him soundly. Duke. Words against me? This a good friar, belike! And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute!-Let this friar be found. Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar I saw them at the prison. A saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. 4 FOND wretch,] i. e. Foolish wretch. See note 5, p. 37. |