SCENE I-A public Place near the City Gate. MARIANA, (reil'd.) ISABELLA, and PETER, at a distance. Enter at several doors, DUKE, VARRIUS, Lords: ANGELO, ESCALUS, LUCIO, Provost, Officers, and Citizens.

Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met:Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. Ang. and Escal. Happy return be to your royal grace!

Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you; and we hear Such goodness of your justice, that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, Forerunning more requital.

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
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time,
And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand,
And let the subject see, to make them know
That outward courtesies would fain proclaim
Favours that keep within.-Come, Escalus;
You must walk by us on our other hand,
And good supporters are you.

Friar PETER, and ISABELLA come forward. F. Peter. Now is your time. Speak loud, and kneel before him.

Tsab. Justice, O royal duke! Vail your regard Upon a wrong'd, I would fain have said, a maid! worthy prince! dishonour not your eye

By throwing it on any other object,
Fill you have heard me m my me 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.

Ts. b.
. wth duke!
Yon bid me keek redemption of the devil.

Tear me toneel, fin that which I must speak Must either punish me, not being belier 'd,

1 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 1 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.

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.
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 impos-
sible

That which but seems unlike. 'Tis not impossible,
But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,
As Angelo; even so may Angelo,

In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villam. Believe it, royal prince:
If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more,
Had I more name for badness.

Duke.
By mine hor
If she be mad, as I believe no other.
Her madness hath the oddest fre
Such a dependency of thi~!
As e'er I heard in madn

Isab

Harp not on that; 1

For inequality; bi
To make the trut
And hide the fals

Lucio. Well, my lord.

Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married; And, I confess, besides, I am no maid:

I have 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 silence, 'would thou wert so 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; And charges him, my lord, with such a time, When, I'll depose, I had him in mine arms, With all th' effect of love.

Ang.

Charges she more than me? Mari. Not that I know. Duke. No? you say, your husband. Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks, he knows, that he ne'er knew my body, But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel's.

Ang. This is a strange abuse.-Let's see thy face.

Mari. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [Unveiling.

This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,

Which once, thou swor'st, was worth the looking

on:

Ang. I did but smile till now: Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice; My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive, These poor informal women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member, That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, To find this practice out.

Duke. Ay, with my heart; And punish them to your height of pleasure.-— Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman, Compact with her that's gone, think'st thou, thy

oaths,

Though they would swear down each particular saint,

Were testimonies against his worth and credit,
That's seal'd in approbation ?-You, lord Escalus,
Sit with my cousin : lend him your kind pains
To find out this abuse, whence 'tis deriv'd.—
There is another friar that set them on;
Let him be sent for.

F. Peter. Would he were here, my lord; for he, indeed,

Hath set the women on to this complaint.
Your provost knows the place where he abides,
And he may fetch him.

[Exit Provost.

Duke. Go, do it instantly.—
And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,
Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,
Do with your injuries as seems you best,
In any chastisement: I for a while

Will leave you; but stir not you, till you have well
Determined upon these slanderers.

Escal. My lord, we'll do it thoroughly.-[Exit DUKE.]-Signior Lucio, did not you say, you knew that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?

Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum: honest in nothing, but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the duke.

Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him. We shall find this friar a notable fellow.

Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word.

Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again :[To an Attendant.]—I would speak with her. Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see how I'll handle her.

Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report.
Escal. Say you?

Lucio. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly she'll be ashamed.

Re-enter officers, with ISABELLA: the DUKE, in a Friar's habit, and Provost.

Escal. I will go darkly to work with her. Lucio. That's the way; for women are light at midnight.

Escal. Come on, mistress.-[To ISABELLA.]— Here's a gentlewoman denies all that you have said.

Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal 1 spoke of; here, with the provost.

Escal. In very good time :-speak not you to him, till we call upon you.

Lucio. Mum.

Escal. Come, sir. Did you set these women on to slander lord Angelo? they have confess'd you did. Duke. 'Tis false.

Escal. How! know you where you are?

Duke. Respect to your great place! and let the devil

To the duke himself, to tax him with injustice?— Take him hence; to the rack with him:-We'll touze you

Joint by joint, but we will know his purpose.—
What! unjust?

Duke. Be not so hot; the duke dare
No more stretch this finger of mine, than he
Dare rack his own: his subject am I not,
Nor here provincial. My business in this state
Made me a looker-on here in Vienna,

Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble,
Till it o'er-run the stew: laws for all faults,
But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong

statutes

Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,
As much in mock as mark.

Escal. Slander to the state! Away with him to prison.

Ang. What can you vouch against him, signior Lucio?

Is this the man that you did tell us of?

Lucio. 'Tis he, my lord.-Come hither, goodman bald-pate? do you know me?

Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice: I met you at the prison, in the absence of the duke.

Lucio. O did you so? what you said of the duke? Duke. Most notedly, sir. Lucio. Do you so, sir! fleshmonger, a fool, and a reported him to be?

And do you remember

And was the duke a coward, as you then

Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make that my report: you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse.

Lucio. O, thou damnable fellow! Did not I pluck thee by the nose, for thy speeches?

Duke. I protest, I love the duke as I love myself. Ang. Hark how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses.

Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withal: Away with him to prison.-Where is the provost ? -Away with him to prison. Lay bolts enough upon him, let him speak no more.-Away with those giglots too, and with the other confederate companion. [The Provost lays hand on the Duke. Duke. Stay, sir; stay a while.

Ang. What! resists he? Help him, Lucio.

Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh! sir. Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal! you must be hooded, must you? show your knave's visage,

Must have a word anon.-Lay hold on him.
Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging.
Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon; sit you
down.
[To ESCALUS.

We'll borrow place of him :-Sir, by your leave.
[TO ANGELO.
Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
That yet can do thee office? If thou hast,
Rely upon it till my tale be heard,

And hold no longer out.

Ang.

O, my dread lord!

I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,

To think I can be undiscernible,

When I perceive your grace,

like power divine,

Hath look'd upon my passes: Then, good prince,
No longer session hold upon my shame,

But let my trial be mine own confession :
Immediate sentence then, and sequent death,
Is all the grace I beg.

Duke.
Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman?
Ang. I was, my lord.

Come hither, Mariana.

Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly.

Do you the office, friar; which consummate,
Return him here again.-Go with him, provost.
[Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, PETER, and
Provost.

Escal. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonour, Than at the strangeness of it.

Duke. Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince: as I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney'd at your service.

Isab.

O, give me pardon, That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty!

Duke.

You are pardon'd, Isabel: And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart; And you may marvel, why I obscur'd myself, Labouring to save his life, and would not rather, Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power, Than let him so be lost. O, most kind maid! It was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain'd my purpose: but, peace be with