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 to 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 Saint,
Were Teftimonies 'gainft 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 Abufe, whence 'tis deriv'd.
There is another Friar that fet them on;

Let him be fent for.

Peter. Would he were here, my Lord; for he indeed Hath fet the Women on to this Complaint:

Your Provost knows the Place where he abides;
And he may fetch him.

Duke, Go, do it instantly.

And you my noble and well warranted Coufin,
Whom it concerns to hear this Matter forth,
Do with your Injuries as feems you beft
In any Chaftisement: I for a while

Will leave you; but ftir not you, 'till you have
Well determin'd upon thefe Slanderers,

[Exit. Efcal, My Lord, we'll do it throughly. Siginor Lucio, did not you fay, you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a difhoneft Perfon?

Lucio. Cucullus non facit Monachum; honeft in nothing but in his Cloaths, and one that hath spoke most villanous Speeches of the Duke.

Efcal. We fhall intreat you to abide here 'till he come, and inforce them against him; we shall find this Friar a nota→ ble Fellow.

Lucia. As any in Vienna, on my Word,

Efcal. Call that fame Isabel here once again; I would fpeak with her: Pray you, my Lord, give me leave to question; you shall fee 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 should fooner confefs; perchance publickly fhe'd be afham'd.

Enter Duke in the Friar's Habit, Provost and Isabella. Efcal. I will go darkly to work with her. Lucio. That's the way; for Women are light at Midnight.

Efcal. Come on, Miftrefs: Here's a Gentlewoman denies all that you have faid.

Lucio. My Lord, here comes the Rafcal I spoke of, Here with the Provoff.

Efcal. In very good time: Speak not you to him 'till we call upon you.

Lucio. Mum,

Efcal, Come, Sir, did you fet these Women on to flander Lord Angelo? They have confefs'd you did.

Duke. 'Tis falfe.

Efcal. How? Know you where you are?

Duke. Refpe&t to your great Place; and let the Devil Be fometime honour'd for his burning Throne. Where is the Duke? 'Tis he should hear me fpeak.

Efcal. The Duke's in us; and we will hear you speak: Look you speak justly.

Duke. Boldly at leaft. But oh, poor Souls,
Come you to feek the Lamb here of the Fox?
Good-night to your Redress: Is the Duke gone?
Then is your Caufe too. The Duke's unjuft,
Thus to retort your manifeft Appeal,
And put your Trial in the Villain's Mouth
Which here you come to accufe.

Lucio. This is the Rafcal; this is he I spoke of,
Efcal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd Friar,
Is't not enough thou haft fuborn'd thefe Women
To accufe this worthy Man, but in foul Mouth,
And in the witnefs of his proper Ear,

To call him Villain; and then to glance from him
To th' Duke himself; to tax him with Injuftice?
Take him hence; to th' Rack with him; We'll touze you
Joint by Joint, but we will know his Purpose:
What? Unjuft?

Duke. Be not fo hot; the Duke dare
No more ftretch 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 fo countenanc'd, that the strong Statutes
Stand like the Forfeits in a Barber's Shop,
As much in Mock as Mark.

Efcal. Slander to th❜State!
Away with him to Prifon.

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 Baldpate: Do you know me?

Duke. I remember you, Sir, by the found of your Voice: I met you at the Prifon in the Abfence of the Duke. Lucia. Oh, did you fo? And do you remember what you faid of the Duke?

Duke. Moft notedly, Sir.

Lucio. Do you fo, Sir? And was the Duke a Flesh-monger, a Fool, and a Coward, as you then reported him to be?

Duke. You muft, Sir, change Perfons with me, e'er you make that my Report: You indeed spoke so of him, and much more, much worse.

Lucio. Oh thou damnable Fellow! did not I pluck thee by the Nofe for thy Speeches?

Duke. I proteft, I love the Duke as I love my self.

Ang. Hark how the Villain would close now after his treasonable Abuses.

Efcal. Such a Fellow is not to be talk'd withal: Away with him to Prifon: Where is the Provoft? Away with him to Prifon; lay Bolts enough upon him; let him fpeak no more; away with those Giglets too, and with the other confede rate Companion.

Duke. Stay, Sir, ftay a while.

Ang. What, refifts he? Help him, Lucio.

Lucio. Come Sir, come Sir, come Sir; foh, Sir; why, you bald-pated lying Rascal; you must be hooded, muft you?

Show

Show your Knave's Vifage, with a Pox to you; fhow your
fheep-biting Face, and be hanged an Hour: Will't not off?
[Pulls off the Friars Hood, and discovers the Duke.
Duke. Thou art the firft Knave that e'er mad'st a Duke,
First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three.
Sneak not away, Sir; for the Fiar and you
Must have a word anon: Lay hold on him.
Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging.
Duke, What you have spoke, I pardon; fit you down:
[To Efcalus.
We'll borrow place of him; Sir, by your Leave:
Haft thou or Word, or Wit, or Impudence,
That yet can do thee Office? If thou haft,
Rely upon it 'till my Tale be heard,
And hold no longer out.

Ang. Oh my dread Lord,

I fhould be guiltier than my Guiltiness,
To think I can be undifcernable,

When I perceive your Grace, like Power divine,
Hath look'd upon my Paffes: Then, good Prince,
No longer Seffion hold upon my Shame;
But let my Trial be mine own Confeffion :
Immediate Sentence then, and fequent Death,
Is all the Grace I beg.

Duke, Come hither, Mariana:

Say; was't thou ever contracted to this Woman?
Ang. I was, my Lord,

Do

Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her inftantly. you the Office, Friar; which confummate,

Return him here again: Go with him, Provost.

[Exeunt Angelo, Mariana and Provost,

Efcal. My Lord, I am more amaz'd at his Difhonour, Than at the ftrangeness of it.

Duke. Come hither, Ifabel;

Your Friar is now your Prince: As I was then

Advertising, and holy to your Business,

Not changing Heart with Habit, I am still

Attornied at your Service.

Ifab. Oh give me Pardon,

That I, your Vaffal, have employ'd and pain'd

Your unknown Sovereignty.

Duke. You are pardon'd, Ifabel:

And now, dear Maid, be you as free to us.

You

Your Brother's Death, I know, fits at your Heart:
And you may marvel why I obfcur'd my felf,
Labouring to fave his Life; and would not rather
Make rash Remonftrance of my hidden Power;
Then let him be fo loft: Oh most kind Maid,
It was the swift Celerity of his Death,
Which I did think with flower foot came on,
That brain'd my purpose: But Peace be with him.
That Life is better Life, paft fearing Death,

Than that which lives to Fear: Make it your Comfort,
So happy is your Brother.

Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Provost.

Ifab. I do, my Lord.

Duke. For this new-marry'd Man, approaching here, Whose falt Imagination yet hath wrong'd

Your well-defended Honour; you must pardon

For Mariana's Sake: But as he adjudg'd your Brother,
Being Criminal, in double violation

Of facred Chastity, and of Promife-breach,
Thereon dependant for your Brother's Life,
The very Mercy of the Law cries out
Moft audible, even from his proper Tongue,
An Angelo for Claudio; Death for Death:
Hafte ftill pays hafte, and leisure answers leifure;
Like doth quit like, and Meafure ftill for Measure.
Then, Angelo, thy Faults are manifefted;

Which tho' thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage.
We do condemn thee to the very Block

Where Claudio ftoop'd to Death; and with like hafte,
Away with him.

Mari. Oh my moft gracious Lord,

I hope you will not mock me with a Husband?

Duke. It is your Husband mock'd you with a Husband. Confenting to the Safeguard of your Honour,

I thought your Marriage fit; elfe Imputation,
For that he knew you, might reproach your Life,
And choak your good to come: For his Poffeffions,
Altho' by Confifcation they are ours,

We do enftate, and Widow you withal,
To buy you a better Husband.

Mari. Oh my dear Lord,

I crave no other, nor no better Man.

Duke.