These poor informal Women are no more But Inftruments of fome more mightier Member Duke. Ay, with my Heart; And punish them to your height of Pleasure. Let him be fent for, Peter. Would he were here, my Lord; for he indeed Your Provost knows the Place where he abides; Duke. Go, do it instantly. And you my noble and well warranted Coufin, Will leave you; but ftir not you, 'till you have [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 moft villanous Speeches of the Duke. Efcal, We shall intreat you to abide here 'till he come, and inforce them against him; we fhall find this Friar a nota→ ble Fellow. Lucia. As any in Vienna, on my Word, Efcal. Call that fame Ifabel 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 fhe fhould fooner confefs; perchance publickly fhe'd be afham'd. Enter Duke in the Friar's Habit, Provoft and Ifabella. 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 Rascal I fpoke of, Here with the Provoft. Efcal. In very good time: Speak not you to him 'till we call upon you. Lucio. Mum, Efcal, Come, Sir, did you fet thefe 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 fhould 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, Lucio. This is the Rafcal; this is he I spoke of, To call him Villain; and then to glance from him Duke. Be not fo hot; the Duke dare Where I have seen Corruption boil and bubble, Efcal. Slander to th❜State! 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. Lucio. 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 must, 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 clofe 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 speak 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 Rafcal; you must be hooded, muft you? Show Show your Knave's Vifage, with a Pox to you; fhow your Ang. Oh my dread Lord, I fhould be guiltier than my Guiltiness, When I perceive your Grace, like Power divine, Duke. Come hither, Mariana: Say; was't thou ever contracted to this Woman? Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her inftantly. Return him here again: Go with him, Provoft. [Exeunt Angelo, Mariana and Provost, Efcal. My Lord, I am more amaz'd at his Dishonour, 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 Bufinefs, 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 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: Than that which lives to Fear: Make it your Comfort, Enter Angelo, Maria, Peter, Provost. Ifab. I do, my Lord. Duke. For this new-marry'd Man, approaching here, Whofe falt Imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well-defended Honour; you must pardon For Mariana's Sake: But as he adjudg'd your Brother, Of facred Chastity, and of Promife-breach, Which tho' thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. Where Claudio ftoop'd to Death; and with like haste, 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, We do enftate, and Widow you withal, Mari. Oh my dear Lord, I crave no other, nor no better Man. Duke. |