Duke. Mended again: the matter;-Proceed. (For this was of much length,) the vile conclusion Release my brother; and, after much debatement, And I did yield to him: But the next morn be times, 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! 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 rea son, That with such vehemency he should pursue on; Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Isab. And is this all? Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, * How he refell'd me,] To refel is to refute. 5 My sisterly remorse-] i. e. pity. 6-fond wretch,] Fond wretch is foolish wretch. 7 In hateful practice:] Practice was used by the old writers for any unlawful or insidious stratagem. Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance!"-Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go! 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 medling friar; I do not like the man: had he been lay, my lord, And to set on this wretched woman here I saw them at the prison: a sawcy friar, F. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abus'd: First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute; Who is as free from touch or soil with her, As she from one ungot. We did believe no less. Duke. Know you that friar Lodowick, that she speaks of? F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy; • In countenance !] i. e. false appearance, hypocrisy. Not scurvy, nor a temporary medler, But at this instant he is sick, my lord, Of a strange fever: Upon his mere request, man; (To justify this worthy nobleman, 2 So vulgarly and personally accus'd,) Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Duke. Good friar, let's hear it. [ISABELLA is carried off, guarded; and MA- Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo?— 9 What, are you his mere request,] i. e. his absolute request. 1 Whensoever he's convented,] i. e. cited, summoned. 2 So vulgarly-] i. e. publickly. married? 3 In this I'll be impartial;] Impartial was sometimes used in the sense of partial. Why, you Are nothing then :-Neither maid, widow, nor wife? Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had some cause To prattle for himself. 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. She, that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; With all the 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: That took away the match from Isabel, Duke. Know you this woman? Lucio. Carnally, she says. Duke. Lucio. Enough, my lord. Sirrah, no more. Ang. My lord, I must confess, I know this wo man; And, five years since, there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Mari. Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven, and words from breath, As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, As words could make up vows: and, my good lord, 4 - her promised proportions Came short of composition;] Her fortune, which was promised proportionate to mine, fell short of the composition, that is, contract or bargain. JOHNSON. |