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Duke. Left her in her tears, and dry'd not one of " them with his comfort ; swallowed his vows whole, pretending, in her, discoveries of dishonour: in few, bestowed* her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not.
Isab. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live !—But how out of this can she avail ?
Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal : and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.
Isab. Show me how, good father.
Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection ; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo; answer his requiring with a plausible obedience : agree with his demands to the point: only refert yourself to this advantage,-first, that your stay with him may not be long; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience: this being granted in course, now follows all. Weshalladvise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense : and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled I. The maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it?
Isab. The image of it gives me content already ; and, I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. * Gave her up to her sorrows.
+ Have recourse to. Over-reached.
Duke. It lies much in your holding up: haste you speedily to Angelo ; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to St. Luke's; there, at the moated grange*, resides this dejected Mariana: at that place call upon me; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.
Isab. I thank you for this comfort: fare you well, good father.
[Exeunt severally. . SCENE II.
The street before the prison.
and Officers. Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard t..
Duke. O heavens ! what stuff is here?
Clo. 'Twas never merry world, since, of two usuries, the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him warm ; and furr’d with fox and lamb-skins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.
Elb. Come your way, sir :--Bless you, good father friar. .
Duke. And you, good brother father : What offence hath this man made you, sir?
Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir ; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock I, which we have sent to the deputy.
Duke. Fie, sirrah ; a bawd, a wicked bawd ! The evil that thou causest to be done, That is thy means to live : do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back, From such a filthy vice : say to thyself, * A solitary farn-bouse. + A sweet wine. For a Spanish padlock,
From their abominable and beastly touches
Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but
So Clo. Indeedid prove-vil have given
Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs
for sin, Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer ; Correction and instruction must both work, Ere this rude beast will profit,
Elb. He must before the deputy, sir ; he has given him warning: the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster : if he be a whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be, Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, free!
Enter Lucio. Elb. His neck will come to your waist, a cord *, sir.
Clo. I spy comfort; I cry, bail : here's a gentleman, and a friend of mine.
Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the heels of Cæsar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now, for putting the hand in the pocket, and extracting it clutch'd ? What reply? Ha? What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method ? Is't not drown'd i' the last rain ? Ha ? What say'st thou, trot? Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way? Is it sad, and few words? Or how? The trick of it ?
Duke. Still thus, and thus ! still worse !
Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress? Procures she still ? Ha?
Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tubt:
* Tied like your waist with a rope. + Powdering tub.