Mari. Gentle, my liege Duke. You do but lofe Away with him to death.

your labour: Now, Sir, to you. Mari. Oh, my good lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I'll lend you all my life, and do you fervice. Duke. Against all fenfe you do importune her; Should the kneel down, in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror.

Mari. Ijabel,

Sweet Ifabel, do yet but kneel by me;

Hold up your hands, fay nothing; I'll speak all.
They say, best men are moulded out of faults;
And, for the most, become much more the better.
For being a little bad: fo may my husband.
Oh, Ifabel! will you not lend a knee ?

Duke He dies for Claudio's death.

Ifab. Moft bounteous Sir,

[Kneeling.

Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
As if my brother liv'd: I partly think,

A due fincerity govern'd his deeds,

'Till he did look on me; fince it is fo,

Let him not die. My brother had but juftice,
In that he did the thing for which he dy'd;

For Angelo, his act did not o'ertake his bad intent ;
And must be bury'd but as an intent,

That perifh'd by the way: thoughts are no fubjects:
Intents, but merely thoughts.

Mari. Merely, my lord.

Duke. Your fuit's unprofitable; ftand up, I say:

I have bethought me of another fault.

Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded

At an unusual hour?

Prov. It was commanded fo.

Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed? Prov. No, my good lord; it was by private meffage. Duke. For which I do discharge you of Give up your keys.

your office:

Prov. Pardon me, noble lord.

I thought, it was a fault, but knew it not;
Yet did repent me, after more advice:
For teftimony whereof, one in the prifon,
That should by private order elfe have dy'd,
I have referv'd alive.

Duke. What's he?

Prov. His name is Barnardine.

Duke, I would, thou hadst done so by Claudio:
Go, fetch him hither; let me look upon him.
Efcal. I'm forry, one fo learned and fo wife
As you, lord Angelo, have ftill appear'd,
Should flip fo grofly both in heat of blood,
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.

Ang. I'm forry, that fuch forrow I procure;
And fo deep fticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy:
'Tis my deferving, and I do intreat it.

SCENE VII.

Enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Julietta. HICH is that Barnardine?

Duke. W Prov. This, my lord.

Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man: Sirrah, thou'rt faid to have a stubborn foul, That apprehends no further than this world; And fquar'ft thy life accordingly: thou'rt condemn'd; But for thofe earthly faults, I quit them all:

I pray thee, take this mercy to provide

For better times to come: Friar, advise him; [that? I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow's Prov. This is another prifoner, that I fav'd,

Who fhould have dy'd when Claudio loft his head; As like almoft to Claudio, as himself.

Duke. If he be like your brother, for his fake. [To Ifa. Is he pardon'd; and for your lovely fake,

Give

Give me your hand, and say, you will be mine,
He is my brother too; but fitter time for that.
By this, lord Angelo perceives he's fafe;
Methinks, I fee a quick'ning in his eye.
Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well;

[yours.

Look, that you love your wife; her worth works
I find an apt remiffion in myself,

And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon.
You, firrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, [To Luc.
One of all luxury, an afs, a mad-man;

Wherein have I deferved fo of you,

That you extol me thus ?

Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick; if you will hang me for it, you may but I had rather it would please you, I might be whipt. Duke. Whipt first, Sir, and hang'd after. Proclaim it, Provoft, round about the city; If any woman, wrong'd by this lewd fellow, (As I have heard him fwear himself, there's one Whom he begot with child) let her appear, And he shall marry her; the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipt and hang'd.

Lucio. I befeech your highnefs, do not marry me to a whore: your highness faid even now, I made you a duke; good my lord, do not recompence me, in making me a cuckold.

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt Thy flanders I forgive, and therewithal

marry her:

Remit thy other forfeits; take him to prifon:
And see our pleasure herein executed.

Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is preffing to death; whipping and hanging.

Duke. Sland'ring a prince deferves it.

She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look, you restore. Joy to you, Mariana: love her, Angelo:

I have confefs'd her, and I know her virtue.

Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: There's more behind, that is more gratulate.

Thanks

Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrefy;
We shall employ thee in a worthier place:
Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's ;

Th' offence pardons itself. Dear Ifabel,
I have a motion much imports your good,
Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline,

What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine:
So bring us to our palace, where we'll show

What's yet behind, that's meet You all fhould know.

[Exeunt omnes.