But let my trial be mine own confession : Duke. Come hither, Mariana. Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. Return him here again. Go with him, provost. 380 [Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Friar Peter, and Provost. Escal. My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour Than at the strangeness of it. Duke. Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince: as I was then Not changing heart with habit, I am still Isab. O, give me pardon, That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty! Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel That brain'd my purpose. But, peace be with him! Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort, Isab. I do, my lord. 390 400 Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and PROVOST. Duke. For this new-married man approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudged your brother, Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach Thereon dependent, for your brother's life, The very mercy of the law cries out 410 Most audible, even from his proper tongue, "An Angelo for Claudio, death for death !" Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and MEASURE still FOR MEASURE. Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. 420 Away with him! Mari. O my most gracious lord, Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, We do instate and widow you withal, To buy you a better husband. Mari. O my dear lord, 430 [Kneeling. I crave no other, nor no better man. Duke. Duke. Against all sense you do importune her: Isabel, Mari. 440 Most bounteous sir, [Kneeling. | Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd, As if my brother lived: I partly think A due sincerity govern'd his deeds, Till he did look on me: since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice, His act did not o'ertake his bad intent, 450 That perish'd by the way thoughts are no subjects ; Mari. Merely, my lord. Duke. Your suit's unprofitable; stand 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 so. Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed? Prov. Duke. Prov. What's he? 460 470 His name is Barnardine. Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. [Exit Provost. As you, Lord Angelo, have still appear'd, Ang. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure : And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart 480 Re-enter PROVOST, with BARNARDINE, CLAUDIO muffled, and JULIET. Duke. Which is that Barnardine? Prov. This, my lord. Duke. There was a friar told me of this man. Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul, That apprehends no further than this world, And squarest thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd: And pray thee take this mercy to provide For better times to come. Friar, advise him; 490 I leave him to your hand. What muffled fellow 's that? Prov. This is another prisoner that I saved, Who should have died when Claudio lost his head; As like almost to Claudio as himself. [Unmuffles Claudio. Duke. [To Isabella] If he be like your brother, for his sake Is he pardon'd; and, for your lovely sake, Give me your hand and say you will be mine, He is my brother too: but fitter time for that. Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours. I find an apt remission in myself; And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. 500 [To Lucio] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury, an ass, a madman ; Wherein have I so deserved 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 hanged after. Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore. Your highness said even now, I made you a duke: good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits. Take him to prison; Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it. 530 [Exeunt Officers with Lucio. She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo: I have confess'd her and I know her virtue. Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: Dear Isabel, 540 |