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Isab. Moft ftrange, but yet most truly, will I speak; That Angelo's forsworn, is it not strange? That Angelo's a murth'rer, is't not strange? That Angelo is an adult'rous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violater; Is it not ftrange, and strange?
Duke. Nay, it is ten times ftrange.
Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo,
Duke. Away with her: poor soul,
Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not; with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness. Make not im
Duke. By mine honesty,
Isab. Gracious Duke,
Duke. Many, that are not mad,
Ifab. Ifab. I am the fifter of one Claudio, Condemn'd upon
the act of fornication To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo : 1, in probation of a fifterhood, Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio, As then the messenger, Lucio. That's I, an't like
Ifab. That's he, indeed.
Duke. It may be right, but you are in the wrong To speak before your time. Proceed.
Ifab. I went
Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken.
Duke. Mended again: the matter ;--proceed.
Isab. In brief; (to set the needless Process by, How I persuaded, how I pray'd and kneelid, How he repelld me, and how I reply'd ; For this was of much length) the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter. He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscent intemp'rate luft, Release my brother; and after much debatement,
My fifterly Remorfe confutes mine Honour,
Duke. "This is most likely!
what thou speak'it,
Ifab. And is this all? Then, oh, you blessed ministers above ! Keep me in patience; and with ripen'd time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance: Heav’n shield your Grace from woc, 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 meddling Friar; I do not like the man; had he been Lay, my lord, For certain words he fpake against your Grace In
your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly.
Þuke. Words against me? this is a good Friar, belike; And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute! let this Friar be found.
Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that Friar,
Peter. Blessed be your royal Grace!
Duke. We did believe no less.
Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy;
Lucio. My lord, most villanously; believe it.
Peter. Well; he in time may come to clear himself;
Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it.
Isabella is carried off, guarded.
Enter Mariana veil'd.
Mari. Pardon, my lord, I will not shew my face,
husband bid me.
Duke. Why, are you 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 marry'd;
Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord; it can be no better.
Duke. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert fo too.
Lucio. Well, my lord.
Mari. Now I come to‘t, my lord.
Ang. Charges she more than me?