must you? show your knave's visage, with a pox to you; show your sheep-biting face, and be hang'd; an hour ? will't not off?

[Pulls off the Friar's bood, and discovers the Duke. Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er mad'st a Duke. First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three. Sneak not away, Sir; for the Friar and you Must have a word anon: lay hold on him.

[To Lucio.

Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging.
Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon; fit you down:

[To Escalus.

We'll borrow place of him. Sir, by your leave: [To Ang.
Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence,
That yet can do thee office? if thou hast,
Rely upon it 'till my tale be heard,

And hold no longer out.

Ang. Oh my dread lord,
I should be guiltier than my guiltiness,
To think I can be undifcernable,

When I perceive your Grace, like pow'r divine,
Hath look'd upon my paffes: then, good Prince,
No longer session hold upon my shame;
But let my tryal be mine own confeffion:
Immediate sentence then, and sequent death,
Is all the grace I beg.

Duke. Come hither, Mariana: say; wast thou
Contracted to this woman?

Ang. I was, my lord..

Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly.

Do you the office, Friar; which consummate,
Return him here again: go with him, Provoft.

[Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.

SCENE V.

Efcal. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonour,

Than at the strangeness of it.

Duke. Come hither, Ifabel;

Your Friar is now your Prince: as I was then

Advertising, all holy, to your business,

Not changing heart with habit, I am still

Attornied Attornied at your service.

Ifab. Oh, give me pardon,
That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd
Your unknown Sovereignty.

Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel:
And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
Your brother's death, I know, fits at your heart:
And you may marvel why I obscur'd my self,
Labouring to save his life; and would not rather
Make rash remonftrance of my hidden power,
Than let him be so lost: O most kind maid,
It was the swift celerity of his death,
(Which I did think with flower foot came on)
That brain'd my purpose: but now peace be with him!
That life is better life, past fearing death,

Than that which lives to fear: make it your comfort,
So happy is your brother.

SCENE VI.

Enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.

Ifab. I do, my lord.

Duke. For this new-marry'd man, approaching here,

Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd
Your well-defended honour; you must pardon him
For Mariana's fake: but as a judge,
Being doubly criminal, in violation
Of facred chastity, and in promise-breach,
Thereon dependant for your brother's life,
The very mercy of the law cries out
Most audible, even from his proper tongue,
An Angelo for Claudio; death for death.
Hafte till pays haste, and leisure answers leisure;
Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure.
Then, Angelo, thy faults are manifeft;

Which, tho' thou would'st deny 'em, deny thee vantage. We do condemn thee to the very block

Where Claudio stoop'd to death; and with like haste,

Away with him.

Mari. Oh my most gracious lord,

I hope you will not mock me with a husband.

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Duke.

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,
For that he knew you, might reproach your life,
And choak your good to come for his poffeffions,
Altho' by confifcation they are ours,
We do enstate and widow you withal,
To buy you a better husband.
Mari. Oh my dear lord,

I crave no other, nor no better man.
Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive.
Mari. Gentle my Liege,

Duke. You do but lose your labour:

Away with him to death. Now, Sir, to you.
Mari. Oh my good lord! Sweet Ifabel, take my part;
Lend me your knees, and all my life to come
I'll lend you, all my life to do you service.

Duke. Against all sense you do importune her
Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact,
Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break,
And take her hence in horror.

Mari. Isabel,

Sweet Ifabel, do yet but kneel by me,
Hold up your hands, say nothing; I'll fpeak 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. Most bounteous, Sir,

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 so,
Let him not die. My brother had but justice,
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 perish'd by the way:

;

[Kneeling

Thought

Thoughts are no fubjects; intents meerly thoughts.
Mari. Meerly, my lord.

Duke. Your fuit's unprofitable; stand up, I say:
I have bethought me of another fault.
Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded
At an usual hour ?

Prov. 'Twas so commanded.

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

Give up your keys.

Prov. Pardon me, noble lord.
I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;
Yet did repent me, after more advice :
For testimony whereof, one in the prifon,
That should by private order else have dy'd,
I have reserv'd alive.

Duke. And what is he?

Prov. His name is Barnardine.

Duke. I would thou had'st done so by Claudio :
Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. [Exit Prov.
Efcal. I'm forry one so learned and fo wife,

As you, lord Angelo, have still appear'd,
Should flip fo grofly both in heat of blood,
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.
Ang. I'm forry that such forrow I procure;
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy:
'Tis my deserving, and I do intreat it.
SCENE VII.

Enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Julietta.

Duke. Which is that Barnardine?

Prov. This, my good lord.

Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man :

Sirrah, thou'rt said to have a stubborn soul

That apprehends no further than this world,

And squar'st thy life accordingly: thou'rt condemn'd.

But for those earthly faults, I quit them all:

I pray thee, take this mercy to provide

For better times to come: Friar, advise him;
I leave him to you. What muffled fellow's that?
Prov: This is another prifoner that I fav'd,
Who should have dy'd when Claudio lost his head,
As like almost to Claudio as himself.

[Uncovers bim.

Duke. If he be like your brother, for his fake [To Hab. He's pardoned; and for your lovely fake, Give me your hand, fay you'll be mine, and he's My brother too; but fitter time for that. By this lord Angelo perceives he's safe, Methinks I see a quickning in his eye. Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well;

Look that you love your wife; her worth works yours.

I find an apt remission in my felf,

And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon.

You, firrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, [To Lucio.

One all of luxury, an ass, a mad-man;

Wherein have I deserved so 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, Provost, round about the city;
If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow,
(As I have heard him swear 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 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 recompence me in making me a cuckold.

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her:

Thy flanders I forgive, and therewithal

Remit thy other forfeits; take him to prifon:

And fee our pleasure herein execute.

Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is preffing to death,

whipping and hanging.

Duke.

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