Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

Duke. Nay, ten times ftrange.

Ifab. It is not truer he is Angelo,

Than this is all as true as it is ftrange:

Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth
To th' end of reckoning.

Duke. Away with her: poor foul,

She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense,

Ifab. O, I conjure thee, prince, as thou believ❜ft There is another comfort than this world,

That thou neglect me not, with that opinion

That I am touch'd with madness. Make not impoffible
That which but feems unlike; 'tis not impoffible
But one, the wicked'ft caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as juft, as absolute,
As Angelo; ev'n fo may Angelo,

In all his dreffings, characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain: truft me, royal prince,
If he be lefs, he's nothing; but he's more,
Had I more name for badness.

Duke. By mine honour,

If fhe be mad, as I believe no other,

Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense,
Such a dependency of thing on thing,
As e'er I heard in madness.

Ifab. Gracious duke,

Harp not on that; and do not banish reafon

For inequality; but let your reafon

Serve to make truth appear where it seems hid,

Not hide the false feems true.

Duke. Many not mad

Have, fure, more lack of reason. What would you fay?
Ifab. I am the fifter of one Claudio,
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication,
To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo:
I, in probation of a sisterstood,

Was fent to by my brother; one Lucio being

As

As then the messenger,

Lucio. That's I, an't like your grace:

I came to her from Claudio, and defir'd her

To try her gracious fortune with lord Angelo,
For her poor brother's pardon.

Ifab. That's he, indeed.

Duke. You were not bid to speak.

[To Lucio.

Lucio. No, my good lord, nor wish'd to hold my peace.

Duke. I wish you now then;

Pray you, take note of it: and when you have

A business for yourself, pray heav'n you then

Be perfect.

Lucio. I warrant your honour, fir.

Duke. The warrant's for yourself; be fure, take heed to't. Ifab. This gentleman told fomething of my tale.

Lucio. Right.

Duke. It may be right, but you are in the wrong To speak before your time. Proceed.

Ifab. I went

To this pernicious caitiff deputy.

Duke. That's fomewhat madly spoken.
Ifab. Pardon it:

The phrase is to the matter.

Duke. Mended again: the matter then; proceed.
Ifab. In brief; (to fet the needless process by,
How I perfuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd,
How he repell'd me, and how I reply'd,

For this was of much length) the vile conclufion
I now begin with grief and fhame to utter.
He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupifcent intemp'rate luft,
Release my brother; after much debatement,
My fifterly remorfe confutes mine honour,
And I did yield to him: next morn betimes,
His purpofe forfeiting, he fends a warrant
For my poor brother's head.

Duke.

Duke. This is most likely!

Ifab. O that it were as like as it is true!

Duke. By heav'n, fond wretch, thou know'ft not what thou speak'ft;

Or else thou art fuborn'd against his honour
In hateful practice. His integrity

Stands without blemish; it imports no reason,
That with fuch vehemence he should purfue
Faults proper to himself: if he had fo

Offended, he would have weigh'd thy brother by
Himself, and not have cut him off. Some one
Hath fet you on; confess the truth, and say
By whofe advice thou cam'ft here to complain.
Ifab. And is this all?

Then, o you blessed ministers above,

Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time,
Unfold the evil which is here wrap'd up

In countenance! Heav'n fhield your grace from wo,
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 fcandalous breath to fall
On him fo near us? this must be a practice.
Who knew of our intent, and coming hither?

Ifab. One that I would were here, friar Lodowick.

Duke. A ghoftly father, belike: who knows that Lodowick? Lucio. My lord, I know him; 'tis a medling 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 fwing'd him soundly.

Duke. Words against me? this is a good friar, belike, And to fet on this wretched woman here

Against our fubftitute! let this friar be found.

Lucio. But yefternight, my lord, fhe and that friar,
I faw them at the prifon : a fawcy friar,
A very scurvy fellow.

Peter.

Peter. Blefs'd be your grace!

I have ftood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd. First, hath this woman
Moft wrongfully accus'd your fubftitute,
Who is as free from touch or foil with her,
As fhe from one ungot.

Duke. We did believe

No lefs. Know you that friar Lodowick?

Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary medler,

As he's reported by this gentleman;

And, on my truft, a man that never yet

Did, as he vouches, mifreport your grace.

Lucio. My lord, moft villanoufly he did; believe it.

Peter. Well; he in time may come to clear himself; But at this inftant he is fick, my lord,

Of a strange fever. On his mere requeft,

Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainft lord Angelo) came I hither

To fpeak, as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true or false; and he upon his oath

By all probation will make up full clear,
Whenever he's conven'd. Firft, for this woman;
To justify this worthy nobleman,

So vulgarly and perfonally accus'd,

Her fhall you hear difproved to her eyes, "Till fhe herself confefs it.

Duke. Good friar, let's hear it.

Do you not fmile at this, lord Angelo?
heav'n! the vanity of wretched fools!
Give us some seats; come, coufin Angelo,
In this I will be partial: be you judge
Of your own caufe. Is this the witness, friar?

[Ifabella is carried off, guarded.

SCENE

[blocks in formation]

First, let her show her face, and, after, speak.
Mari. Pardon, my lord, I will not show my face
Until my husband bid me.

Duke. What, are you marry'd?

Mari. No, my lord.

Duke. Are you a maid?

Mari. No, my lord.

Duke. A widow then?

Mari. Neither, my lord.

Duke. Why, are you nothing then? neither maid, widow, nor wife?

Lucio. My lord, fhe may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.

Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had fome cause to prattle for himself.

Lucio. Well, my lord.

Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was marry'd, And I confefs, befides, I am no maid;

I've known my husband, yet my husband knows not

That ever he knew me.

Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord; it can be no better.

Duke. For the benefit of filence, would, thou wert fo too. Lucio. Well, my lord.

Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo.

Mari. Now I come to't, my lord.

She that accuses him of fornication,

In self-same manner doth accuse my husband,
And charges him, my lord, with such a time,
When I'll depofe I had him in mine arms,

With all th' effect of love.

Ang. Charges fhe more

Than me?

« AnteriorContinuar »