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By course of justice!—
ANG. And she will speak most bitterly, and strange.
ISAB. Most strange, but yet most truly, will I speak :
That Angelo's forsworn; is it not strange?
That Angelo's a murderer; is 't not strange?
That Angelo is an adulterous thief,
An hypocrite, a virgin-violator;
Is it not strange, and strange?
ISAB. It is not truer he is Angelo

Than this is all as true as it is strange:
Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth
To the end of reckoning.


Nay, ten times strange.

Away with her!-Poor soul,
She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.
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 impossible
That which but seems unlike! 'Tis not impossible

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Many that are not mad

What would you

3 inconsistency.



ISAB. I am the sister of one Claudio,
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication
To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo:
I, in probation of a Sisterhood,
Was sent to by my brother: one Lucio
As then the messenger-

That's I, an't like your Grace:
I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her
To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo
For her poor brother's pardon.
DUKE. You were not bid to speak.

That's he, indeed.

No, my good Lord,

Nor wish'd to hold my peace.
I wish you now then;
Pray you, take note of it; and when you have
A business for yourself, pray Heaven you then
Be perfect.

LUCIO. I warrant your Honour.

DUKE. The warrant's for yourself: take heed to it.
ISAB. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale.
LUCIO. Right.

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

To this pernicious, caitiff Deputy. DUKE. That's somewhat madly spoken. ISAB.

I went

Pardon it:

The phrase is to the matter.

DUKE. Mended again. The matter: proceed.
ISAB. In brief-to set the needless process by,

How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd,
How he refell'd1 me, and how I replied


(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 concupiscible, intemperate lust,
Release my brother; and, after much debatement,
My sisterly remorse2 confutes mine honour,
And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes,

2 pity.

1 rebutted.



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Sc. I


Sc. I

His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant

For my poor brother's head.

This is most likely!
ISAB. O, that it were as like as it is true!

DUKE. By Heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not what

thou speak'st,

Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour

In hateful practice. First, his integrity

Stands without blemish. Next, it imports1 no reason
That with such vehemency he should pursue

Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on:
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
Thou cam'st here to complain.


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 wrapt up

In countenance !2 Heaven shield your Grace from woe,
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 ?

1 bears.

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 spake against your Grace
In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly.
DUKE. Words against me? This's 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,
I saw them at the Prison: a saucy Friar,
A very scurvy fellow.


Bless'd be

2 authority.



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3 conspiracy.



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FRI. P. Well, he in time may come to clear himself; 150
But at this instant he is sick, my Lord,

Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request

(Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo) came I hither,

To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true and false; and what he, with his oath
And all probation, will make up full clear,


Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman (To justify this worthy nobleman,

So vulgarly and personally accus'd),

Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,

Till she herself confess it.



my face

your own cause. Is this the witness, Friar?
First, let her shew her face; and, after, speak.
MARI. Pardon, my Lord: I will not shew
Until my husband bid me.
DUKE. What, are you married?
MARI. No, my Lord.

Good Friar, let's hear it.


[ISABELLA is carried off, guarded; and ybod via voi MARIANA comes forward. Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo! O, Heaven! the vanity of wretched fools!— Give us some seats. Come, Cousin Angelo, In this I'll be impartial: be you judge

1 in things temporal.


Are you a maid?

2 formally cited.

3 openly.



Sc. I


Sc. I


DUKE. A widow then?



No, my Lord.

701 10

Neither, my Lord.

Why, you

Are 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 married,x80
tu un bia

And I confess, besides, I am no maid:

I have 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 silence, would thou wert so too!
LUCIO. Well, my Lord.
70 of semen palal)
DUKE. This is no witness for Lord Angelo.
MARI. Now I come to 't, my Lord:


She, that accuses him of fornication,

In selfsame manner doth accuse my husband;
And charges him, my Lord, with such a time,
When I'll depose I had him in mine arms ent
With all the effect of love.


MARI. Not that I know.
No? you say your husband?ue
MARI. Why, just, my Lord, and that is Angelo,
Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body,
But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's. 10
ANG. This is a strange abuse.1 Let's see thy face.
MARI. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. AD


Charges she more than me?
Jo Homel sde Alt

dua ime

This is that face, thou cruel Angelo,
Which once thou swor'st was worth the looking on;
This is the hand, which with a vow'd contract
Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body,
That took away the match from Isabel,
And did supply thee at thy garden-house
In her imagin'd person.

1 imposture.


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