Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm:
She hath been a suitor to me for her brother
Cut off by course of justice,-

Isab.
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?

Duke.

40

Nay, it is ten times 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.

Duke.

Away with her!-Poor soul,

She speaks this in the infirmity of sense. Isab. O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest 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

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possible

That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible

But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,

May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute
As Angelo; even so may Angelo,

In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince:
If he be less, he 's nothing; but he's more,
Had I more name for badness.

Duke.

By mine honesty,

Isab.

If she 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.

O gracious Duke,
Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason
For inequality; but let your reason serve
To make the truth appear where it seems hid,
And hide the false seems true.

Duke.

60

Many that are not mad
What would you

Have, sure, more lack of reason.

say?

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,—

Lucio.

Isab.

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That's I, an 't like your Grace:
I came to her from Claudio, and desired her
To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo
For her poor brother's pardon.

Duke. You were not bid to speak.
Lucio.

Nor wish'd to hold my peace.

Duke.

That's he indeed.

No, my good lord;

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.

A warrant your honour.

Duke. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to 't.

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Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of a tale,—
Lucio. Right.

Duke. It may be right; but you are i' the wrong
To speak before your time. Proceed.
Isab.

To this pernicious caitiff Deputy,—
Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken.
Isab.

The phrase is to the matter.

I went

Pardon it;

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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'd 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,

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Release my brother; and, after much debatement,
My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,
And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes,
His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
For my poor brother's head.

Duke.

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 imports no reason
That with such vehemency he should pursue

Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended, 110
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,

Isab.

And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on:
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice

Thou camest 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!-Heaven shield your Grace from

woe,

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As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!
Duke. I know you 'ld 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 Lodo-

wick?

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 swinged him soundly. 130 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.

Fri. P. Blessed be your royal Grace!

I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard

Your royal ear abused. First, hath this woman

Most wrongfully accused your substitute,

Who is as free from touch or soil with her
As she from one ungot.

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Duke.

We did believe no less.

Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of? Fri. P. I know him for a man divine and holy;

Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler,
As he 's reported by this gentleman;
And, on my trust, a man that never yet
Did, as he vouches, misreport your Grace.

Lucio. My lord, most villanously; believe it.
Fri. P. Well, he in time may come to clear himself;
But at this instant he is sick, my lord,

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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 accused,

Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,
Till she herself confess it.

Duke.

Good friar, let's hear it.

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[Isabella is carried off guarded; and 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

Of your own cause. Is this the witness, friar?
First, let her show her face, and after speak.
Mari. Pardon, my lord: I will not show my face
Until my husband bid me.

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