They say best men are moulded out of faults,
And for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad: So may my husband.
Oh Isabel: will you not lend a knee?

Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.

Isab. Most bounteous Sir. [Kneeling.]
Looke if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
As if my Brother liv'd: I partly thinke,
A due sinceritie governed his deedes,
Till he did looke on me: Since it is so,
Let him not die: my Brother had but Justice,
In that he did the thing for which he dide.

490

For Angelo, his Act did not ore-take his bad intent, And must be buried but as an intent

500

That perish'd by the way: thoughts are no subjects Intents, but meerely thoughts.

Mar. Meerely my Lord.

Duk. Your suite's unprofitable: stand up I say:

I have bethought me of another fault.

Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded
At an unusuall howre?

Pro. It was commanded so.

508

Duke. Had you a speciall warrant for the deed? Pro. No my good Lord: it was by private message. Duk. For which I doe discharge you of your office, Give up your keyes.

Pro. Pardon mc, 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 prison
That should by private order else have dide,
I have reserv'd alive.

499. For Angelo: separate 1.-JOHNSON.

513. mc: me-2-4F.

Duk. What's he?

Pro. His name is Barnardine.

Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio: Goe fetch him hither, let me looke upon him.

520

[Exit Provost.]

Esc. I am sorry, one so learned, and so wise
As you, Lord Angelo, have stil appear'd,
Should slip so grosselie, both in the heat of bloud
And lacke of temper'd judgement afterward.

Ang. I am sorrie, that such sorrow I procure,
And so deepe sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly then mercy,
'Tis my deserving, and I doe entreat it.

530

Enter Barnardine and Provost, Claudio [muffled],

Julietta.

Duke. Which is that Barnardine?

Pro. This my Lord.

Duke. There was a Friar told me of this man. Sirha, thou art said to have a stubborne soule

That apprehends no further then this world,

And squar'st thy life according: Thou'rt condemn'd,
But for those earthly faults, I quit them all,
And pray thee take this mercie to provide
For better times to come: Frier advise him,

540

I leave him to your hand. What muffeld fellow's that?
Pro. This is another prisoner that I sav'd,

Who should have di'd when Claudio lost his head,
As like almost to Claudio, as himselfe.

[Unmuffles Claudio.]

Duke. [To Is.] If he be like your brother, for his sake

Is he pardon'd, and for your lovelie sake

Give me your hand, and say you will be mine,

He is my brother too: But fitter time for that:
By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe,
Methinkes I see a quickning in his eye:
Well Angelo, your evill quits you well.
Looke that you love your wife: her worth, worth

I finde an apt remission in my selfe:

And yet heere's one in place I cannot pardon,
You sirha, that knew me for a foole, a Coward,
One all of Luxurie, an asse, a mad man:
Wherein have I so deserv'd of you

That you extoll me thus?

550

yours

Luc. '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. Proclaime it Provost round about the Citie, If any woman wrong'd by this lewd fellow (As I have heard him sweare himselfe there's one whom he begot with childe) let her appeare, And he shall marry her: the nuptiall finish'd, Let him be whipt and hang'd.

561

Luc. I beseech your Highnesse doe not marry me to a Whore: your Highnesse said even now I made you a Duke, good my Lord do not recompence me, in making me a Cuckold.

Duke. Upon mine honor thou shalt marrie her.

Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithall

Remit thy other forfeits: take him to prison,

And see our pleasure herein executed.

572

Luc. Marrying a punke my Lord, is pressing to death, Whipping and hanging.

Duke. Slandering a Prince deserves it.

[Exeunt Officers with Lucio.] She Claudio that you wrong'd, looke you restore.

580

Joy to you Mariana, love her Angelo:

I have confes'd her, and I know her vertue.

Thanks good friend, Escalus, for thy much goodnesse,
There's more behinde that is more gratulate.
Thanks Provost for thy care, and secrecie,
We shall imploy thee in a worthier place.
Forgive him Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's,
Th'offence pardons it selfe.

Deere Isabell,
I have a motion much imports your good,
Whereto if you'll a willing eare incline;

590

What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.
So bring us to our Pallace, where wee'll show
What's yet behinde, that meete you all should know.

594. that: that's-2-4F.