muft you? fhow your knave's vifage, with a pox to you; fhow your fheep-biting face, and be hang'd; an hour? will't not off?

[Pulls off the Friar's bood, and difcovers the Duke. Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er mad'ft a Duke. First, Provost, let me bail thefe 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 Efcalus. We'll borrow place of him. Sir, by your leave: [To Ang. Haft thou or word, or wit, or impudence,

That yet can do thee office? if thou haft,
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 feffion hold upon my fhame;
But let my tryal be mine own confeffion :
Immediate fentence then, and fequent death,
Is all the grace I beg.

Duke. Come hither, Mariana: fay; waft thou
Contracted to this woman?

Ang. I was, my lord..

Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her inftantly. Do you the office, Friar; which confummate,

Return him here again: go with him, Provoft.

[Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provcft. SCENE

V.

Efcal. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonour, Than at the ftrangeness of it.

Duke. Come hither, fabel;

Your Friar is now your Prince: as I was then
Advertifing, 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 vaffal, have employ'd and pain'd
Your unknown Sovereignty.

Duke. You are pardon'd, Ifabel:

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 obfcur'd

my felf,
Labouring to fave his life; and would not rather
Make rash remonftrance of my hidden power,
Than let him be fo loft: O moft kind maid,
It was the fwift 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, paft 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,
Whofe falt 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 promife-breach,
Thereon dependant for your brother's life,
The very mercy of the law cries out
Moft audible, even from his proper tongue,
An Angelo for Claudio; death for death.

Hafte ftill pays hafte, and leifure anfwers leisure;

Like doth quit like, and Meafure ftill for Measure.

Then, Angelo, thy faults are manifest;

Which, tho' thou would't deny 'em, deny thee vantage.

We do condemn thee to the very block

Where Claudio ftoop'd to death; and with like hafte,
Away with him.

Mari. Oh my moft gracious lord,

I hope you will not mock me with a husband,

G 2

Duke.

Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband.
Confenting to the fafeguard 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 enftate 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 lofe 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 fervice.

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

Mari. Ifabel,

Sweet Ifabel, do yet but kneel by me,

Hold up your hands, fay nothing; I'll speak all,
They fay beft men are moulded out of faults;
And for the moft, 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. Moft bounteous, Sir,

Look, if it pleafe 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 fo,
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 perifh'd by the way:

[Kneeling

Thought

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

Duke. Your fuit's unprofitable; ftand up, I say:
I have bethought me of another fault.

Proveft, how came it Claudio was beheaded

At an ufual hour?

Prov. 'Twas fo commanded.

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

Give up your keys.

Prov. Pardon me, noble lord.

your office:

I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;
Yet did repent me, after more advice:
For teftimony whereof, one in the prifon,
That fhould by private order elfe have dy'd,
I have referv'd alive.

Duke. And what is he?

Prov. His name is Barnardine.

Duke. I would thou had'ft done fo by Claudio: Go fetch him hither; let me lock upon him. [Exit Prov, Efcal. I'm forry one fo learned and fo wife, As you, lord Angelo, have ftill appear'd, Should flip fo grofly both in heat of blood, And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. Ang. I'm forry that fuch forrow I procure; And fo deep sticks it in my penitent heart, That I crave death more willingly than mercy: 'Tis my deferving, and I do intreat it.

SCENE VII.

Enter Provoft, 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 faid to have a stubborn foul

That apprehends no further than this world,

And fquar'ft thy life accordingly: thou'rt condemn'd.
But for those earthly faults, I quit them all:

I pray thee, take this mercy to provide

G 3

For

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

[Uncovers him. 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 fafe,
Methinks I fee 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 remiffion 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 afs, a mad-man;

Wherein have I deferved fo of you,

That you extol me thus ?

Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I fpoke 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 fhall marry her; the nuptial finish'd,
Let him be whipt and hang'd.

Lucio. I befeech your Highness, do not marry me to a whore your Highnefs faid even now, I made you a Duke; good my lord, do not recompence me in making me a cuckold.

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou fhalt marry her:

Thy flanders I forgive, and therewithal

Remit thy other forfeits; take him to prison:

And fee our pleasure herein execute.

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

whipping and hanging.

Duke.