DUKE. Many and hearty thanks be to you both :
We've made enquiry of you, and we hear,

Such goodness of your justice, that our foul
Cannot but yield you forth to publick thanks,
Forerunning more requital.

ANG. You make my bonds ftill greater.

DUKE. Oh, your defert speaks loud; and I should wrong it,
To lockt it in the wards of covert bofom,
When it deferves with characters of brass
A forted refidence, 'gainst the tooth of time
And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand,
And let the fubjects fee, to make them know
That outward courtefies would fain proclaim
Favours that keep within. Come, Efcalus;
You must walk by us on our other hand :
And good fupporters are you.

SCENE

[As the Duke is going out.

II.

Enter Peter and Ifabella.

PETIR. Now is your time: fpeak loud, and kneel before

him.

ISAB. Juftice, O royal duke! vail your regard

Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have faid, a maid.

Oh, worthy prince, difhonour not your eye
By throwing it on any other object,

'Till you have heard me in my true complaint,

And giv'n me justice, justice, juftice, juftice.

DUKE. Relate your wrongs; in what, by whom? be brief:

Here is lord Angelo fhall give you justice;

Reveal yourself to him.

ISAB. Oh, worthy duke,

You bid me feek redemption of the devil:

Here me yourself, for that which I must speak
Muft either punish me, not being believ'd,

Or wring redrefs from you: hear me, oh, hear me, here.
ANG. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm;
She hath been a fuitor to me for her brother,

Cut off by course of justice.

ISAB. By courfe of Justice!

ANG. And she will speak moft bitterly and strange.
ISAB. Moft ftrange, but yet most truly, will I speak.
That Angelo's forfworn, is it not strange?
That Angelo's a murth'rer, is't not strange?
That Angelo is an adult'rous thief,
An hypocrite, a virgin-violater;
Is it not strange, and strange?
DUKE. Nay, it is ten times strange.
ISAB. It is not truer he is Angelo,
Than this is all as true as it is ftrange.

Nay, it is ten times truer; for truth is truth
To th' end of reck'ning.

DUKE. Away with her, poor foul,

She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense.

ISAB. Oh, 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 impoffible,

That, which but seems unlike; 'tis not impoffible,

But one, the wicked'ft caitiff on the ground,
May feem as fhy, as grave, as just, as absolute,
As Angelo; even fo may Angelo

In all his dreffings, caracts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain: believe it, royal prince,
If he be lefs, he's nothing; but he's more,

Had I more name for badness.

DUKE. By mine honefty,

If the be mad, as I believe no other,

Her madness hath the oddeft frame of sense;
Such a dependency of thing on thing,

As ne'er I heard in madness.

ISAB. Gracious Duke,

Harp not on That; nor do not banish reason
For inequality; but let your reafon serve
To make the truth appear, where it seems hid;
Not hide the falfe, feems true.

DUKE. Many, that are not mad,
Have, fure, more lack of reafon.
What would you say?

ISAB. 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 fifterhood,

Was fent to by my brother. One Lucio
Was 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.

ISA B. 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.

DUKE. The warrant's for yourself; take heed to't.
ISAB. This gentleman told fomewhat of my tale.
LUCIO. Right.

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

ISAB. I went to this pernicious caitiff deputy.
DUKE. That's fomewhat madly spoken.
ISAB. Pardon it:

The phrafe is to the matter.

DUKE. Mended again: the matter;-proceed.
ISAB. In brief; (to fet the needlefs 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 shame to utter.
He would not, but by gift of my chafte body

To his concupifcent intemp'rate luft,

Release my brother; and after much debatement,

My fifterly remorfe confutes mine honour,

And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes,
His purpose furfeiting, he fends a warrant

For my poor brother's head.

DUKE. This is most likely !

ISAB. Oh, that it were as like, as it is true!

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

Or elfe thou art fuborn'd against his honour

In hateful practice. First, his integrity

Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason,

That with fuch vehemence he should pursue
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.

ISAB. And is this all?

Then, oh, you bleffed minifters above!

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

In countenance. Heav'n fhield your grace from woe,
As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go.

DUKE. I know, you'd fain be gone. An officer-
To prifon with her. Shall we thus permit

A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall
On him so near us? this needs must be practice.
Who knew of your intent, and coming hither?
ISAB. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.
DUKE. A ghoftly father, belike:—— -Who knows that Lo-

dowick ?

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 fwing'd him foundly.
DUKE. Words against me? this is a good Friar, belike
And to fet 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 prifon :a fawcy Friar,

A very curvy fellow.

PETER. Bleffed be your royal grace!

I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd. First, hath this woman
Moft wrongfully accus'd your fubstitute;

Who is as free from touch or foil with her,