MARIANA.
My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [Unveiling.]
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.
DUKE.
Know you this woman?
LUCIO.
Carnally, she says.
DUKE.
Sirrah, no more.
LUCIO.
Enough, my lord.
ANGELO.
My lord, I must confess I know this woman;
And five years since there was some speech of marriage
Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off,
Partly for that her promis’d proportions
Came short of composition; but in chief
For that her reputation was disvalued
In levity: since which time of five years
I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her,
Upon my faith and honour.
MARIANA.
Noble prince,
As there comes light from heaven and words from breath,
As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue,
I am affianc’d this man’s wife as strongly
As words could make up vows: and, my good lord,
But Tuesday night last gone, in his garden-house,
He knew me as a wife. As this is true,
Let me in safety raise me from my knees,
Or else for ever be confixed here,
A marble monument!
ANGELO.
I did but smile till now;
Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice;
My patience here is touch’d. I do perceive
These poor informal women are no more
But instruments of some more mightier member
That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord,
To find this practice out.
DUKE.
Ay, with my heart;
And punish them to your height of pleasure.—
Thou foolish friar, and thou pernicious woman,
Compact with her that’s gone, thinkst thou thy oaths,
Though they would swear down each particular saint,
Were testimonies against his worth and credit,
That’s seal’d in approbation?—You, Lord Escalus,
Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains
To find out this abuse, whence ‘tis deriv’d.—
There is another friar that set them on;
Let him be sent for.
PETER.
Would lie were here, my lord; for he indeed
Hath set the women on to this complaint:
Your provost knows the place where he abides,
And he may fetch him.
DUKE.
Go, do it instantly.—
[Exit PROVOST.]
And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin,
Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth,
Do with your injuries as seems you best
In any chastisement. I for a while
Will leave you: but stir not you till you have well
Determined upon these slanderers.
ESCALUS.
My lord, we’ll do it throughly.
[Exit DUKE.]
Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person?
LUCIO. ‘Cucullus non facit monachum’: honest in nothing but in his clothes; and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the duke.
ESCALUS. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come and enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a notable fellow.
LUCIO.
As any in Vienna, on my word.
ESCALUS. Call that same Isabel here once again [to an Attendant]; I would speak with her. Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you shall see how I’ll handle her.
LUCIO.
Not better than he, by her own report.
ESCALUS.
Say you?
LUCIO. Marry, sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess: perchance, publicly, she’ll be ashamed.
[Re-enter Officers, with ISABELLA.]
ESCALUS.
I will go darkly to work with her.
LUCIO.
That’s the way; for women are light at midnight.
ESCALUS. Come on, mistress [to ISABELLA]; here’s a gentlewoman denies all that you have said.
LUCIO.
My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of, here with the Provost.
[Re-enter the DUKE in his friar’s habit, and PROVOST.]
ESCALUS.
In very good time:—speak not you to him till we call upon you.
LUCIO.
Mum.
ESCALUS. Come, sir: did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo? they have confessed you did.
DUKE.
‘Tis false.
ESCALUS.
How! Know you where you are?
DUKE.
Respect to your great place! and let the devil
Be sometime honour’d for his burning throne!—
Where is the duke? ‘tis he should hear me speak.
ESCALUS.
The duke’s in us; and we will hear you speak:
Look you speak justly.
DUKE.
Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls,
Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox,
Good night to your redress! Is the duke gone?
Then is your cause gone too. The duke’s unjust
Thus to retort your manifest appeal,
And put your trial in the villain’s mouth
Which here you come to accuse.
LUCIO.
This is the rascal; this is he I spoke of.
ESCALUS.
Why, thou unreverend and unhallow’d friar,