First let her shew her face; and, after, speak.

Mari.
Pardon, my lord, I will not shew my face,
Until my husband bid me.

Duke.

What, are you marry'd?

Mari.

No, my lord.

Duke.

Are you a maid?

Mari.

No, my lord.

Duke.

A widow then?

Mari.

Neither, my lord.

Duke.

Why, are you nothing then? neither maid, widow, nor wife?

Lucio.

My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.

Duke.

Silence that fellow: I would, he had some cause to prattle for himself.

Lucio.

Well, my lord.

Mari.
My lord, I do confess, I ne'er was marry'd;
And, I confess, besides, I am no maid;

I've known my husband; yet my husband knows not,
That ever he knew me.

Lucio.
He was drunk then, my lord; it can be no better.

Duke.
For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too.

Lucio.
Well, my lord.

Duke.
This is no witness for lord Angelo.

Mari.
Now I come to't, my lord.
She, that accuses him of fornication,
In self-same manner doth accuse my husband;
And charges him, my lord, with such a time,
When I'll depose I had him in mine arms,
With all th' effect of love.

Ang.
Charges she more than me?

Mari.
Not that I know.

Duke.
No? you say, your husband. [To Mariana.

Mari.
Why, just, my lord; and that is Angelo;
Who thinks, he knows, that he ne'er knew my body;
But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel's.

Ang.
This is a strange abuse; let's see thy face.

Mari.
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.

Ang.
My lord, I must confess, I know this woman;
And five years since there was some speech of marriage
Betwixt my self and her; which was broke off,
Partly, for that her promised proportions
Came short of composition; but, in chief,
For that her Reputation was disvalu'd
In levity; since which time of five years

I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her,
Upon my faith and honour.

Mari.
Noble Prince,
As there comes light from heav'n, 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's 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!

Ang.
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 ^{5 note}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 unto your height of pleasure.
Thou foolish Friar, and thou pernicious woman,
Compact with her that's gone; think'st thou, thy oaths,
Tho' they would swear down each particular Saint,
Were testimonies 'gainst 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 he 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.
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. [Exit.

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