Peter.
Now is your time: speak loud and kneel before him.

Isab.
Justice, O royal Duke; vail your regard
Upon a wrong'd, I'd fain have said, a maid:
Oh worthy Prince, dishonour not your eye
By throwing it on any other object,
'Till you have heard me in my true complaint,
And give me justice, justice, justice, justice.

Duke.
Relate your wrongs; in what, by whom? be brief:
Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice;
Reveal your self to him.

Isab.
Oh worthy Duke,
You bid me seek redemption of the devil:
Hear me your self; for that which I must speak
Must either punish me, not being believ'd,
Or wring redress from you: oh hear me here.

Ang.
My lord, her wits I fear me are not firm:
Sh' 'ath been a suitor to me for her brother,
Cut off by course of justice.

Isab.
Course of justice!

Ang.
And she will speak most bitterly.

Isab.
Most strange but yet most truly will I speak;
That Angelo's forsworn: 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, ten times strange.

Isab.
It is not truer he is Angelo,

Than this is all as true as it is strange:
Nay it is ten times true; for truth is truth
To th' end of reckoning.

Duke.
Away with her: poor soul,
She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense.

Isab.
Oh I conjure thee, Prince, 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 impossible
That which but seems unlike; 'tis not impossible
But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground,
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute
As Angelo; ev'n so may Angelo,
In all his dressings, caracts, titles, forms,
Be an arch-villain: trust me, royal Prince,
If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more,
Had I more name for badness.

Duke.
By mine honesty,
If she be mad, as I believe no other,
Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense,
Such a dependency of thing on thing,
As e'er I heard in madness.

Isab.
Gracious Duke,
Harp not on that; and do not banish reason
For inequality; but let your reason
Serve to make truth appear, where it seems hid,
And hide the false seems true.

Duke.
Many that are not mad
Have sure more lack of reason.
What would you say?

Isab.
I am the sister of one Claudio,
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication,
To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo:

I, in probation of a sisterhood,
Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio,
As then the messenger,—

Lucio.
That's I, and't like your grace:
I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her
To try her gracious fortune with lord Angelo,
For her poor brother's pardon.

Isab.
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 your self, pray heav'n you then
Be perfect.

Lucio.
I warrant your honour.

Duke.
The warrant's for your self; take heed to't.

Isab.
This gentleman told something 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 somewhat madly spoken.

Isab.
Pardon it:
The phrase is to the matter.

Duke.
Mended again: the matter; proceed.

Isab.
In brief; (to set the needless by,
How I persuaded, 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 conclusion
I now begin with grief and shame to utter.
He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupiscent intemp'rate lust,

Release my brother; after much debatement,
My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,
And I did yield to him: next morn betimes,
His purpose forfeiting, he sends 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'st not what thou speak'st;
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour
In hateful practice. His integrity
Stands without blemish; it imports no reason,
That with such vehemence he should pursue
Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on,
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
Thou cam'st here to complain?

Isab.
And is this all?
Then oh you blessed ministers above!
Keep me in patience; and with ripen'd time,
Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up
In countenance: Heav'n shield your Grace from woe,
As I thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go.

Duke.
I know you'd fain be gone. An officer;
To prison with her. Shall we thus permit
A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall
On him so near us? this must be a practice.
Who knew of our intent, and coming hither?

Isab.
One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.

Duke.
A ghostly father belike:
Who knows that Lodowick?

Lucio.
My lord, I know him; 'tis a medling 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 swing'd him soundly.

Duke.
Words against me? this is a good Friar belike,
And to set 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 prison: a sawcy Friar,
A very scurvy fellow.

Peter.
Blessed be your royal Grace!
I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard
Your royal ear abus'd. First hath this woman
Most wrongfully accus'd your substitute,
Who is as free from touch or soil with her,
As she from one ungot.

Duke.
We did believe no less.
Know you that Friar Lodowick which she speaks of?

Peter.
I know him for a man divine and holy;
Not scurvy, nor a temporary medler,
As he's reported by this gentleman;
And on my trust a man that never yet
Did, as he vouches, misreport your Grace.

Lucio.
My lord, most villanously; believe it.

Peter.
Well; he in time may come to clear himself;
But at this instant he is sick, my lord,
Of a strange fever. On his meer request,
(Being come to knowledge that there was complaint
Intended 'gainst lord Angelo) came I hither
To speak as from his mouth, what he doth know
Is true and false; and he upon his oath
By all probation will make up full clear,
Whenever he's conven'd. First, for this woman;
To justifie this worthy nobleman,

So vulgarly and personally accus'd,
Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes,
'Till she her self confess it.

Duke.
Good Friar, let's hear it.
Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo?
O heav'n! the vanity of wretched fools!—
Give us some seats; come, cousin Angelo,
In this I'll be impartial: be you judge
Of your own cause. Is this the witness, Friar?

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