To juftifie this worthy Nobleman, Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it. Do you not smile at this, lord Angelo? Of your own Caufe. Is this the witnefs, Friar? [Ifabella is carried off, guarded. First let her fhew her face; and, after, speak. 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, fhe may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Duke. Silence that fellow: I would, he had fome cause to prattle for himself. Lucio. Well, my lord. Mari. My lord, I do confefs, I ne'er was marry'd; And, I confefs, befides, I ain no maid ; the author is thinking of one thing and his critic of another. The poet was attentive to his fenfe, and the Editor, quite throughout his performance, to nothing but the measure: which Shakespear having entirely neglected, like all the dramatic writers of that age, he has spruced him up with all the exactness of a modern measurer of Syllables. This being here taken notice of once for all, fhall, for the future, be forgot, as if it had never been. I've known my husband; yet my husband knows not, Lucio.He was drunk then,my lord; it can be no better. Duke. This is no witnefs for lord Angelo. Mari. Now I come to❜t, my lord. She, that accufes him of fornication, In felf-fame manner doth accuse my husband; Ang. Charges fhe more than me? Mari. Not that I know. Duke. No? you fay, your husband. [To Mariana. Ang. This is a strange abuse; let's fee thy face. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which, once thou fwor'ft, was worth the looking on: That took away the match from Isabel; In her imagin'd perfon. Duke. Know you this woman? Lucio. Carnally, fhe fays. Duke. Sirrah, no more. Lucio. Enough, my lord. Ang. My lord, I must confefs, I know this woman; I I never fpake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Mari. Noble Prince, [breath, As there comes light from heav'n, and words from As there is fenfe in truth, and truth in virtue, I am affianc'd this man's wife, as ftrongly As words could make up vows: and, my good lord, Let me in fafety raise me from my knees; A marble monument! Ang. I did but fmile 'till now. Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice; Duke. Ay, with my heart; And punish them unto your height of pleasure. [deed, Peter. Would he were here, my lord; for he, inHath fet the women on to this complaint: Your Provost knows the place, where he abides; 5 informal women] i. e. women who have ill concerted their ftory. Formal fignifies frequently, in our author, a thing put into form or method: fo informal, out of method, ill concerted. How easy is it to fay, that Shakespear might better have wrote informing, i. e. accufing. But he who (as the Oxford Editor) thinks he did write fo, knows nothing of the character of his ftile. And And he may fetch him. Duke. Go, do it instantly. And you, my noble and well-warranted coufin, In any chastisement: I for a while ; Will leave you; but ftir not you, 'till you have well Determined upon these flanderers. [Exit. Efcal. My lord, we'll do it throughly. Signior Lucio, did not you fay, you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person? Lucio. Cucullus non facit monachum; honeft in nothing, but in his cloaths; and one that hath spoke most villanous fpeeches of the Duke, Efcal. We fhall intreat you to abide here 'till he come, and inforce them against him; we fhall find this Friar a notable fellow. Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word. Efcal. Call that fame Ifabel here once again: I would fpeak with her: pray you, my lord, give me leave to question; you fhall fee how I'll handle her. Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report. Lucio. Marry, Sir, I think, if you handled her privately, she should fooner confefs; perchance, publickly fhe'll be asham'd. Enter Duke in the Friar's babit, and Provost; Isabella is brought in. Efcal. I will go darkly to work with her. Lucio. That's the way; for women are light at midnight. Efcal. Come on, miftrefs: here's a gentlewoman denies all that you have faid. Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of, here with the Provoft. Efcal. In very good time: fpeak not you to him, till we call upon you. Lucio. Lucio. Mum Efcal. Come, Sir, did you fet these women on to flander lord Angelo? they have confefs'd you did. Duke. 'Tis falfe. Efcal. How? know you where you are? Duke. Refpect to your great Place; and let the devil Duke. Boldly, at least. But oh, poor fouls, And put your tryal in the villain's mouth, Lucio. This is the rafcal; this is he, I spoke of. Efcal. Why, thou unrev'rend and unhallow'd Friar, Is't not enough thou haft fuborn'd these women T'accuse this worthy man, but with foul mouth, And in the witness of his proper ear, To call him villain; and then glance from him Duke. Be not fo hot; the duke dare no more stretch Nor here provincial; my business in this state Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble, As much in mock as mark. Efcal. 6 Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,] Barbers shops were, at all times, the refort of idle people. VOL. I. G Tonfirins |