Ifab. Courfe of justice! Ang. And she will speak moft bitterly, and strange. Duke. Nay, it is ten times ftrange. Duke. Away with her: poor foul, She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense. Ifab. O Prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'ft 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 In all his dreffings, caracts, titles, forms, Duke. By mine honesty, If fhe be mad, as I believe no other, Ifab. Gracious Duke, Harp not on That; nor do not banish reason To make the truth appear, where it seems hid; ■ And hide the false, feems true.] We should read Not hide. Duke. Duke. Many, that are not mad, Have, fure, more lack of reason. What would you say? Ifab. I am the fifter of one Claudio, Was fent to by my brother; one Lucio, Lucio. That's I, an't like your Grace: Ifab. That's he, indeed. Duke. You were not bid to speak. [To Lucio. Lucio. No, my good lord, nor wish to hold my peace. Duke. I wish you now then; Pray you, take note of it: and when you have Lucio. I warrant your Honour. Duke. The warrant's for your felf; take heed to't. Ifab. 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. Ifab. I went To this pernicious caitiff Deputy. Duke. That's fomewhat madly fpoken. The phrafe is to the matter. Duke. Mended again: the matter;-proceed. To To his concupifcent intemp'rate luft, Release my brother? and after much debatement, And I did yield to him: But the next morn betimes, Duke. This is most likely ! 2 Ifab. Oh, that it were as like, as it is true! Or else thou art fuborn'd against his honour Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reafon, Ifab. And is this all? Then, oh, you bleffed minifters above! 3 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 prison with her. Shall we thus permit A blafting and a fcandalous breath to fall On him fo near us? this needs must be a practice. Who knew of your intent, and coming hither? Ifab. One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick. Duke. A ghoftly father, belike: Who knows that Lodowick? 2 Oh, that it were as like, as it is true!] Like is not here used for probable, but for feemly. She catches at the Duke's word, and turns it to another fenfe; of which there are a great many examples in Shakespear, and the writers of that time. 3 In countenance: ] i. e. in partial favour. 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 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 yefternight, my lord, fhe and that Friar, I faw them at the prifon: a fawcy Friar, A very scurvy fellow. Peter. Bleffed be your royal Grace! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard 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 fcurvy, nor a temporary medler, As he's reported by this gentleman; And, on my Truft, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, mifreport your Grace. Lucio. My lord, most villainously; believe it. Peter. Well; he in time may come to clear himself; But at this inftant he is fick, my lord, Of a strange fever. On his meer request, (Being come to knowledge that there was Complaint + Whenever he's convented. Firft, for this woman; To 4 Whenever he's CONVEN'D.] The firft Folio reads CONVENTED, and this is right: for to convene fignifies to affemble; but convent, to cite, or fummons. Yet, because convented hurts the measure, the Oxford Editor flicks to conven'd, tho' it be nonfense, and fignifies, Whenever he is affembled together. But thus it will be, when the To juftifie this worthy Nobleman, Duke. Good Friar, let's hear it. Of your own Caufe. Is this the witness, Friar? 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 am 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, shall, for the future, be forgot, as if it had never been. |