I'll lend you all my life, to do you fervice.
DUKE. Against all sense you do importune her;
Should the kneel down, in mercy of this fact,
Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break,
And take her hence in horror.

MARI. Ifabel,

Sweet Ifabel, do yet but kneel by me;

Hold up your hands, fay nothing; I'll fpeak all-
They say, best men are moulded out of faults ;
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad: fo may my hufband.

-Oh, Isabel! will you not lend a knee?
DUKE. He dies for Claudio's death.

ISAB. Moft bounteous Sir,

Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
As if my brother liv'd, I partly think,
A due fincerity govern'd his deeds,
"Till he did look on me; fmce it is fo,

Let him not die. My brother had but justice,
In that he did the thing for which he dy❜d.
For Angelo,

His act did not o'ertake his bad intent;

And must be bury'd but as an intent,

[Kneeling.

That perifh'd by the way: thoughts are no fubjects:

Intents, but meerly thoughts.

MARI. Meerly, my lord.

DUKE. Your fuit's unprofitable; stand up, I say

I have bethought me of another fault.

Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded
At an unusual hour?

PROV. It was commanded fo.

DUKE. Had you a fpecial warrant for the deed?

PROV. No, my good lord; it was by private message.
DUKE. For which I do discharge you of your office.
Give up your keys.

PROV. Pardon me, noble lord.

I thought it was a fault, but knew it not;
Yet did repent me, after more advice:
For teftimony whereof, one in the prifon,
That fhould by private order else have dy'd,
I have referv'd alive.

DUKE. What's he?

PROV. His name is Barnardine.

DUKE. I would, thou had'ft done fo by Claudio

Go, fetch him hither; let me look upon him. [Exit Prov.
ESCAL. I'm forry one fo learned and so wife
As you, lord Angelo, have still appear'd,
Should flip fo grofsly both in heat of blood,
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.
ANG. I'm forry, that fuch forrow I procure;
And fo deep sticks it in my penitent heart,
That I crave death more willingly than mercy:
'Tis my deferving, and I do intreat it.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Julietta. DUKE. Which is that Barnardine?

PROV. 'Tis this, my lord.

DUKE. There was a Friar told me of this man.

Sirrah, thou'rt faid to have a stubborn foul,

That apprehends no further than this world;
And fquar'ft thy life accordingly: thou'rt condemn'd,
But for those earthly faults, I quit them all:
I pray thee, take this mercy to provide

For better times to come.

I leave him to your hand.

Friar, advise him;

What muffled fellow's that?

PROV. This is another prifoner, that I fav'd,
Who should have dy'd when Claudio lost his head;
As like almost to Claudio, as himself.

DUKE. If he be like your brother, for his fake
Is he pardon'd; and for your lovely fake,
(Give me your hand, and fay, you will be mine)
He is my brother too; but fitter time for that.
By this, lord Angelo perceives he's fafe;
Methinks, I fee a quickning in his eye.

Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well:

[To Ifab.

Look, that you love your wife; her worth, worth yours. I find an apt remiffion in myfelf,

And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon.

You, firrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward, [To Lucio. One of all luxury, an afs, a madman;

Wherein have I deferved fo of you,

That you extol me thus ?

Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I fpoke it but according to the
trick; if you will hang me for it, you may; but I had ra-
ther it would please you, I might be whipt.
DUKE. Whipt first, Sir, and hang'd after.
Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city;
If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow,
As I have heard him fwear himself, there's one
Whom he begot with child; let her appear,
And he fhall marry her. The nuptial finish'd,
Let him be whipt and hang'd.

LUCIO. I beseech your highnefs, do not marry me to a whore. Your highnefs faid even now, I made you a duke;

good my lord, do not recompence me, in making me a cuckold.

DUKE. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.

Thy flanders I forgive, and therewithal

Remit thy other forfeits.-Take him to prison:

And see our pleasure herein executed.

LUCIO. Marrying a punk, my lord, is preffing to death,

whipping and hanging.

DUKE. Sland'ring a prince deserves it.

She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore.

Joy to you, Mariana-love her, Angelo;

I have confefs'd her, and I know her virtue.
Thanks, good friend Efcalus, for thy much goodness.
Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrefie;

We shall employ thee in a worthier place.
Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's.

ANG. The offence pardons itself.
DUKE. There's more behind

That is more gratulate. Dear Ifabel,

I have a motion much imports your good,

Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline,

What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine:
So bring us to our palace, where we'll show
What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know.

[Exeunt.