« ÎnapoiContinuați »
Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir! come, sir; foh, sir. Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal! you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you! show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! Will't not off? [Pulls off the Friar's hood, and discovers the DUKE.
Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er made a duke.-
Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging.
[To ESCALUS. We'll borrow place of him.-Sir, by your leave:
O my dread lord,
Come hither, Mariana :Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman?
Ang. I was, my lord.
Duke. Go, take her hence and marry her instantly.
[Exeunt ANG., MARI., PET., and PROV.
Come hither, Isabel:
O give me pardon,
You are pardon'd, Isabel.
Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart;
I do, my lord.
Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, PETER, and PROVOST. Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here, Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well-defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake: but as he adjudg'd your brother,Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach Thereon dependent, for your brother's life, The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue, An Angelo for Claudio, death for death. Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and measure still for measure. Then, Angelo, thy fault thus manifested, Which though thou would'st deny, denies thee vantage, We do condemn thee to the
block Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. --Away with him. Mari.
my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband !
Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach your life, And choke your good to come: for his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you withal, To buy you a better husband. Mari.
O my dear lord,
Duke. Never crave him; we are definitive.
You do but lose your labour.Away with him to death.–Now, sir [to Lucro), to you.
Mari. O my good lord !Sweet Isabel, take my part;
Duke. Against all sense you do importune her:
Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.
Most bounteous sir, [Kneeling.
Merely, my lord.
It was commanded so.
Pardon me, noble lord :
His name is Barnardine. Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio.— Go fetch him hither; let me look upon him. [Exit PROVOST.
Escal. I am sorry one so learned and so wise
Ang. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure:
(muffled), and JULIET. Duke. Which is that Barnardine? Prov.
This, my lord.
Prov. This is another prisoner that I sav'd,
sake Is he pardon'd; and, for your lovely sake, Give me your hand, and say you will be mine; He is my brother too: but fitter time for that. By this Lord Angelo perceives he's safe; Methinks I see a quick’ning in his eye.Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well : Look that you love your wife; her worth worth yours.I find an apt remission in myself; And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon.You, sirrah [to LUCIO), that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury, an ass, a madman; Wherein have I so deserved of you That you extol me thus?
Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may; but I had rather it would please you I might be whipped.
Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after.
Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city,
Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore! Your highness said even now I made you a duke; good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold.
Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging. Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it.
[Exeunt Officers with LUCIO. She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore.-Joy to you, Mariana !— Love her, Angelo; I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue.Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness : There's more behind that is more gratulatt. Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrecy; We shall employ thee in a worthier place. Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine for Claudio's: The offence pardons itself.—Dear Isabel, 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.
BELL AND BAIN, PRINTERS, GLASGOW.