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In your close patience.
ISABELLA:
O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes!
DUKE VINCENTIO:
You shall not be admitted to his sight.
ISABELLA:
Unhappy Claudio! wretched Isabel!
Injurious world! most damned Angelo!
DUKE VINCENTIO:
This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot;
Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven.
Mark what I say, which you shall find
By every syllable a faithful verity:
The duke comes home to-morrow; nay, dry your eyes;
One of our convent, and his confessor,
Gives me this instance: already he hath carried
Notice to Escalus and Angelo,
Who do prepare to meet him at the gates,
There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom
In that good path that I would wish it go,
And you shall have your bosom on this wretch,
Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart,
And general honour.
ISABELLA:
I am directed by you.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
This letter, then, to Friar Peter give;
'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return:
Say, by this token, I desire his company
At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours
I'll perfect him withal, and he shall bring you
Before the duke, and to the head of Angelo
Accuse him home and home. For my poor self,
I am combined by a sacred vow
And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter:
Command these fretting waters from your eyes
With a light heart; trust not my holy order,
If I pervert your course. Who's here?
LUCIO:
Good even. Friar, where's the provost?
DUKE VINCENTIO:
Not within, sir.
LUCIO:
O pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see
thine eyes so red: thou must be patient. I am fain
to dine and sup with water and bran; I dare not for
my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set
me to 't. But they say the duke will be here
to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother:
if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been
at home, he had lived.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholding to your
reports; but the best is, he lives not in them.
LUCIO:
Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do:
he's a better woodman than thou takest him for.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well.
LUCIO:
Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee
I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
You have told me too many of him already, sir, if
they be true; if not true, none were enough.
LUCIO:
I was once before him for getting a wench with child.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
Did you such a thing?
LUCIO:
Yes, marry, did I but I was fain to forswear it;
they would else have married me to the rotten medlar.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well.
LUCIO:
By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end:
if bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of
it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick.
ESCALUS:
Every letter he hath writ hath disvouched other.