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As e'er I heard in madness.
ISABELLA:
O gracious duke,
Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason
For inequality; but let your reason serve
To make the truth appear where it seems hid,
And hide the false seems true.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
Many that are not mad
Have, sure, more lack of reason. What would you say?
ISABELLA:
I am the sister of one Claudio,
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication
To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo:
I, in probation of a sisterhood,
Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio
As then the messenger,--
LUCIO:
That's I, an't like your grace:
I came to her from Claudio, and desired her
To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo
For her poor brother's pardon.
ISABELLA:
That's he indeed.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
You were not bid to speak.
LUCIO:
No, my good lord;
Nor wish'd to hold my peace.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
I wish you now, then;
Pray you, take note of it: and when you have
A business for yourself, pray heaven you then
Be perfect.
LUCIO:
I warrant your honour.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
The warrants for yourself; take heed to't.
ISABELLA:
This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,--
LUCIO:
Right.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
It may be right; but you are i' the wrong
To speak before your time. Proceed.
ISABELLA:
I went
To this pernicious caitiff deputy,--
DUKE VINCENTIO:
That's somewhat madly spoken.
ISABELLA:
Pardon it;
The phrase is to the matter.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
Mended again. The matter; proceed.
ISABELLA:
In brief, to set the needless process by,
How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd,
How he refell'd me, and how I replied,--
For this was of much length,--the vile conclusion
I now begin with grief and shame to utter:
He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupiscible intemperate lust,
Release my brother; and, after much debatement,
My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,
And I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes,
His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
For my poor brother's head.
DUKE VINCENTIO:
This is most likely!
ISABELLA:
O, that it were as like as it is true!
DUKE VINCENTIO:
By heaven, fond wretch, thou knowist not what thou speak'st,
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour
In hateful practise. First, his integrity
Stands without blemish. Next, it imports no reason
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended,