DUKE. Convenient is it. Make a swift return; For I would commune with you of such things That want no ear but yours. PROVOST. I’ll make all speed. [_Exit._] ISABELLA. [_Within_.] Peace, ho, be here! DUKE. The tongue of Isabel. She’s come to know If yet her brother’s pardon be come hither. But I will keep her ignorant of her good, To make her heavenly comforts of despair When it is least expected. Enter Isabella. ISABELLA. Ho, by your leave! DUKE. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. ISABELLA. The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the Deputy sent my brother’s pardon? DUKE. He hath released him, Isabel, from the world. His head is off, and sent to Angelo. ISABELLA. Nay, but it is not so. DUKE. It is no other. Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience. ISABELLA. O, I will to him and pluck out his eyes! DUKE. You shall not be admitted to his sight. ISABELLA. Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel! Injurious world! Most damned Angelo! DUKE. 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 tomorrow;—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. 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 tonight. 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? Enter Lucio. LUCIO. Good even. Friar, where is the Provost? DUKE. 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 tomorrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother. If the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home, he had lived. [_Exit Isabella._] DUKE. 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 tak’st him for. DUKE. 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.