MARIANA. Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face Until my husband bid me. DUKE. What, are you married? MARIANA. No, my lord. DUKE. Are you a maid? MARIANA. No, my lord. DUKE. A widow, then? MARIANA. Neither, my lord. DUKE. Why, you are nothing then, neither maid, widow, nor wife? LUCIO. My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. DUKE. Silence that fellow. I would he had some cause to prattle for himself. LUCIO. Well, my lord. MARIANA. My lord, I do confess I ne’er was married, And I confess besides, I am no maid. I have known my husband; yet my husband Knows not that ever he knew me. LUCIO. He was drunk, then, my lord; it can be no better. DUKE. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too. LUCIO. Well, my lord. DUKE. This is no witness for Lord Angelo. MARIANA. Now I come to’t, my lord. She that accuses him of fornication In self-same manner doth accuse my husband, And charges him, my lord, with such a time When I’ll depose I had him in mine arms With all th’ effect of love. ANGELO. Charges she more than me? MARIANA. Not that I know. DUKE. No? You say your husband. MARIANA. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne’er knew my body, But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel’s. ANGELO. This is a strange abuse. Let’s see thy face. MARIANA. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [_Unveiling_.] This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou swor’st was worth the looking on. This is the hand which, with a vowed contract, Was fast belocked in thine. This is the body That took away the match from Isabel And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagined person. DUKE. Know you this woman? LUCIO. Carnally, she says. DUKE. Sirrah, no more. LUCIO. Enough, my lord. ANGELO. My lord, I must confess I know this woman; And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition; but in chief For that her reputation was disvalued In levity. Since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour. MARIANA. Noble Prince, As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man’s wife as strongly As words could make up vows. And, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone, in’s garden-house, He knew me as a wife. As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees, Or else for ever be confixed here, A marble monument! ANGELO. I did but smile till now. Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice. My patience here is touched. I do perceive These poor informal women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, To find this practice out.