[The PROVOST lays hands on the DUKE] DUKE. Stay, sir; stay awhile. ANGELO. What, resists he? Help him, Lucio. 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 hang'd 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 mad'st a duke. First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three. [To Lucio] Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and you Must have a word anon. Lay hold on him. LUCIO. This may prove worse than hanging. DUKE. [To ESCALUS] What you have spoke I pardon; sit you down. We'll borrow place of him. [To ANGELO] Sir, by your leave. Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence, That yet can do thee office? If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out. ANGELO. O my dread lord, I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible, When I perceive your Grace, like pow'r divine, Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good Prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession; Immediate sentence then, and sequent death, Is all the grace I beg. DUKE. Come hither, Mariana. Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? ANGELO. I was, my lord. DUKE. Go, take her hence and marry her instantly. Do you the office, friar; which consummate, Return him here again. Go with him, Provost. Exeunt ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and PROVOST ESCALUS. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonour Than at the strangeness of it. DUKE. Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince. As I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney'd at your service. ISABELLA. O, give me pardon, That I, your vassal have employ'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty. DUKE. You are pardon'd, Isabel. And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart; And you may marvel why I obscur'd myself, Labouring to save his life, and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden pow'r Than let him so be lost. O most kind maid, It was the swift celerity of his death, Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain'd my purpose. But peace be with him! That life is better life, past fearing death, Than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort, So happy is your brother. ISABELLA. I do, my lord. Re-enter ANGELO, MARIANA, FRIAR PETER, and PROVOST