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 power divine,
Hath looked 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 amazed 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
Attorneyed at your service.
ISABELLA.
O, give me pardon,
That I, your vassal, have employed and pained
Your unknown sovereignty.