PROVOST.
This, my lord.
DUKE.
There was a friar told me of this man.
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul
That apprehends no further than this world,
And squar’st thy life according. Thou’rt condemned;
But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all,
And pray thee take this mercy to provide
For better times to come. Friar, advise him;
I leave him to your hand.—What muffled fellow’s that?
PROVOST.
This is another prisoner that I saved,
Who should have died when Claudio lost his head;
As like almost to Claudio as himself.
[Unmuffles Claudio.]
DUKE.
[To Isabella.] If he be like your brother, for his sake
Is he pardoned; and for your lovely sake,
Give me your hand and say you will be mine.
He is my brother too. But fitter time for that.
By this Lord Angelo perceives he’s safe;
Methinks I see a quick’ning in his eye.
Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well.
Look that you love your wife, her worth worth yours.
I find an apt remission in myself.
And yet here’s one in place I cannot pardon.
[To Lucio.] You, sirrah, that knew me for a fool, a coward,
One all of luxury, an ass, a madman.
Wherein have I so deserved of you
That you extol me thus?
LUCIO.
Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it, you may, but I had rather it would please you I might be whipped.
DUKE.
Whipped first, sir, and hanged after.
Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city,
If any woman wronged by this lewd fellow,
As I have heard him swear himself there’s one
Whom he begot with child—let her appear,
And he shall marry her. The nuptial finished,
Let him be whipped and hanged.
LUCIO.
I beseech your Highness, do not marry me to a whore. Your highness said even now I made you a duke; good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold.
DUKE.
Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her.
Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal
Remit thy other forfeits.—Take him to prison,
And see our pleasure herein executed.
LUCIO.
Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging.