LUCIO.
I warrant your honour.
DUKE.
The warrant’s for yourself. Take heed to it.
ISABELLA.
This gentleman told somewhat of my tale.
LUCIO.
Right.
DUKE.
It may be right, but you are i’ the wrong
To speak before your time.—Proceed.
ISABELLA.
I went
To this pernicious caitiff deputy.
DUKE.
That’s somewhat madly spoken.
ISABELLA.
Pardon it;
The phrase is to the matter.
DUKE.
Mended again. The matter; proceed.
ISABELLA.
In brief, to set the needless process by:
How I persuaded, how I prayed and kneeled,
How he refelled me, and how I replied—
For this was of much length—the vile conclusion
I now begin with grief and shame to utter.
He would not, but by gift of my chaste body
To his concupiscible intemperate lust,
Release my brother; and after much debatement,
My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour,
And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes,
His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant
For my poor brother’s head.