DUKE.
This is most likely!
ISABELLA.
O, that it were as like as it is true!
DUKE.
By heaven, fond wretch, thou know’st not what thou speak’st,
Or else thou art suborned against his honour
In hateful practice. First, his integrity
Stands without blemish; next, it imports no reason
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himself. If he had so offended,
He would have weighed thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off. Someone hath set you on.
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
Thou cam’st here to complain.
ISABELLA.
And is this all?
Then, O you blessed ministers above,
Keep me in patience, and with ripened time
Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up
In countenance! Heaven shield your Grace from woe,
As I, thus wronged, hence unbelieved go.
DUKE.
I know you’d fain be gone. An officer!
To prison with her! Shall we thus permit
A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall
On him so near us? This needs must be a practice.
Who knew of your intent and coming hither?
ISABELLA.
One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.
[Exeunt Officer with Isabella.]
DUKE.
A ghostly father, belike. Who knows that Lodowick?
LUCIO.
My lord, I know him. ’Tis a meddling friar.
I do not like the man. Had he been lay, my lord,
For certain words he spake against your Grace
In your retirement, I had swinged him soundly.
DUKE.
Words against me? This’s a good friar, belike.
And to set on this wretched woman here
Against our substitute! Let this friar be found.