Part 42

Then did Isabel appeal for the truth of what she had said to Friar Lodowick, that being the name the duke had assumed in his disguise. Isabel and Mariana had both obeyed his instructions in what they said, the duke intending that the innocence of Isabel should be plainly proved in that public manner before the whole city of Vienna; but Angelo little thought that it was from such a cause that they thus differed in their story, and he hoped from their contradictory evidence to be able to clear himself from the accusation of Isabel; and he said, assuming the look of offended innocence:

“I did but smile till now; but, good my lord, my patience here is touched, and I perceive these poor, distracted women are but the instruments of some greater one who sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, to find this practice out.”

“Aye, with all my heart,” said the duke, “and punish them to the height of your pleasure. You, Lord Escalus, sit with Lord Angelo, lend him your pains to discover this abuse; the friar is sent for that set them on, and when he comes do with your injuries as may seem best in any chastisement. I for a while will leave you, but stir not you, Lord Angelo, till you have well determined upon this slander.” The duke then went away, leaving Angelo well pleased to be deputed judge and umpire in his own cause. But the duke was absent only while he threw off his royal robes and put on his friar’s habit; and in that disguise again he presented himself before Angelo and Escalus. And the good old Escalus, who thought Angelo had been falsely accused, said to the supposed friar, “Come, sir, did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo?”

He replied: “Where is the duke? It is he who should hear me speak.”

Escalus said: “The duke is in us, and we will hear you. Speak justly.”

“Boldly, at least,” retorted the friar; and then he blamed the duke for leaving the cause of Isabel in the hands of him she had accused, and spoke so freely of many corrupt practices he had observed while, as he said, he had been a looker-on in Vienna, that, Escalus threatened, him with the torture for speaking words against the state and for censuring the conduct of the duke, and ordered him to be taken away to prison. Then, to the amazement of all present, and to the utter confusion of Angelo, the supposed friar threw off his disguise, and they saw it was the duke himself.

The duke first addressed Isabel. He said to her: “Come hither, Isabel. Your friar is now your prince, but with my habit I have not changed my heart. I am still devoted to your service.”

“Oh, give me pardon,” said Isabel, “that I, your vassal, have employed and troubled your unknown sovereignty.”

He answered that he had most need of forgiveness from her for not having prevented the death of her brother for not yet would he tell her that Claudio was living; meaning first to make a further trial of her goodness.

Angelo now knew the duke had been a secret witness of his bad deeds, and be said: “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, has looked upon my actions. Then, good prince, no longer prolong my shame, but let my trial be my own confession. Immediate sentence and death is all the grace I beg.”

The duke replied: “Angelo, thy faults are manifest. We do condemn thee to the very block where Claudio stooped to death, and with like haste away with him; and for his possessions, Mariana, we do instate and widow you withal, to buy you a better husband.”

“O my dear lord,” said Mariana, “I crave no other, nor no better man!” And then on her knees, even as Isabel had begged the life of Claudio, did this kind wife of an ungrateful husband beg the life of Angelo; and she said: “Gentle my liege, O good my lord! Sweet Isabel, take my part! Lend me your knees and all my life to come I will lend you all my life, to do you service!”

The duke said: “Against all sense you importune her. Should Isabel kneel down to beg for mercy, her brother’s ghost would break his paved bed and take her hence in horror.”

Still Mariana said: “Isabel, sweet Isabel, do but kneel by me, hold up your hand, say nothing! I will speak all. They say best men are molded out of faults, and for the most part become much the better for being a little bad. So may my husband. O Isabel! will you not lend a knee?”

The duke then said, “He dies for Claudio.” But much pleased was the good duke when his own Isabel, from whom he expected all gracious and honorable acts, kneeled down before him, and said: “Most bounteous sir, look, if it please you, on this man condemned, as if my brother lived. I partly think a due sincerity governed his deeds till he did look on me. Since it is so, let him not die! My brother had but justice in that he did the thing for which he died.”

The duke, as the best reply he could make to this noble petitioner for her enemy’s life, sending for Claudio from his prisonhouse, where he lay doubtful of his destiny, presented to her this lamented brother living; and he said to Isabel: “Give me your hand, Isabel. For your lovely sake I pardon Claudio. Say you will be mine, and he shall be my brother, too.”

By this time Lord Angelo perceived he was safe; and the duke, observing his eye to brighten up a little, said:

“Well, Angelo, look that you love your wife; her worth has obtained your pardon. Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo! I have confessed her and know her virtue.”

Angelo remembered, when dressed in a little brief authority, how hard his heart had been, and felt how sweet is mercy.

The duke commanded Claudio to marry Juliet, and offered himself again to the acceptance of Isabel, whose virtuous and noble conduct had won her prince’s heart. Isabel, not having taken the veil, was free to marry; and the friendly offices, while hid under the disguise of a humble friar, which the noble duke had done for her, made her with grateful joy accept the honor he offered her; and when she became Duchess of Vienna the excellent example of the virtuous Isabel worked such a complete reformation among the young ladies of that city, that from that time none ever fell into the transgression of Juliet, the repentant wife of the reformed Claudio. And the mercy-loving duke long reigned with his beloved Isabel, the happiest of husbands and of princes.

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL

Sebastian and his sister Viola, a young gentleman and lady of Messaline, were twins, and (which was accounted a great wonder) from their birth they so much resembled each other that, but for the difference in their dress, they could not be known apart. They were both born in one hour, and in one hour they were both in danger of perishing, for they were shipwrecked on the coast of Illyria, as they were making a sea-voyage together. The ship on board of which they were split on a rock in a violent storm, and a very small number of the ship’s company escaped with their lives. The captain of the vessel, with a few of the sailors that were saved, got to land in a small boat, and with them they brought Viola safe on shore, where she, poor lady, instead of rejoicing at her own deliverance, began to lament her brother’s loss; but the captain comforted her with the assurance that he had seen her brother, when the ship split, fasten himself to a strong mast, on which, as long as he could see anything of him for the distance, he perceived him borne up above the waves. Viola was much consoled by the hope this account gave her, and now considered bow she was to dispose of herself in a strange country, so far from home; and she asked the captain if he knew anything of Illyria.

“Aye, very well, madam,” replied the captain, “for I was born not three hours’ travel from this place.”

“Who governs here?” said Viola. The captain told her Illyria was governed by Orsino, a duke noble in nature as well as dignity.

Viola said, she had heard her father speak of Orsino, and that he was unmarried then.

“And he is so now,” said the captain; “or was so very late for, but a month ago, I went from here, and then it was the general talk (as you know what great ones do, the people will prattle of) that Orsino sought the love of fair Olivia, a virtuous maid, the daughter of a count who died twelve months ago, leaving Olivia to the protection of her brother, who shortly after died also; and for the love of this dear brother, they say, she has abjured the sight and company of men.”

Viola, who was herself in such a sad affliction for her brother’s loss, wished she could live with this lady who so tenderly mourned a brother’s death. She asked the captain if be could introduce her to Olivia, saying she would willingly serve this lady. But he replied this would be a hard thing to accomplish, because the Lady Olivia would admit no person into her house since her brother’s death, not even the duke himself. Then Viola formed another project in her mind, which was, in a man’s habit, to serve the Duke Orsino as a page. It was a strange fancy in a young lady to put on male attire and pass for a boy; but the forlorn and unprotected state of Viola, who was young and of uncommon beauty, alone, and in a foreign land, must plead her excuse.

She having observed a fair behavior in the captain, and that he showed a friendly concern for her welfare, intrusted him with her design, and he readily engaged to assist her. Viola gave him money and directed him to furnish her with suitable apparel, ordering her clothes to be made of the same color and in the same fashion her brother Sebastian used to wear, and when she was dressed in her manly garb she looked so exactly like her brother that some strange errors happened by means of their being mistaken for each other, for, as will afterward appear, Sebastian was also saved.