chosenone80/shak_test · Datasets at Hugging Face

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ISABELLA: It is not truer he is Angelo Than this is all as true as it is strange: Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth To the end of reckoning.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Away with her!
Poor soul, She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.
ISABELLA: O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness!
Make not impossible That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute As Angelo; even so may Angelo, In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince: If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more, Had I more name for badness.
DUKE VINCENTIO: By mine honesty, If she be mad,--as I believe no other,-- Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e'er I heard in madness.
ISABELLA: O gracious duke, Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason For inequality; but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid, And hide the false seems true.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Many that are not mad Have, sure, more lack of reason.
What would you say?
ISABELLA: I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn'd upon the act of fornication To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo: I, in probation of a sisterhood, Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio As then the messenger,-- LUCIO: That's I, an't like your grace: I came to her from Claudio, and desired her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother's pardon.
ISABELLA: That's he indeed.
DUKE VINCENTIO: You were not bid to speak.
LUCIO: No, my good lord; Nor wish'd to hold my peace.
DUKE VINCENTIO: I wish you now, then; Pray you, take note of it: and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven you then Be perfect.
LUCIO: I warrant your honour.
DUKE VINCENTIO: The warrants for yourself; take heed to't.
ISABELLA: This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,-- LUCIO: Right.
DUKE VINCENTIO: 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 VINCENTIO: That's somewhat madly spoken.
ISABELLA: Pardon it; The phrase is to the matter.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Mended again.
The matter; proceed.
ISABELLA: In brief, to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd 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.
DUKE VINCENTIO: This is most likely!
ISABELLA: O, that it were as like as it is true!
DUKE VINCENTIO: By heaven, fond wretch, thou knowist not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour In hateful practise.
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 weigh'd thy brother by himself And not have cut him off.
Some one hath set you on: Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou camest here to complain.
ISABELLA: And is this all?
Then, O you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance!
Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!
DUKE VINCENTIO: I know you'ld 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 practise.
Who knew of Your intent and coming hither?
ISABELLA: One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.
DUKE VINCENTIO: 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 VINCENTIO: Words against me?
this is a good friar, belike!
And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute!
Let this friar be found.
LUCIO: But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow.
FRIAR PETER: Blessed be your royal grace!
I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abused.
First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accused your substitute, Who is as free from touch or soil with her As she from one ungot.
DUKE VINCENTIO: We did believe no less.
Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of?
FRIAR PETER: I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, As he's reported by this gentleman; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.
LUCIO: My lord, most villanously; believe it.
FRIAR PETER: Well, he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick my lord, Of a strange fever.
Upon his mere request, Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither, To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false; and what he with his oath And all probation will make up full clear, Whensoever he's convented.
First, for this woman.
To justify this worthy nobleman, So vulgarly and personally accused, Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Good friar, let's hear it.
Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?
O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools!
Give us some seats.
Come, cousin Angelo; In this I'll be impartial; be you judge Of your own cause.
Is this the witness, friar?
First, let her show her face, and after speak.
MARIANA: Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face Until my husband bid me.
DUKE VINCENTIO: What, are you married?
MARIANA: No, my lord.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Are you a maid?
MARIANA: No, my lord.
DUKE VINCENTIO: A widow, then?
MARIANA: Neither, my lord.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife?
LUCIO: My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause To prattle for himself.
LUCIO: Well, my lord.
MARIANA: My lord; I do confess I ne'er was married; And I confess besides I am no maid: I have known my husband; yet my husband Knows not that ever he knew me.
LUCIO: He was drunk then, my lord: it can be no better.
DUKE VINCENTIO: For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too!
LUCIO: Well, my lord.
DUKE VINCENTIO: This is no witness for Lord Angelo.
MARIANA: Now I come to't my lord She that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband, And charges him my lord, with such a time When I'll depose I had him in mine arms With all the effect of love.
ANGELO: Charges she more than me?
MARIANA: Not that I know.
DUKE VINCENTIO: No?
you say your husband.
MARIANA: Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's.
ANGELO: This is a strange abuse.
Let's see thy face.
MARIANA: My husband bids me; now I will unmask.
This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou sworest was worth the looking on; This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagined person.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Know you this woman?
LUCIO: Carnally, she says.
DUKE VINCENTIO: Sirrah, no more!
LUCIO: Enough, my lord.
ANGELO: My lord, I must confess I know this woman: And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition, but in chief For that her reputation was disvalued In levity: since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour.
MARIANA: Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man's wife as strongly As words could make up vows: and, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone in's garden-house He knew me as a wife.
As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees Or else for ever be confixed here, A marble monument!
ANGELO: I did but smile till now: Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice My patience here is touch'd.

ISABELLA: It is not truer he is Angelo Than this is all as true as it is strange: Nay, it is ten times true; for truth is truth To the end of reckoning.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Away with her!

Poor soul, She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.

ISABELLA: O prince, I conjure thee, as thou believest There is another comfort than this world, That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness!

Make not impossible That which but seems unlike: 'tis not impossible But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute As Angelo; even so may Angelo, In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, Be an arch-villain; believe it, royal prince: If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more, Had I more name for badness.

DUKE VINCENTIO: By mine honesty, If she be mad,--as I believe no other,-- Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e'er I heard in madness.

ISABELLA: O gracious duke, Harp not on that, nor do not banish reason For inequality; but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid, And hide the false seems true.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Many that are not mad Have, sure, more lack of reason.

What would you say?

ISABELLA: I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn'd upon the act of fornication To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo: I, in probation of a sisterhood, Was sent to by my brother; one Lucio As then the messenger,-- LUCIO: That's I, an't like your grace: I came to her from Claudio, and desired her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother's pardon.

ISABELLA: That's he indeed.

DUKE VINCENTIO: You were not bid to speak.

LUCIO: No, my good lord; Nor wish'd to hold my peace.

DUKE VINCENTIO: I wish you now, then; Pray you, take note of it: and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven you then Be perfect.

LUCIO: I warrant your honour.

DUKE VINCENTIO: The warrants for yourself; take heed to't.

ISABELLA: This gentleman told somewhat of my tale,-- LUCIO: Right.

DUKE VINCENTIO: 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 VINCENTIO: That's somewhat madly spoken.

ISABELLA: Pardon it; The phrase is to the matter.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Mended again.

The matter; proceed.

ISABELLA: In brief, to set the needless process by, How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd 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.

DUKE VINCENTIO: This is most likely!

ISABELLA: O, that it were as like as it is true!

DUKE VINCENTIO: By heaven, fond wretch, thou knowist not what thou speak'st, Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour In hateful practise.

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 weigh'd thy brother by himself And not have cut him off.

Some one hath set you on: Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou camest here to complain.

ISABELLA: And is this all?

Then, O you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience, and with ripen'd time Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance!

Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go!

DUKE VINCENTIO: I know you'ld 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 practise.

Who knew of Your intent and coming hither?

ISABELLA: One that I would were here, Friar Lodowick.

DUKE VINCENTIO: 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 VINCENTIO: Words against me?

this is a good friar, belike!

And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute!

Let this friar be found.

LUCIO: But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar, I saw them at the prison: a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow.

FRIAR PETER: Blessed be your royal grace!

I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abused.

First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accused your substitute, Who is as free from touch or soil with her As she from one ungot.

DUKE VINCENTIO: We did believe no less.

Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of?

FRIAR PETER: I know him for a man divine and holy; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, As he's reported by this gentleman; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.

LUCIO: My lord, most villanously; believe it.

FRIAR PETER: Well, he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick my lord, Of a strange fever.

Upon his mere request, Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo, came I hither, To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false; and what he with his oath And all probation will make up full clear, Whensoever he's convented.

First, for this woman.

To justify this worthy nobleman, So vulgarly and personally accused, Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Good friar, let's hear it.

Do you not smile at this, Lord Angelo?

O heaven, the vanity of wretched fools!

Give us some seats.

Come, cousin Angelo; In this I'll be impartial; be you judge Of your own cause.

Is this the witness, friar?

First, let her show her face, and after speak.

MARIANA: Pardon, my lord; I will not show my face Until my husband bid me.

DUKE VINCENTIO: What, are you married?

MARIANA: No, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Are you a maid?

MARIANA: No, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO: A widow, then?

MARIANA: Neither, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Why, you are nothing then: neither maid, widow, nor wife?

LUCIO: My lord, she may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Silence that fellow: I would he had some cause To prattle for himself.

LUCIO: Well, my lord.

MARIANA: My lord; I do confess I ne'er was married; And I confess besides I am no maid: I have known my husband; yet my husband Knows not that ever he knew me.

LUCIO: He was drunk then, my lord: it can be no better.

DUKE VINCENTIO: For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too!

LUCIO: Well, my lord.

DUKE VINCENTIO: This is no witness for Lord Angelo.

MARIANA: Now I come to't my lord She that accuses him of fornication, In self-same manner doth accuse my husband, And charges him my lord, with such a time When I'll depose I had him in mine arms With all the effect of love.

ANGELO: Charges she more than me?

MARIANA: Not that I know.

DUKE VINCENTIO: No?

you say your husband.

MARIANA: Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, But knows he thinks that he knows Isabel's.

ANGELO: This is a strange abuse.

Let's see thy face.

MARIANA: My husband bids me; now I will unmask.

This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou sworest was worth the looking on; This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, Was fast belock'd in thine; this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagined person.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Know you this woman?

LUCIO: Carnally, she says.

DUKE VINCENTIO: Sirrah, no more!

LUCIO: Enough, my lord.

ANGELO: My lord, I must confess I know this woman: And five years since there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition, but in chief For that her reputation was disvalued In levity: since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour.

MARIANA: Noble prince, As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man's wife as strongly As words could make up vows: and, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone in's garden-house He knew me as a wife.

As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees Or else for ever be confixed here, A marble monument!

ANGELO: I did but smile till now: Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice My patience here is touch'd.