Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Isab. Isab.
Isab. Oh giue me pardon
Isab. That I, your vassaile, haue imploid, and pain'd
Isab. Your vnknowne Soueraigntie.
Duk. Duk.
Duk. You are pardon'd Isabell:
Duk. And now, deere Maide, be you as free to vs.
Duk. Your Brothers death I know sits at your heart:
Duk. And you may maruaile, why I obscur'd my selfe,
Duk. Labouring to saue his life: and would not rather
Duk. Make rash remonstrance of my hidden powre,
Duk. Then let him so be lost: oh most kinde Maid,
Duk. It was the swift celeritie of his death,
Duk. Which I did thinke, with slower foot came on,
Duk. That brain'd my purpose: but peace be with him,
Duk. That life is better life past fearing death,
Duk. Then that which liues to feare: make it your comfort,
Duk. So
Duk. Measure for Measure.
Duk. So happy is your Brother.