Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mar. I'll lend you all my life to doe you seruice.
Duke. Duke.
Duke. Against all sence you doe importune her,
Duke. Should she kneele downe, in mercie of this fact,
Duke. Her Brothers ghost, his paued bed would breake,
Duke. And take her hence in horror.
Mar. Mar.
Mar. Isabell:
Mar. Sweet Isabel, doe yet but kneele by me,
Mar. Hold vp your hands, say nothing: I'll speake all.
Mar. They say best men are moulded out of faults,
Mar. And for the most, become much more the better
Mar. For being a little bad: So may my husband.
Mar. Oh Isabel: will you not lend a knee?
Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.
Isab. Isab.
Isab. Most bounteous Sir.
Isab. Looke if it please you, on this man condemn'd,
Isab. As if my Brother liu'd: I partly thinke,