Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Isab. Heauen let me beare it: you granting of my suit,
Isab. If that be sin, Ile make it my Morne‑praier,
Isab. To haue it added to the faults of mine,
Isab. And nothing of your answere.
Ang. Ang.
Ang. Nay, but heare me,
Ang. Your sence pursues not mine: either you are ignorant,
Ang. Or seeme so crafty; and that's not good.
Isab. Isab.
Isab. Let be ignorant, and in nothing good,
Isab. But graciously to know I am no better.
Ang. Thus wisdome wishes to appeare most bright,
Ang. When it doth taxe it selfe: As these blacke Masques
Ang. Proclaime an en‑shield beauty ten times louder
Ang. Then beauty could displaied: But marke me,
Ang. To be receiued plaine, Ile speake more grosse:
Ang. Your Brother is to dye.
Isab. So.