Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Isab. Th'impression of keene whips, I'ld weare as Rubies,
Isab. And strip my selfe to death, as to a bed,
Isab. That longing haue bin sicke for, ere I'ld yeeld
Isab. My body vp to shame.
Isab. Ang. That
Isab. Measure for Measure.
Ang. Ang.
Ang. Then must your brother die.
Isa. Isa.
Isa. And 'twer the cheaper way:
Isa. Better it were a brother dide at once,
Isa. Then that a sister, by redeeming him
Isa. Should die for euer.
Ang. Were not you then as cruell as the Sentence,
Ang. That you haue slander'd so?
Isa. Ignomie in ransome, and free pardon
Isa. Are of two houses: lawfull mercie,
Isa. Is nothing kin to fowle redemption.