Ant. With my soul I wish her; and my body
Shall perish, but I'll injoy my souls wish.
I would have slain my friend for his deceit,
But I do find his own deceit hath paid him.
Jul. Will you vex my soul forth? no other choice
But where my hate is rooted? Come hither Girl,
Whose pretty maid art thou?
Ism. The child of a poor man, Sir.
Jul. The better for it. With my Soveraigns leave,
I'll wed thee to this man, will he, nill he.
Phil. Pardon me, Sir, I'll be no Love enforcer:
I use no power of mine unto those ends.
Jul. Wilt thou have him?
Ism. Not unless he love me.
Ant. I do love thee: Farewell all other Beauties:
I settle here: you are Ismenia.
Ism. The same I was: better nor worse, (Antonio)
Ant. I shall have your consent here, I'm sure, Sir.