Cla. Am I catcht thus?
Lop. The Law shall catch ye better.
Isab. You make a trade of betraying Womens honors,
And think it noble in ye to be lustful,
Report of me hereafter—
Cla. Fool'd thus finely?
Lop. I must intreat ye walk, Sir, to the Justice,
Where if he'll bid ye kill me—
Cla. Pray stay awhile, Sir,
I must use a Players shift, do you know me now Lady?
Lop. Your brother Claudio sure.
Isab. Oh me, 'tis he Sir,
Oh my best brother.
Cla. My best sister now too,
I have tryed ye, found ye so, and now I love ye,
Love ye so truly nobly.
Lop. Sir, I thank ye,
You have made me a most happy man.