Isa. He shall not end so soon. Father, dear father!
Fer. Forbear, sweet Isabella: shrieks are vain.
Isa. You cry forbear; you by his loss of breath
Have won a kingdom, you may cry forbear:
But I have lost a father and a king,
And no tongue shall control my sorrowing.
Hor. Whither, good Isabella?
Isa. I will go
Where I will languish in eternal woe.
Hor. Nay, gentle love.
Isa. Talk not of love to me,
The world and the world's pride henceforth I'll scorn.
[Exit.
Hor. My love shall follow thee; if thou deny'st
To live with poor Hortenzo as his wife,
I'll never change my love, but change my life.