Ele. O, is he so?
Roderigo asketh me for Isabel.
Phil. I say, my lord, she's free.
Ele. O, is she so?
Phil. Believe me, lords.
Hor. And me.
Phil. I set Philippo——
Hor. I, Hortenzo free.
Ele. My lords, because you shall believe me too,
Go to the castle: I will follow you.
Alv. Thanks to the mighty Moor; and, for his fame,
Be more in honour than thou art in name:
But let me wish the other prisoners well,
The queen and cardinal: let all have right,
Let law absolve them, or dissolve them quite.
Ele. Grave man, thy grey hairs paint out gravity,
Thy counsels wisdom, thy wit policy.
There let us meet, and with a general brain
Erect the peace of spirit and of Spain.