Pro. Pray heauen she win him
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with our selfe,
Great men may iest with Saints: tis wit in them,
But in the lesse fowle prophanation
Luc. Thou'rt i'th right (Girle) more o'that
Isab. That in the Captaine's but a chollericke word,
Which in the Souldier is flat blasphemie
Luc. Art auis'd o'that? more on't
Ang. Why doe you put these sayings vpon me?
Isab. Because Authoritie, though it erre like others,
Hath yet a kinde of medicine in it selfe
That skins the vice o'th top; goe to your bosome,
Knock there, and aske your heart what it doth know
That's like my brothers fault: if it confesse
A naturall guiltinesse, such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought vpon your tongue
Against my brothers life
Ang. Shee speakes, and 'tis such sence
That my Sence breeds with it; fare you well
Isab. Gentle my Lord, turne backe
Ang. I will bethinke me: come againe to morrow
Isa. Hark, how Ile bribe you: good my Lord turn back