Escal.
My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonour,
Than at the strangeness of it.

Duke.
Come hither, Isabel;
Your Friar is now your prince: as I was then
Advertising, and holy to your business,

Not changing heart with habit, I am still
Attornied at your service.

Isab.
Oh, give me pardon,
That I, your vassal, have employ'd and pain'd
Your unknown sovereignty.

Duke.
You are pardon'd, Isabel.
And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.
Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart:
And you may marvel, why I obscur'd myself,
Labouring to save his life; and would not rather
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power,
Than let him be so lost: Oh, most kind maid,
It was the swift celerity of his death,
Which, I did think, with slower foot came on,
* ^noteThat bain'd my purpose: but peace be with him!
That life is better life, past fearing death,
Than that which lives to fear; make it your comfort;
So, happy is your brother.

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