Isab.
She'll take the enterprize upon her, father,
If you advise it.

Duke.
'Tis not my consent,
But my intreaty too.

Isab.
Little have you to say
When you depart from him, but soft and low.
Remember now my brother.

Mari.
Fear me not.

Duke.
Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all:
He is your husband on a pre-contract;
To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin,
Sith that the justice of your title to him
Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go;
Our corn's to reap, for yet our tythe's to sow. [Exeunt.

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