“Should she kneel down in mercy of this fact, Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror. Mari. Isabel, 435 Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing,—I'll speak all. They say, best men are moulded out of faults; And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad: so may my husband. 440 O Isabel, will you not lend a knee? DUKE. He dies for Claudio's death.
Isab. Most bounteous sir, Kneeling. Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd,”