Finding yourself desir'd of such a person,
Whose credit with the judge, or own great place,
Could fetch your brother from the manacles
Of the^{5 note}

Isab.
As much for my poor brother, as myself:
That is, Were I under the terms of death,
The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies,
And strip myself to death, as to a bed
That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield
My body up to shame.

Ang.
Then must your brother die.

Isab.
And 'twere the cheaper way:
Better it were, a brother dy'd at once^{6 note}


,
Than that a sister, by redeeming him,
Should die for ever.

Ang.
Were not you then as cruel as the sentence
That you have slander'd so?

Isab.
Ignominy in ransom, and free pardon,
Are of two houses: lawful mercy
Is nothing kin to foul redemption.

Ang.
You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant;
And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother
A merriment than a vice.

Isab.
O pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out,
To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean:
I something do excuse the thing I hate,
For his advantage that I dearly love.

Ang.
We are all frail.

Isab.
Else let my brother die,
If not a feodary, but only he^{7 note}

Ang.
Nay, women are frail too.

Isab.
Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;
Which are as easy broke as they make forms^{9 note}

.

Women!—Help heaven! men their creation mar
^{1 note}In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail;
For we are as soft as our complexions are,
And credulous to false prints^{2 note}.

Ang.
I think it well:
And from this testimony of your own sex,
(Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger,
Than faults may shake our frames) let me be bold,—
I do arrest your words; Be that you are,
That is, a woman; if you be more, you're none;
If you be one (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants) shew it now,
By putting on the destin'd livery.

Isab.
I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord,
Let me intreat you, speak the former language^{3 note}

Ang.
Plainly conceive, I love you.

Isab.
My brother did love Juliet;
And you tell me, that he shall die for it.

Ang.
He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.

Isab.
I know, your virtue hath a licence in't^{4 note},
Which seems a little fouler than it is^{5 note}



,
To pluck on others.

Ang.
Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.

Isab.
Ha! little honour to be much believed,
And most pernicious purpose!—Seeming, seeming^{6 note}!—
I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't:
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,
Or, with an out-stretch'd throat, I'll tell the world
Aloud, what man thou art.

Ang.
Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life,
^{7 note}

That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will;
Or else he must not only die the death^{1 note}

Isab.
To whom should I complain? Did I tell this,
Who would believe me? O perilous mouths,
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue,
Either of condemnation or approof!
Bidding the law make court'sy to their will;
Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite,
To follow, as it draws! I'll to my brother:
Though he hath fallen by prompture^{2 note} of the blood,
Yet hath he in him ^{3 note}

such a mind of honour,
That had he twenty heads to tender down

On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up,
Before his sister should her body stoop
To such abhorr'd pollution.
Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die:
More than our brother is our chastity.
I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request,
And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit.

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