Page 1135 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

I know your virtue hath a licence in’t,
Which seems a little fouler than it is, [145]
To pluck on others.

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

ISABELLA
Ha? Little honour, to be much believ’d,
And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming!
I will proclaim thee, Angelo, look for’t. [150]
Sign me a present pardon for my brother,

Or with an outstretch’d throat I’ll tell the world aloud
What man thou art.

ANGELO
Who will believe thee, Isabel?
My unsoil’d name, th’austereness of my life,
My vouch against you, and my place i’th’state [155]

Will so your accusation overweigh,
That you shall stifle in your own report,
And smell of calumny. I have begun,

And now I give my sensual race the rein:
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite; [160]
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes
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,
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out [165]
To ling’ring sufferance. Answer me tomorrow,

Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
I’ll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
Say what you can: my false o’erweighs your true.
Exit.

ISABELLA
To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, [170]