Page 1136 - Shakespeare - Vol. 3

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 curtsey to their will,

Hooking both right and wrong to th’appetite, [175]
To follow as it draws! I’ll to my brother.
Though he hath fall’n by prompture of the blood,
Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour,

That had he twenty heads to tender down
On twenty bloody blocks, he’d yield them up [180]
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, [185]
And fit his mind to death, for his soul’s rest.

Exit.