I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love. We are all frail. Else let my brother die, If not a feodary, but only he Owe and succeed thy weakness. Nay, women are frail too. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves; Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women! Help Heaven! men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints. 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, show it now, By putting on the destined livery. I have no tongue but one: gentle my lord, Let me entreat you speak the former language. Plainly conceive, I love you. My brother did love Juliet, And you tell me that he shall die for it. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. I know your virtue hath a licence in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is, To pluck on others. Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. Ha! little honour to be much believed, And most pernicious purpose! Seeming, seeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for't: Sign me a present pardon for my brother, Or with an outstretch'd throat I'll tell the world aloud What man thou art. Who will believe thee, Isabel? My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i' the state, 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; 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 To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow, 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. To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous