LUCIO.
Art advised o’ that? More on’t.
ANGELO.
Why do you put these sayings upon me?
ISABELLA.
Because authority, though it err like others,
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself
That skins the vice o’ th’ top. Go to your bosom,
Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
That’s like my brother’s fault. If it confess
A natural guiltiness such as is his,
Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue
Against my brother’s life.
ANGELO.
She speaks, and ’tis such sense
That my sense breeds with it. [Going.]
Fare you well.
ISABELLA.
Gentle my lord, turn back.
ANGELO.
I will bethink me. Come again tomorrow.
ISABELLA.
Hark how I’ll bribe you. Good my lord, turn back.
ANGELO.
How? Bribe me?
ISABELLA.
Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you.
LUCIO.
You had marred all else.