_Caſ_. Where is my brother Hector?
_And_. Here, sister, arm’d, and bloody in intent.
Consort with me in loud and dear petition,
Pursue we him on knees; for I have dreamt
Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaughter.
_Caſ_. O, ’tis true!
_Hect_. Ho! bid my trumpet sound.
_Caſ_. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet brother!
_Hect_. Be gone, I say. The gods have heard me swear.
_Caſ_. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows;
They are polluted off’rings, more abhorr’d
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
_And_. O, be persuaded! Do not count it holy
To hurt by being just. It is as lawful,
For we would give much, to use violent thefts
And rob in the behalf of charity.
_Caſ_. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow;
But vows to every purpose must not hold.
Unarm, sweet Hector.
_Hect_. Hold you still, I say.
Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate.
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man
Holds honour far more precious dear than life.