EVAD. Nurse, pray leave us, your presence makes your sweetheart negligent of what he comes about; pray, be won to leave us here. NUR. Madam, your will's obey'd: Yet I can hardly pass from thee, my love, At such a sudden warning. GIO. Your eager love may be termed dotage; For shame! confine[20] yourself to less expressions, [And] leave my lady. NUR. A kiss, and then I go; so, farewell, my duck. [_Exit._ GIO. Death, she has left a scent to poison me; Love her, said she? is any man so mad to hug a disease, Or embrace a colder image than Pygmalion's, Or play with the bird of Frosty antiquity? not I: Her gums stink worse than a pest-house, And more danger of infecting. [_Aside._ As I'm a mortal tailor, and your servant, madam, Her breath has tainted me: I dare not salute Your ladyship. EVAD. Come, you are loth to part with't, 'tis so sweet. GIO. Sweet, say you, madam? a muster of diseases Can't smell worse than her rotten teeth. Excuse my boldness, to defer your longing; Thus I am new-created with your breath. [_Kisses._ My gaping pores will ne'er be satisfied. Again!--they still are hungry. EVAD. My dear friend, let not thy lovely person March with the scolding peace-affrighting drum: War is too cruel: come, I'll chain You here--here in my arms; and stifle you With kisses; you sha' not go--by this, you sha' not go. GIO. By this, I must. [_He kisses her._ EVAD. I'll smother that harsh breath. [_She kisses him._ GIO. Again I countercheck it. [_Kiss._ _Enter_ ANTONIO, _as pursued; he sees them, and stands amazed_. ANT. O sister! ha! What killing sight is this? cannot be she. Sister. EVAD. O my dear friend, my brother! w' are undone. ANT. Degenerate girl, lighter than wind or air! Canst thou forget thy birth? or, 'cause thou'rt fair, Art privileg'd, dost think, with such a zeal To grasp an under-shrub? dare you exchange Breath with your tailors without fear of vengeance From the disturbed ghosts of our dead parents, For their blood's injury? or are your favours Grown prostitute to all? my unkind fate Grieves me not half so much as thee forgetful. GIO. Sir, if on me this language, I must tell you, You are too rash to censure. My unworthiness, That makes me[21] seem so ugly in your eyes, Perhaps hangs in these clothes, and's shifted off with them. I am as noble, but that I hate to make Comparisons, as any you can think worthy To be call'd her husband. ANT. Shred of a slave, thou liest! GIO. Sir, I am hasty too; yet, in the presence of My mistress [I] can use a temper. ANT. [O] brave! your mistress! _Enter_ MACHIAVEL _with Officers_. MACH. Lay hold on him! Ere we presume to meet the enemy, We'll purge the city; lest the wrath of Heaven Fall heavy on us. Antonio, I arrest thee Of capital treason 'gainst the king and realm. To prison with him! EVAD. O my lost brother!