ALER. But you appear fresh as a city bridegroom, That has sign'd his wife a warrant for the Grafting of horns; how fares Belinda After the weight of so much sin? you lay with her To-night; come, speak, did you take up on trust, Or have you pawn'd a colony of oaths? Or an embroidered belt? or have you ta'en The courtier's trick, to lay your sword at mortgage? Or perhaps a feather? 'twill serve in traffic, To return her ladyship a fan, or so. PAN. Y' are merry. FUL. Come, be free, Leave modesty for women to gild Their pretty thriving art of plentitude, To enrich their husbands' brows with cornucopias. A soldier, and thus bashful! Pox! be open. PAN. Had I the pox, good colonel, I should stride Far opener than I do; but pox o' the fashion! ALER. Count Antonio. [_To them enter_ ANTONIO. FUL. Though he appear fresh as a bloom That newly kiss'd the sun, adorn'd with pearly Drops, flung from the hand of the rose-finger'd morn, Yet in his heart lives a whole host of valour. PAN. He appears A second Mars. ALER. More powerful, since he holds wisdom And valour captive. FUL. Let us salute him. [_Whilst they salute_ ANTONIO, _enters_ COUNT MACHIAVEL. MACH. Ha! how close they strike, as if they heard A winged thunderbolt [that] threaten'd his death, And each ambitious were to lose his life; So it might purchase him a longer being: Their breath engenders like two peaceful winds, That join a friendly league, and fill the air With silken music; I may pass by, and scarce be spar'd a look, Or any else but young Antonio. Rise from thy scorching den, thou soul of mischief! My blood boils hotter than the poison'd flesh Of Hercules cloth'd in the Centaur's shirt: Swell me, revenge, till I become a hill, High as Olympus' cloud-dividing top; That I might fall, and crush them into air. I'll observe. [_Exit behind the hangings._ ANT. Command, I prythee, all[16] This little world I'm master of contains, And be assur'd 'tis granted; I have a life, I owe to death; and in my country's cause I should---- FUL. Good sir, no more, This ungrateful land owes you too much already. ALER. And you still bind it in stronger bonds. PAN. Your noble deeds that, like to thoughts, outstrip The fleeting clouds, dash all our hopes of payment: We are poor, but in unprofitable thanks; Nay, that cannot rehearse enough your merit. ANT. I dare not hear this; pardon, bashful ears, For suffering such a scarlet to o'erspread Your burning portals. Gentlemen, your discourses taste of court, They have a relish of known flattery; I must deny to understand their folly: Your pardon, I must leave you: Modesty commands. FUL. Your honour's vassals.