ANT. O good colonel, be more a soldier, Leave compliments for those that live at ease, To stuff their table-books; and o'er a board, Made gaudy with some pageant, beside custards, Whose quaking strikes a fear into the eaters, Dispute 'em in a fashionable method. A soldier's language should be (as his calling) Rough, to declare he is a man of fire. Farewell without the straining of a sinew, No superstitious cringe! adieu! [_Exit._ ALER. Is't not a hopeful lord? Nature to him has chain'd the people's hearts; Each to his saint offers a form of prayer For young Antonio. PAN. And in that loved name pray for the kingdom's good. FUL. Count Machiavel! _Enter_ MACHIAVEL _from behind the hangings_. ALER. Let's away. [_Exeunt_: _manet_ MACHIAVEL. MACH. Heart, wilt not burst with rage, to see these slaves Fawn like to whelps on young Antonio, And fly from me as from infection? Death, Confusion, and the list of all diseases, wait upon your lives Till you be ripe for hell, which when it gapes, May it devour you all: stay, Machi'vel, Leave this same idle chat, it becomes woman That has no strength, but what her tongue Makes a monopoly; be more a man, Think, think; in thy brain's mint Coin all thy thoughts to mischief: That may act revenge at full. Plot, plot, tumultuous thoughts, incorporate; Beget a lump, howe'er deform'd, that may at length, Like to a cub lick'd by the careful dam, Become (like to my wishes) perfect vengeance. Antonio, ay, Antonio--nay, all, Rather than lose my will, shall headlong fall Into eternal ruin; my thoughts are high. Death, sit upon my brow; let every frown Banish a soul that stops me of a crown. [_Exit._ _Enter_ EVADNE _and_ NURSE. EVAD. The tailor yet return'd, nurse? NUR. Madam, not yet. EVAD. I wonder why he makes gowns so imperfect; They need so many says. NUR. Truly, in sooth, and in good deed, la, madam, The stripling is in love: deep, deep in love. EVAD. Ha! Does his soul shoot with an equal dart From the commanding bow of love's great god, Keep passionate time with mine? or has She spi'd my error to reflect with eager beams Of thirsty love upon a tailor, being myself Born high? [_Aside._]----I must know more-- In love, good nurse, with whom? NUR. Truly, madam, 'tis a fortune, Cupid, good lad--prais'd be his godhead for't, Has thrown upon me, and I am proud on't; O, 'tis a youth jocund as sprightly May, One that will do discreetly with a wife, Board her without direction from the stars, Or counsel from the moon to do for physic; No, he's a back;--O, 'tis a back indeed! EVAD. Fie! this becomes you not. NUR. Besides, he is of all that conquering calling, A tailor, madam: O, 'tis a taking trade! What chambermaid--with reverence may I speak of those lost maidenheads-- Could long hold out against a tailor? EVAD. Y' are uncivil. NUR. What aged female, for I must confess I am worn threadbare-- Would not be turn'd, and live a marriage life, To purchase heaven? EVAD. Heaven----