_Ant._ Even in that note a fool's beatitude: He is not capable of passion; Wanting the power of distinction, He bears an unturned sail with every wind: 40 Blow east, blow west, he stirs his course alike. I never saw a fool lean: the chub-faced fop Shines sleek with full-cramm'd fat of happiness, Whilst studious contemplation sucks the juice From wisards'[286] cheeks: who making curious search For nature's secrets, the first innating cause Laughs them to scorn, as man doth busy apes When they will zany men. Had Heaven been kind, Creating me an honest senseless dolt, A good poor fool, I should want sense to feel 50 The stings of anguish shoot through every vein; I should not know what 'twere to lose a father; I should be dead of sense to view defame Blur my bright love; I could not thus run mad, As one confounded in a maze of mischief, Stagger'd, stark, fell'd with bruising stroke of chance; I should not shoot mine eyes into the earth, Poring for mischief that might counterpoise Mischief, murder and---- _Enter_ LUCIO. How now, Lucio? _Lu._ My lord, the Duke, with the Venetian states,[287] 60 Approach the great hall to judge Mellida. _Ant._ Ask'd he for Julio yet? _Lu._ No motion[288] of him: dare you trust this habit? _Ant._ Alberto, see you straight rumour me dead. Leave me, good mother; leave me, Lucio; Forsake me, all. [_Exeunt omnes, saving_ ANTONIO. Now patience hoop my sides With steelèd ribs, lest I do burst my breast With struggling passions. Now disguise, stand bold: Poor scornèd habits oft choice souls enfold. [_The cornets sound a senet._ _Enter_ CASTILIO, FOROBOSCO, BALURDO, _and_ ALBERTO, _with pole-axes_, LUCIO _bare; followed by_ PIERO _and_ MARIA _talking together; two_ Senators, GALEATZO, MATZAGENTE, _and_ NUTRICHE. _Pier._ Entreat me not: there's not a beauty lives 70 Hath that imperial predominance O'er my affects[289] as your enchanting graces: Yet give me leave to be myself-- _Ant._ [_Aside._] A villain. _Pier._ Just-- _Ant._ [_Aside._] Most just. _Pier._ Most just and upright in our judgment seat. Were Mellida mine eye, with such a blemish Of most loath'd looseness, I would scratch it out. Produce the strumpet in her bridal robes, That she may blush t'appear so white in show, 80 And black in inward substance. Bring her in. [_Exeunt_ FOROBOSCO _and_ CASTILIO.