_Bal._ Ho, who's above there, ho? A murrain on all proverbs. They say hunger breaks through stone walls; but I am as gaunt as lean-ribb'd famine, yet I can burst through no stone walls. O now, Sir Jeffrey, show thy valour, break prison and be hang'd. Nor shall the darkest nook of hell contain the discontented Sir Balurdo's ghost. Well, I am out well; I have put off the prison to put on the rope. O poor shotten herring, what a pickle art thou in! O hunger, how thou domineer'st in my guts! O for a fat leg of ewe mutton in stewed broth, or drunken song to feed on! I could belch rarely, for I am all wind. O cold, cold, cold, cold, cold! O poor knight! O poor Sir Jeffrey, sing like an unicorn before thou dost dip thy horn in the water of death. O cold, O sing, O cold, O poor Sir Jeffrey, sing, sing! 16 [_A song._ _Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ Alberto _at several doors, their rapiers drawn, in their masking attire_. _Ant._ Vindicta! _Alb._ Mellida! _Ant._ Alberto! _Alb._ Antonio! _Ant._ Hath the Duke supp'd? _Alb._ Yes, and triumphant revels mount aloft. The Duke drinks deep to overflow his grief; The court is rack'd to pleasure; each man strains To feign a jocund eye. The Florentine---- _Ant._ Young Galeatzo! _Alb._ Even he is mighty on our part. The states of Venice---- _Enter_ PANDULPHO, _running, in masking attire_. _Pan._ Like high-swoll'n floods drive down the muddy dams Of pent allegiance. O, my lusty bloods, Heaven sits clapping of our enterprise. 30 I have been labouring general favour firm, And I do find the citizens grown sick With swallowing the bloody crudities Of black Piero's acts; they fain would cast And vomit him from off their government. Now is the plot of mischief ript wide ope; Letters are found 'twixt Strotzo and the Duke, So clear apparent, yet more firmly strong By suiting circumstance, that, as I walk'd, Muffled, to eavesdrop speech, I might observe 40 The graver statesmen whispering fearfully. Here one gives nods and hums what he would speak; The rumour's got 'mong troop of citizens, Making loud murmur, with confusèd din; One shakes his head and sighs, "O ill-used power!" Another frets, and sets his grinding teeth, Foaming with rage, and swears this must not be; Here one complots, and on a sudden starts, And cries, O monstrous, O deep villainy! All knit their nerves, and from beneath swoll'n brows 50 Appears a gloating eye of much mislike; Whilst swart Piero's lips reak steam of wine, Swallows lust-thoughts, devours all pleasing hopes, With strong imagination of--what not? O now Vindicta! that's the word we have, A royal vengeance, or a royal grave! _Ant._ Vindicta! _Bal._ [_From beneath the stage._] I am acold.