_Ren._ What's then the cause that I am here alone? Why are we not together? _Enter Elliott._ O, sir, welcome! You are an Englishman: when treason's hatching, One might have thought you'd not have been behindhand. In what whore's lap have you been lolling? Give but an Englishman his whore and ease, Beef, and a sea-coal fire, he's yours for ever. _Ell._ Frenchman, you are saucy. _Ren._ How! _Enter Bedamar, the Ambassador; Theodore, Bramveil, Durand, Brabe, Revillido, Mezzana, Ternon, and Retrosi, Conspirators._ _Bed._ At difference; fie! Is this a time for quarrels? Thieves and rogues Fall out and brawl: should men of your high calling, Men separated by the choice of Providence From the gross heap of mankind, and set here In this assembly as in one great jewel, T' adorn the bravest purpose it e'er smil'd on; Should you, like boys, wrangle for trifles? _Ren._ Boys! _Bed._ Renault, thy hand. _Ren._ I thought I'd given my heart Long since to every man that mingles here; But grieve to find it trusted with such tempers, That can't forgive my froward age its weakness. _Bed._ Elliott, thou once hadst virtue. I have seen Thy stubborn temper bend with godlike goodness, Not half thus courted. 'Tis thy nation's glory To hug the foe that offers brave alliance. Once more embrace, my friends--we'll all embrace. United thus, we are the mighty engine Must twist this rooted empire from its basis. Totters not it already? _Ell._ Would 'twere tumbling. _Bed._ Nay, it shall down; this night we seal its ruin. _Enter Pierre._ Oh, Pierre, thou art welcome. Come to my breast, for by its hopes thou look'st Lovelily dreadful, and the fate of Venice Seems on thy sword already. Oh, my Mars! The poets that first feign'd a god of war, Sure prophesied of thee. _Pier._ Friend, was not Brutus (I mean that Brutus, who in open senate Stabb'd the first Caesar that usurp'd the world), A gallant man? _Ren._ Yes, and Catiline too; Though story wrong his fame: for he conspir'd To prop the reeling glory of his country: His cause was good. _Bed._ And ours as much above it, As, Renault, thou'rt superior to Cethegus, Or Pierre to Cassius. _Pier._ Then to what we aim at. When do we start? or must we talk for ever? _Bed._ No, Pierre, the deed's near birth; fate seems to have set The business up, and given it to our care; I hope there's not a heart or hand amongst us, But is firm and ready. _All._ All. We'll die with Bedamar. _Bed._ O men Matchless! as will your glory be hereafter: The game is for a matchless prize, if won; If lost, disgraceful ruin. _Pier._ Ten thousand men are armed at your nod, Commanded all by leaders fit to guide A battle for the freedom of the world: This wretched state has starv'd them in its service; And, by your bounty quicken'd, they're resolved To serve your glory, and revenge their own: They've all their different quarters in this city, Watch for th' alarm, and grumble 'tis so tardy.