_Card._ 'Tis thus. Antonio lurks here in Milan: Inquire him out, and kill him. While he lives, Our sister cannot marry; and I have thought Of an excellent match for her. Do this, and style me Thy advancement. _Bos._ But by what means shall I find him out? _Card._ There is a gentleman called Delio Here in the camp, that hath been long approved His loyal friend. Set eye upon that fellow; Follow him to mass; may be Antonio, Although he do account religion But a school-name, for fashion of the world May accompany him; or else go inquire out Delio's confessor, and see if you can bribe Him to reveal it. There are a thousand ways A man might find to trace him; as to know What fellows haunt the Jews for taking up Great sums of money, for sure he's in want; Or else to go to the picture-makers, and learn Who bought her picture lately: some of these Happily may take. _Bos._ Well, I'll not freeze i' the business: I would see that wretched thing, Antonio, Above all sights i' the world. _Card._ Do, and be happy. [_Exit_. _Bos._ This fellow doth breed basilisks in's eyes, He's nothing else but murder; yet he seems Not to have notice of the duchess' death. 'Tis his cunning: I must follow his example; There cannot be a surer way to trace Than that of an old fox. _Re-enter_ JULIA. _Julia._ So, sir, you are well met. _Bos._ How now! _Julia._ Nay, the doors are fast enough: Now, sir, I will make you confess your treachery. _Bos._ Treachery! _Julia._ Yes, confess to me Which of my women 'twas you hired to put Love-powder into my drink? _Bos._ Love-powder! _Julia._ Yes, when I was at Malfi. Why should I fall in love with such a face else? I have already suffered for thee so much pain, The only remedy to do me good Is to kill my longing. _Bos._ Sure, your pistol holds Nothing but perfumes or kissing-comfits.[141] Excellent lady! You have a pretty way on't to discover Your longing. Come, come, I'll disarm you, And arm you thus: yet this is wondrous strange. _Julia._ Compare thy form and my eyes together, You'll find my love no such great miracle. Now you'll say I am wanton: this nice modesty in ladies Is but a troublesome familiar That haunts them. _Bos._ Know you me, I am a blunt soldier. _Julia._ The better: Sure, there wants fire where there are no lively sparks Of roughness. _Bos._ And I want compliment. _Julia._ Why, ignorance In courtship cannot make you do amiss, If you have a heart to do well. _Bos._ You are very fair. _Julia._ Nay, if you lay beauty to my charge, I must plead unguilty. _Bos._ Your bright eyes Carry a quiver of darts in them sharper Than sunbeams. _Julia._ You will mar me with commendation, Put yourself to the charge of courting me, Whereas now I woo you.