_Lod._ Unhand me. [_Exeunt_ MARCELLO _and_ FLAMINEO. That e'er I should be forced to right myself Upon a pander! _Anto._ My lord,-- _Lod._ H'ad been as good met with his fist a thunderbolt. _Gas._ How this shows! _Lod._ Ud's death,[62] how did my sword miss him? These rogues that are most weary of their lives Still scape the greatest dangers. A pox upon him! all his reputation, Nay, all the goodness of his family, Is not worth half this earthquake: I learned it of no fencer to shake thus: Come, I'll forget him, and go drink some wine. [_Exeunt._ SCENE II.--_An Apartment in the Palace of_ FRANCISCO. _Enter_ FRANCISCO DE MEDICIS _and_ MONTICELSO. _Mont._ Come, come, my lord, untie your folded thoughts, And let them dangle loose as a bride's hair.[63] Your sister's poisoned. _Fran. de Med._ Far be it from my thoughts To seek revenge. _Mont._ What, are you turned all marble? _Fran. de Med._ Shall I defy him, and impose a war Most burdensome on my poor subjects' necks, Which at my will I have not power to end? You know, for all the murders, rapes, and thefts, Committed in the horrid lust of war, He that unjustly caused it first proceed Shall find it in his grave and in his seed. _Mont._ That's not the course I'd wish you; pray, observe me. We see that undermining more prevails Than doth the cannon. Bear your wrongs concealed, And, patient as the tortoise, let this camel Stalk, o'er your back unbruised: sleep with the lion, And let this brood of secure foolish mice Play with your nostrils, till the time be ripe For the bloody audit and the fatal gripe: Aim like a cunning fowler, close one eye, That you the better may your game espy. _Fran. de Med._ Free me, my innocence, from treacherous acts! I know there's thunder yonder; and I'll stand Like a safe valley, which low bends the knee To some aspiring mountain; since I know Treason, like spiders weaving nets for flies, By her foul work is found, and in it dies. To pass away these thoughts, my honoured lord, It is reported you possess a book, Wherein you have quoted,[64] by intelligence, The names of all notorious offenders Lurking about the city. _Mont._ Sir, I do; And some there are which call it my black book: Well may the title hold; for though it teach not The art of conjuring, yet in it lurk The names of many devils. _Fran. de Med._ Pray, let's see it. _Mont._ I'll fetch it to your lordship. [_Exit._ _Fran. de Med._ Monticelso, I will not trust thee; but in all my plots I'll rest as jealous as a town besieged. Thou canst not reach what I intend to act: Your flax soon kindles, soon is out again; But gold slow heats, and long will hot remain. _Re-enter_ MONTICELSO, _presents_ FRANCISCO DE MEDICIS _with a book._ _Mont._ 'Tis here, my lord. _Fran. de Med._ First, your intelligencers, pray, let's see.