1 Gent. Sir, I fear not.
Du. I would not crack my vow, start from my honour,
Because I may find danger; wound my soul,
To keep my body safe.
1 Gent. I speak not Sir,
Out of a baseness to you.
Du. No, nor do not
Out of a baseness leave me: what is danger,
More than the weakness of our apprehensions?
A poor cold part o'th' bloud? who takes it hold of?
Cowards, and wicked livers: valiant minds
Were made the Masters of it: and as hearty Sea-men
In desperate storms, stem with a little Rudder
The tumbling ruines of the Ocean:
So with their cause and swords do they do dangers.
Say we were sure to dye all in this venture,
As I am confident against it: is there any
Amongst us of so fat a sense, so pamper'd,
Would chuse luxuriously to lye a bed,
And purge away his spirit, send his soul out
In Sugar-sops, and Syrups? Give me dying
As dying ought to be, upon mine enemy,
Parting with man-kind, by a man that's manly:
Let 'em be all the world, and bring along
Cain's envy with 'em, I will on.
2 Gent. You may Sir,
But with what safety?
1 Gent. Since 'tis come to dying,
You shall perceive Sir, here be those amongst us
Can dye as decently as other men,
And with as little ceremony: on brave Sir.
Duke. That's spoken heartily.
1 Gent. And he that flinches,
May he dye lowzie in a ditch.
Duke. No more dying,
There's no such danger in it:
What's a clock?
3 Gent. Somewhat above your hour.