Mast. 'Tis not to dye Sir,
But to dye unreveng'd, that staggers me:
For were your ends serv'd, and our Countrey free,
We would fall willing sacrifices.
Sess. To rise up,
Most glorious Martyrs.
Boats. But the reason why
We wear these shapes?
Sess. Only to get access:
Like honest men, we never shall approach him,
Such are his fears, but thus attir'd like Switzers,
And fashioning our language to our habits;
Bold, bloody, desperate, we may be admitted
Among his guard. But if this fail I'll try
A thousand others, out-do Proteus
In various shapes, but I will reach his heart,
And seal my anger on't.
Enter Ronvere and the Guard.
Mast. The Lord Ronvere.
Boats. Shall we begin with him?
Sess. He is not ripe yet,
Nor fit to fall: as you see me begin,
With all care Imitate.
Gun. We are instructed.
Boats. Would we were at it once.