He’s laid his hand on sword and if not yet
He’s drawn it, one sole point of pause detains him
That this luck-minion among soldiers, Herod,
Stands good to Romans for the iron ring
That all things here with us together clamps.
But once you furnish him with opposite proof,
Rouse insurrection, stir the flaccid peace,
And he will draw’t.
Sameas.
I’ll furnish easy proof!