Celso. I shall observe ye.
Men. And, Celso, prithee, let it be thy care to-night
To have some pretty show, to solemnise
Our high instalment; some music, maskery. 250
We’ll give fair entertain unto Maria,
The duchess to the banish’d Altofront:
Thou shalt conduct her from the citadel
Unto the palace. Think on some maskery.
Celso. Of what shape, sweet lord?
Men. What[552] shape! why, any quick-done fiction;
As some brave spirits of the Genoan dukes,
To come out of Elysium, forsooth,
Led in by Mercury, to gratulate
Our happy fortune; some such anything, 260
Some far-fet[553] trick good for ladies, some stale toy
Or other, no matter, so’t be of our devising.
Do thou prepare’t; ’tis but for fashion[554] sake;
Fear not, it shall be grac’d, man, it shall take.
Celso. All service.
Men. All thanks; our hand shall not be close to thee: farewell.
[Aside.] Now is my treachery secure, nor can we fall:
Mischief that prospers, men do virtue call.
I’ll trust no man: he that by tricks gets wreaths
Keeps them with steel; no man securely breathes 270
Out of deservèd[555] ranks; the crowd will mutter, “fool:”
Who cannot bear with spite, he cannot rule.
The chiefest secret for a man of state
Is, to live senseless of a strengthless hate.
[Exit.
Mal. [starting up] Death of the damned thief! I’ll make one i’ the mask; thou shalt ha’ some brave spirits of the antique dukes.
Cel. My lord, what strange delusion?