Lodo. Unhand me. [Exeunt Marcello and Flamineo.
That e'er I should be forc'd to right myself,
Upon a pander!
Ant. My lord.
Lodo. H' had been as good met with his fist a thunderbolt.
Gas. How this shows!
Lodo. Ud's death! 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 learn'd it of no fencer to shake thus:
Come, I 'll forget him, and go drink some wine.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV
SCENE I
Enter Francisco and Monticelso
Mont. Come, come, my lord, untie your folded thoughts,
And let them dangle loose, as a bride's hair.
Your sister's poisoned.
Fran. Far be it from my thoughts
To seek revenge.