Mar. I fear this is no country for you, sir,
If noises in the street keep you indoors.
LIVIO.
Take warning, count; Sicily’s fairest rose
Blooms on an angry plant.
Mar.But we can boast
Of warriors that for fragrance shame the rose.
(To Liv.) Is’t musk to-day?
Liv. (to Fer.). I told you.
Enter Messenger R., crosses to Hugo L.