Dec. My lord, this war
Is warranted by casuists for lawful;
But they (you'll say) flatter the present state,
And make divinity serve human ends.
But in itself it's just: a war your judgment
Gave approbation to, and urg'd me first
To undertake. Therefore make good your own,
And throw off this unuseful habit.
Oss. Never.
Dec. What said my friend?
Oss. By all things sacred, never.
In this I will grow old, and with the weight
Of years bend to the earth. In this I'll breathe
A happier air than you in all your soft
And varied silks.
Dec. Some coward devil, sure,
Possesseth him. [Aside.
Oss. My lord, I am instructed
T' a patience far above your injuries;
Nor shall your scorn or anger triumph o'er
My resolution. I'm fix'd here, unmov'd
As is the centre.
Dec. I was much to blame:
This may be a brave virtue. Pray, my lord,
Give me your reasons why you tread this path,
So little beaten by the feet of courtiers?
I would not have the world mistake your aim,
And construe it to fear or melancholy.
Oss. That cannot shake me: he who by the card
O' th' world's opinion steers his course, shall harbour
In no safe port. But to your ear, my lord,
I give this free account. Seven winters pass'd,
When I set sail from Sicily, a storm
O'ertook the ship, so powerful, that the pilot
Gave up the stern to the ordering of the waves,
His art and hand grown useless; those kind stars
The sailors used t' invoke were lost i' th' tempest,
And nothing but a night, not to be seen,
Was seen by us. When every one began
T' advance himself toward death, as men condemn'd
To th' axe, when hope of pardon is shut out;
I, spite o' th' envious cloud, look'd up to heaven.
And darted my faith thither, vowing to
Forsake the flatter'd pomp and business of
The faithless world, if I with safety might
Attain the land.
Dec. Was not I there, my lord?
Oss. You were.