Amb. Is't so? 'tis very good!
And do you think to be duke then, kind brother?
I'll see fair play; drop one, and there lies t'other.
[Aside. Exit.
Enter Vendice and Hippolito, with Piero and other Lords.
Ven. My lords, be all of music, strike old griefs into other countries
That flow in too much milk, and have faint livers,
Not daring to stab home their discontents.
Let our hid flames break out as fire, as lightning,
To blast this villainous dukedom, vex'd with sin;
Wind up your souls to their full height again.
Piero. How?
1st Lord. Which way?
3d Lord. Any way: our wrongs are such,
We cannot justly be reveng'd too much.
Ven. You shall have all enough. Revels are toward,
And those few nobles that have long suppress'd you,
Are busied to the furnishing of a masque,
And do affect to make a pleasant tale on't;
The masquing suits are fashioning: now comes in
That which must glad us all. We too take pattern
Of all those suits, the colour, trimming, fashion,
E'en to an undistinguish'd hair almost:
Then entering first, observing the true form,
Within a strain or two we shall find leisure
To steal our swords out handsomely;
And when they think their pleasure sweet and good,
In midst of all their joys they shall sigh blood.
Piero. Weightily, effectually!
Third. Before the t'other masquers come——