Tyr. True, thou then hast room enough to run away!
Take thou the axe from him.
1st Sol. I beseech your grace,
'Twill come to a worse hand. You'll find us all
Of one mind for the church, I can assure you, sir.
Tyr. Nor thou?
3d Sol. I love not to disquiet ghosts
Of any people living.
Tyr. O slaves of one opinion: give me't from thee,
Thou man made out of fear.
2d Sol. By my faith, I'm glad I'm rid on't—
I that was ne'er before in [a] cathedral,
And have the battering of a lady's tomb,
Lies hard upon my conscience at first coming;
I should get much by that; it shall be a warning to me,
I'll ne'er come here again.
Tyr. No? wilt not yield? [Strikes at the tomb.
Art thou so loth to part from her?
1st Sol. What means he? Has he no feeling with him? By this light, if I be not afraid to stay any longer! very fear will go nigh to turn me of some religion or other, and so make me forfeit my lieutenantship.
Tyr. O, have we got the mastery? Help, you vassals!
Freeze you in idleness, and can see us sweat?
2d Sol. We sweat with fear, as much as work can make us.