Pan. Had I the pox, good colonel, I should stride
Far opener than I do; but pox o' the fashion!
Aler. Count Antonio.
[To them enter Antonio.
Ful. Though he appear fresh as a bloom
That newly kiss'd the sun, adorn'd with pearly
Drops, flung from the hand of the rose-finger'd morn,
Yet in his heart lives a whole host of valour.
Pan. He appears
A second Mars.
Aler. More powerful, since he holds wisdom
And valour captive.
Ful. Let us salute him.
[Whilst they salute Antonio, enters Count Machiavel.
Mach. Ha! how close they strike, as if they heard
A winged thunderbolt [that] threaten'd his death,
And each ambitious were to lose his life;
So it might purchase him a longer being:
Their breath engenders like two peaceful winds,
That join a friendly league, and fill the air
With silken music;
I may pass by, and scarce be spar'd a look,
Or any else but young Antonio.
Rise from thy scorching den, thou soul of mischief!
My blood boils hotter than the poison'd flesh
Of Hercules cloth'd in the Centaur's shirt:
Swell me, revenge, till I become a hill,
High as Olympus' cloud-dividing top;
That I might fall, and crush them into air.
I'll observe.
[Exit behind the hangings.