Ele. Ha!
Queen-M. Eleazar, madman! hear'st thou, Moor?
Ele. Well so; you turn my brains; you mar the face
Of my attempts i' the making; for this chaos,
This lump of projects, ere it be lick'd over,
'Tis like a bear's conception; stratagems,
Being but begot and not got out, are like
Charg'd cannons not discharg'd—they do no harm
Nor good. True policy, breeding in the brain,
Is like a bar of iron, whose ribs being broken
And soften'd in the fire, you then may forge it
Into a sword to kill, or to a helmet to defend,
Life. 'Tis therefore wit to try all fashions,
Ere you apparel villany. But—but
I ha' suited him; fit, fit, O, fit!
Queen-M. How, prythee, how?
Ele. Why, thus;—yet, no;—let's hence
My heart is nearest of my council, yet
I scarce dare trust my heart with't; what I do,
It shall look old the hour wherein 'tis born;
Wonders twice seen are garments overworn.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Enter Cardinal at one door; Philippo half-armed, and two Soldiers following him with the rest of the armour; the Cardinal, seeing him, turns back again.
Phil. Sirrah! you, cardinal! coward! run away!
So ho, ho! what, cardinal!
Car. I am not for your lure.