Gio. Will't please your highness?
King. What, Sebastiano, to be still a king
Of universal Spain without a rival?
Yes, it does please me, and you ministers
Of my still growing greatness shall ere long
Find I am pleas'd with you, that boldly durst
Pluck from the fixed arm of sleeping justice.
Her long-sheath'd sword, and whet the rusty blade
Upon the bones of Mach'vel, and his
Confederate rebels.
Gio. That, my lord, is yet
To do: let him mount higher, that
His fall may be too deep for resurrection;[42]
They're gone to the great hall, whither will't please
Your grace disguis'd to go? your person by
Our care shall be secure. Their French troops I
Have sent as useless into France, by virtue
Of Raymond's ring, which he gave me to bid
The general by that token to march
To this city.
King. What say the colonels?
Will they assist me?
Ant. Doubt not, my lord.
King. Come, then, let's go guarded, with such as you
'Twere sin to fear, were all the world untrue.
[Exeunt.
Enter Tailors.
O. Tai. Now for the credit of tailors.
3d Tai. Nay, master, and we do not act, as they say, with any players in the globe of the world, let us be baited like a bull for a company of strutting coxcombs: nay, we can act, I can tell you.