Bes. Yes, marry, shall ye;
And then let all the world come, we are valiant
To ourselves, and there’s an end.

1 Sw. Nay, then, we must be valiant. Oh, my ribs!

2 Sw. Oh, my small guts! A plague upon these sharp-toed shoes; they are murderers.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.—A Room in the Palace.

Enter ARBACES with his sword drawn.

Arb. It is resolved: I bore it whilst I could;
I can no more. Hell, open all thy gates,
And I will thorough them: If they be shut,
I’ll batter ’em, but I will find the place
Where the most damn’d have dwelling! Ere I end,
Amongst them all they shall not have a sin,
But I may call it mine; I must begin
With murder of my friend, and so go on
To that incestuous ravishing, and end
My life and sins with a forbidden blow
Upon myself!

Enter MARDONIUS.

Mar. What tragedy is near?
That hand was never wont to draw a sword,
But it cried “dead” to something.

Arb. Mardonius,
Have you bid Gobrias come?

Mar. How do you, sir?

Arb. Well. Is he coming?

Mar. Why, sir, are you thus?
Why do your hands proclaim a lawless war
Against yourself?

Arb. Thou answer’st me one question with another:
Is Gobrias coming?

Mar. Sir, he is.

Arb. ’Tis well:
I can forbear your questions then. Begone!

Mar. Sir, I have mark’d—

Arb. Mark less! it troubles you and me.

Mar. You are more variable than you were.

Arb. It may be so.

Mar. To-day no hermit could be humbler
Than you were to us all.

Arb. And what of this?

Mar. And now you take new rage into your eyes,
As you would look us all out of the land.

Arb. I do confess it; will that satisfy?
I pr’ythee, get thee gone.

Mar. Sir, I will speak.

Arb. Will ye?

Mar. It is my duty.
I fear you’ll kill yourself: I am a subject,
And you shall do me wrong in’t; ’tis my cause,
And I may speak.