Lodo. What?
Flam. And 't shall stick by you.
Lodo. I long for it.
Flam. This laughter scurvily becomes your face:
If you will not be melancholy, be angry. [Strikes him.
See, now I laugh too.
Marc. You are to blame: I 'll force you hence.
Lodo. Unhand me. [Exeunt Marcello and Flamineo.
That e'er I should be forc'd to right myself,
Upon a pander!
Ant. My lord.
Lodo. H' had been as good met with his fist a thunderbolt.
Gas. How this shows!
Lodo. Ud's death! how did my sword miss him?
These rogues that are most weary of their lives
Still 'scape the greatest dangers.
A pox upon him; all his reputation,
Nay, all the goodness of his family,
Is not worth half this earthquake:
I learn'd it of no fencer to shake thus:
Come, I 'll forget him, and go drink some wine.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV
SCENE I
Enter Francisco and Monticelso
Mont. Come, come, my lord, untie your folded thoughts,
And let them dangle loose, as a bride's hair.
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