 | The Law of Lombardy |  |
SCENE III.
LUCIO, an OFFICER.OFFICER.
See where they pass; what bodes that conference?
LUCIO.
Danger, my life on't. That smooth knave Ascanio
Is the Duke's crucible, his breast receives
The mass of his crude projects, and his brain
A subtle fire refines the drossy ore,
To bear the ready stamp for present mischief.
OFFICER.
The Duke of late grows past his custom courteous,
Joins hands with us, and calls us by our names,
Gives praise, and largess to the soldiery,
Whom he was wont to style, State caterpillars,
Burthens of peace, and but endur'd in war,
As necessary evils.
LUCIO.
It denotes
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I know him proud, subtle, and pitiless;
Nor will his nature change these elements,
However for a season he put on
A smoother guise, and fashion suitable
To the end he aims at.
OFFICER.
Best conceal these thoughts,
For one day he may rule us.
LUCIO.
Ay, that may,
If I mistake not, he will snatch from chance,
And make a certainty. But see the king.
The providence of heaven be ever round him!
| The Law of Lombardy | |