wdly curb the critic tongues
That wag within the jaws of foes most keen,
Thus hiding well, from all the thoughtless world.
The deep intent which labors in our breast.
And which in time shall like the bird encased
By brittle shell, break forth and fly aloft,
Singing to startled worlds sweet freedom's song.
But woe is me! My mem'ry playeth false,
For he of ponderous girth, in Island home
Seeketh to grow more fat on public swill.
And he presumeth, justly too, on what
His silver tongue did work to boost me on.
But still, lean men are best for action keen,
For too much fatness burdeneth the mind
And speaks in trumpet tones of strong desire
For pleasures, and mayhap for cards and wine.
And so 'twere best to know this Falstaff not
For pow'r politic ne'er can from his hand
Against me work dire mischief, for his tongue
Is locked securely by our party key.
But I must call the lightning to mine aid,
And order him who now bemoans his fate,
To scan the bailiwick for pots and pans,
That Francos no discomfort may incur.
For he so long in Fate's kind lap hath lain,
That he must ill be fitted to his task
Unless luxurious easements smooth his way
And jars discomforting wring not his soul.

_Exit Caesar._

_Scene 2. Ship on the Ocean._

_Quezox and Francos walking the deck._

_Quezox:_ Most worthy Francos, so my mind hath cast
A heavy load aside, and eager now, with hope,
I long to meet the foe in combat fierce
And pierce the varied joints his armor boasts.
_Francos:_ Sweet Quezox, hold! Methinks I read thy mind,
Revenge is sweeter than the honeycomb.
But let it not take mastery so strong
That Reason totters on her wabbly throne.
I fear me there are lions in the way,
And we must not in open battle wage;
But let our minds deep strategy conceive
And thus achieve what otherwise might fail.
_Quezox:_ Most trenchant Francos, how thy words do prick;
I fear unjust suspicion rears its head,
For it is not the nature of our race
To open