Jud. A Bean? a Princely diet, a full Banquet,
To what we compass.
1 Sold. Fight like Hogs for Acorns?
2 Sold. Venture our lives for Pig-nuts?
Pet. What ail these Rascals?
3 Sold. If this hold, we are starv'd.
Jud. For my part, friends,
Which is but twenty Beans a day, a hard world
For Officers, and men of action;
And those so clipt by master Mouse, and rotten:
For understand 'em French Beans, where the fruits
Are ripen'd like the people in old tubs.
For mine own part, I say, I am starv'd already.
Not worth another Bean, consum'd to nothing,
Nothing but flesh and bones left, miserable:
Now if this mustie provender can prick me
To honourable matters of atchievment, Gentlemen,
Why there's the point.
4 Sold. I'll fight no more.
Petill. You'll hang then,
A sovereign help for hunger. Ye eating Rascals,
Whose gods are Beef and Brewis, whose brave angers
Do execution upon these, and Chibbals:
Ye dogs heads i'th' porridge-pot; you fight no more?
Does Rome depend upon your resolution
For eating mouldy Pie-crust?
3 Sold. Would we had it.
Jud. I may do service, Captain.
Petill. In a fish-market.
You, Corporal Curry-Comb, what will your fighting
Profit the Common-wealth? do you hope to triumph,
Or dare your vamping valour, goodman Cobler,
Clap a new [soal] to th' Kingdom? s'death, ye dog-whelps
You, fight, or not fight.
Jud. Captain.
Petill. Out, ye flesh-flies,
Nothing but noise and nastiness.
Jud. Give us meat,
Whereby we may do.
Petill. Whereby hangs your valour?
Jud. Good bits afford good blows.
Petill. A good position:
How long is't since thou eat'st last, wipe thy mouth,
And then tell truth.
Jud. I have not eat to th' purpose—
Petill. To th' purpose? what's that? half a Cow and Garlick?
Ye Rogues, my company eat Turf, and talk not;
Timber they can digest, and fight upon't;
Old matts, and mud with spoons, rare meats. Your shooes slaves?
Dare ye cry out for hunger, and those extant?
Suck your Sword-hilts, ye slaves, if ye be valiant,
Honor will make 'em march-pain: to the purpose?
A grievous penance. Dost thou see that Gentleman,
That melancholly Monsieur?
Jun. Pray ye, Petillius.
Pet. He has not eat these three weeks.
2 Sold. 'Has drunk the more then.
3 Sold. And that's all one.
Petill. Nor drunk nor slept these two months.
Jud. Captain, we do beseech yo[u] as poor Soldiers,
Men that have seen good days, whose mortal stomachs
May sometime feel afflictions.
Jun. This, Petillius,
Is not so nobly done.
Petill. 'Tis common profit;
Urge him to th' point, he'll find you out a food
That needs no teeth nor stomach; a strange furmity
Will feed ye up as fat as hens i'th' foreheads,
And make ye fight like Fichocks, to him.
Jud. Captain.
Jun. Do you long to have your throats cut?
Petill. See what metal
It makes in him: two meals more of this melancholly,
And there lies Caratach.
Jud. We do beseech ye.
2 Sold. Humbly beseech your valour.
Jun. Am I only
Become your sport Petillius?
Jud. But to render
In way of general good, in preservation.
Jun. Out of my thoughts, ye slaves.
4 Sold. Or rather pity.
3 Sold. Your warlike remedy against the maw-worms.
Jud. Or notable receipt to live by nothing.
Petill. Out with your Table-books.
Jun. Is this true friendship?
And must my killing-griefs make others May-games?
Stand from my swords point, slaves, your poor starv'd spirits
Can make me no oblations; else, O love,
Thou proudly blind destruction, I would send thee
Whole Hecatom[b]s of hearts, to bleed my sorrows.
Jud. Alas, he lives by love, Sir. [Exit Junius.
Pet. So he does, Sir,
And cannot you do so too? All my Company
Are now in love, ne'r think of meat, nor talk
Of what Provant is: Aymees, and Hearty hey-hoes,
Are Sallets fit for Soldiers. Live by meat;
By larding up your bodies? 'tis lewd, and lazie,
And shews ye meerly mortal, dull, and drives ye
To fight like Camels, with baskets at your noses.
Get ye in love; ye can whore well enough,
That all the world knows: fast ye into Famine,
Yet ye can crawl like Crabs to wenches, handsomely,
Fall but in love now, as ye see example,
And follow it but with all your thoughts, probatum,
There's so much charge sav'd, and your hunger's ended.
Away, I hear the General: get ye in love all, [Drum afar off.
Up to the ears in love, that I may hear
No more of these rude murmurings; and discreetly
Carry your stomachs, or I prophesie
A pickel'd Rope will choak ye. Jog, and talk not. [Exeunt.
Enter Swetonius, Demetrius, Decius, Drum, Colours.
Swet. Demetrius, is the messenger dispatch'd
To Penyus, to command him to bring up
The Volans Regiment?
Dem. He's there by this time.
Swet. And are the Horse well view'd we brought from Mona[?]
Dec. The Troops are full, and lusty.
Swet. Good Petillius,
Look to those eating Rogues, that bawl for victuals,
And stop their throats a day or two: provision
Waits but the wind to reach us.
Pet. Sir, already
I have been tampring with their stomachs, which I find
As deaf as Adders to delays: your clemency
Hath made their murmurs, mutinies, nay, rebellions:
Now, and they want but Mustard, they'r in uproars
No oil but Candy, Lusitanian Figs
And Wine from Lesbos now can satisfie 'em:
The British waters are grown dull and muddy,
The fruit disgustful: Orontes must be sought for,
And Apples from the happy Isles: the truth is,
They are more curious now in having nothing,
Than if the sea and land turn'd up their treasures:
This lost the Colonies, and gave Bonduca
(With shame we must record it) time and strength
To look into our Fortunes; great discretion
To follow offered Victory; and last, full pride
To brave us to our teeth, and scorn our ruines.
Swet. Nay, chide not, good Petillius, I confess
My will to conquer Mona, and long stay
To execute that Will, let in these losses:
All shall be right again, and as a Pine
Rent from Oeta by a sweeping tempest,
Joynted again, and made a Mast, defies
Those angry winds that split him: so will I,
Piec'd to my never-fai[l]ing strength and fortune,
Steer thorow these swelling dangers; plow their prides up,
And bear like thunder through their loudest tempests:
They keep the field still.
Dem. Confident and full.
Pet. In such a number, one would swear they grew,
The hills are wooded with their partisans,
And all the valleys overgrown with darts,
As moors are with rank rushes: no ground left us
To charge upon, no room to strike: say fortune
And our endeavours bring us in to 'em,
They are so infinite, so ever-springing.
We shall be kill'd with killing; of desperate Women,
That neither fear, or shame e'r found, the devil
Has rank'd amongst 'em multitudes: say the men fail,
They'll poison us with their petticoats: say they fail,
They have priests enough to pray us into nothing.
Sw[e]t. These are imaginations, dreams of nothing,
The man that doubts or fears.
Dec. I am free of both.
Dem. The self-same I.
Petill. And I as free as any;
As careless of my flesh, of that we call life,
So I may lose it nobly; as indifferent
As if it were my diet. Yet, noble General,
It was a wisdom learn'd from you; I learn'd it,
And worthy of a Soldiers care, most worthy,
To weigh with most deliberate circumstance
The ends of accidents, above their offers;
How to go on and get, to save a Roman,
Whose one life is more worth in way of doing,
Than millions of these painted wasps; how viewing
To find advantage out; how; how, found, to follow it
With counsel and discretion, lest meer fortune
Should claim the victory.
Sw[e]t. 'Tis true, Petillius,
And worthily remembred: the rule's certain,
Their uses no less excellent: but where time
Cuts off occasio[n]s, danger, time and all
Tend to a present peril, 'tis required
Our Swords and Manhoods be best counsellors,
Our expeditions, presidents. To win, is nothing,
Where reason, time and counsel are our Camp-masters:
But there to bear the field, then to be conquerors,
Where pale destruction takes us, takes us beaten,
I[n] wants, and mutinies, our selves but handfuls,
And to our selves, our own fears, needs a new way,
A sudden and a desperate execution:
Here, how to save, is loss; to be wise, dangerous;
Only a present well-united strength,
And minds made up for all attempts, dispatch it:
Disputing and delay here, cools the courage;
Necessity gives time for doubts; things infinite,
According to the spirit they are preach'd to,
Rewards like them; and names for after-ages,
Must steel the Soldier; his own shame help to arm him;
And having forc'd his spirit, e'r he cools,
Fling him upon his enemies; sudden and swift,
Like Tigers amongst Foxes, we must fight for't:
Fury must be our Fortune; shame we have lost,
Spurs ever in our sides to prick us forward:
There is no other wisdom nor discretion
Due to this day of ruine, but destruction;
The Soldiers order first, and then his anger.
Dem. No doubt they dare redeem all.
Swet. Then no doubt
The day must needs be ours. That the proud Woman
Is infinite in number, better likes me,
Than if we dealt with squadrons: half her Army
Shall choak themselves, their own swords dig their graves.
I'll tell ye all my fears, one single valour,
The virtues of the valiant Caratach
More doubts me than all Britain: he's a Soldier
So forg'd out, and so temper'd for great fortunes,
So much man thrust into him, so old in dangers,
So fortunate in all attempts, that his mere name
Fights in a thousand men, himself in millions,
To make him Roman. But no more. Petillius,
How stands your charge?
Petill. Ready for all employments,
To be commanded too, Sir.
Swet. 'Tis well govern'd;
To morrow we'll draw out, and view the Cohorts:
I' th' mean time, all apply their offices.
Where's Junius?
Petill. In's Cabin,
Sick o'th' mumps, Sir.
Swet. How?
Petill. In love, indeed in love, most lamentably loving,
To the tune of Queen Dido.
Dec. Alas poor Gentleman.
Swet. 'Twill make him fight the nobler. With what Lady?
I'll be a spokesman for him.
Petill. You'll scant speed, Sir.
Swet. Who is't?
Petill. The devil's dam, Bonduca's daughter,
Her youngest, crackt i'th' ring.
Swet. I am sorry for him:
But sure his own discretion will reclaim him,
He must deserve our anger else. Good Captains,
Apply your selves in all the pleasing forms
Ye can, unto the Soldiers; fire their spirits,
And set 'em fit to run this action;
Mine own provision shall be shar'd amongst 'em,
Till more come in: tell 'em, if now they conquer,
The fat of all the kingdom lies before 'em.
Their shames forgot, their honors infinite,
And want for ever banisht. Two days hence,
Our fortunes, and our swords, and gods be for us. [Exeunt.
Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Penyus, Regulus, Macer, Drusius.
Pen. I must come?
Ma. So the General commands, Sir.
Pen. I must bring up my Regiment?
Ma. Believe, Sir,
I bring no lye.
Pen. But did he say, I must come?
Ma. So delivered.
Pen. How long is't, Regulus, since I commanded
In Britain here?
Reg. About five years, great Penyus.
Pen. The General some five months. Are all my actions
So poor, and lost, my services so barren,
That I'm remembred in no nobler language
But Must come up?
Ma. I do beseech ye, Sir,
Weigh but the times estate.
Pen. Yes, good Lieutenant,
I do, and his that sways it. Must come up;
Am I turn'd bare Centurion? Must, and shall,
Fit Embasses to court my honor?
Ma. Sir—
Pen. Set me to lead a handful of my men
Against an hundred thousand barbarous slaves
That have marcht name by name with Romes best doers?
Serve 'em up some other meat; I'll bring no food
To stop the jaws of all those hungry wolfs.
My Regiment's mine own. I must, my language.
Enter Curius.
Cur. Penyus, where lies the Host?
Pen. Where fate may find 'em.
Pen. The Battel's lost.
Cur. So soon?
Pen. No; but 'tis lost, because it must be won:
The Britains must be Victors. Who e'r saw
A troop of bloody vultures hovering
About a few corrupted carcasses,
Let him behold the silly Roman host,
Girded with millions of fierce B[r]itains Swains,
With deaths as many as they have had hopes;
And then go thither, he that loves his shame;
I scorn my life, yet dare not lose my name.
Cur. Do not you hold it a most famous end,
When both our names and lives are sacrific'd
For Romes increase?
Pen. Yes, Curius; but mark this too;
What glory is there, or what lasting Fame
Can be to Rome or us? what full example,
When one is smother'd with a multitude,
And crouded in amongst a nameless press?
Honor got out of Flint, and on their heads
Whose virtues, like the Sun, exhal'd all valours,
Must not be lost in mists and fogs of people,
Noteless, and out of name, but rude and naked:
Nor can Rome task us with impossibilities,
Or bid us fight against a flood: we serve her,
That she may proudly say she has good soldiers,
Not slaves to choak all hazards. Who but fools,
That make no difference betwixt certain dying,
And dying well, would fling their Fames and Fortunes
Into this Britain-gulf, this quick-sand ruine,
That sinking, swallows us, What noble hand
Can find a subject fit for blood there? or what sword
Room for his execution? What air to cool us,
But poison'd with their blasting breaths and curses,
Where we lie buried quick above the ground,
And are with labouring sweat, and breathless pain,
Kill'd like to slaves, and cannot kill again?
Dru. Penyus, mark antient Wars, and know that then
Captains weigh'd an hundred thousand men.
Pen. Drusius, mark antient wisdom, and you'll find then,
He gave the overthrow that sav'd his men,
I must not go.
Reg. The soldiers are desirous,
Their Eagles all drawn out, Sir.
Pen. Who drew up, Regulus?
Ha? speak: did you whose bold Will durst attempt this?
Drawn out? why, who commands, Sir? on whose warrant
Durst they advance?
Reg. I keep mine own obedience.
Dru. 'Tis like the general cause, their love of honor,
Relieving of their wants.
Pen. Without my knowledge?
Am I no more? my place but at their pleasures?
Come, who did this?
Dru. By —— Sir, I am ignorant.
[Drum softly within; then enter
[Soldiers with Drum and Colours.
Pen. What am I grown a shadow? Harke, they march.
I will know, and will be my self. Stand, disobedience;
He that advances one foot higher, dies for't.
Run thorow the Regiment upon your duties,
And charge 'em on command: beat back again,
By —— I'll ti'th'em all else.
Reg. We'll do our best. [Exeunt Drusius and Regulus.
Pen. Back; cease your bawling Drums there,
I'll beat the Tubs about your brains else. Back:
Do I speak with less fear than Thunder to ye?
Must I stand to besee[c]h ye? home, home: ha?
Do ye stare upon me? Are those minds I moulded,
Those honest valiant tempers I was proud
To be a fellow to, those great discretions
Made your names fear'd and honor'd, turn'd to wild-fires?
O gods, to disobedience? Command, farewel:
And be ye witness with me, all things sacred,
I have no share in these mens shames. March, Soldiers,
And seek your own sad ruines; your old Penyus
Dares not behold your murders.
Sold. Captain.
3 Sold. Dear honour'd Captain.
Pen. Too too dear lov'd Soldiers,
Which made ye weary of me: and Heaven yet knows,
Though in your mutinies, I dare not hate you;
Take your own Wills; 'tis fit your long experience
Should now know how to rule your selves: I wrong ye,
In wishing ye to save your lives and credits,
To keep your necks whole from the Ax hangs o'r ye:
Alas, I much dishonour'd ye: go, seek the Britains,
And say ye come to glut their sacrifices;
But do not say I sent ye. What ye have been,
How excellent in all parts, good, and govern'd,
Is only left of my Command, for story;
What now ye are, for pitie. Fare ye well.
Enter Drusius and Regulus.
Dru. Oh turn again, great Penyus; see the Soldier
In all points apt for duty.
Reg. See his sorrow
For his disobedience, which he says was haste,
And haste (he thought) to please you with. See Captain,
The toughness of his courage turn'd to water;
See how his manly heart melts.
Pen. Go, beat homeward,
There learn to eat your little with obedience,
And henceforth strive to do as I direct ye. [Exeunt Soldiers.
Ma. My answer, Sir.
Pen. Tell the Great General
My Companies are no fagots to fill breaches;
My self no man that must, or shall, can carry:
Bid him be wise; and where he is, he's safe then;
And when he finds out possibilities,
He may command me. Commend me to the Captains.
Ma. All this I shall deliver.
Pen. Farewel, Macer. [Exit Penyus.
Cur. Pray gods this breed no mischief.
Reg. It must needs,
If stout Suetonius win; for then his anger,
Besides the Soldiers loss of due, and honor,
Will break together on him.
Dru. He's a brave fellow;
And but a little hide his haughtiness,
(Which is but sometimes neither, on some causes)
He shews the worthiest Roman this day living.
You may, good Curius, to the General
Make all things seem the best.
Cur. I shall endeavour:
Pray for our fortunes, Gentlemen, If we fall,
This one farewel serves for a Funeral.
The gods make sharp our swords, and steel our hearts;
We dare, alas, but cannot fight our parts. [Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Junius, Petillius and a Herald observing Junius.
Petill. Let him go on: stay, now he talks.
Jun. Why?
Why should I love mine enemie? what is beauty?
Of what strange violence, that like the plague,
It works upon our spirits? blind they feign him,
I am sure, I find it so.
Petill. A Dog shall lead ye.
Jun. His fond affections blinder.
Petill. Hold ye there still.
Jun. It takes away my sleep.
Petill. Alas, poor chicken.
Jun. My company, content; almost my fashion.
Petill. Yes, and your weight too, if you follow it.
Jun. 'Tis sure the plague, for no man dare come near me
Without an Antidote: 'tis far worse; Hell.
Petill. Thou art damn'd without redemption then.
Jun. The way to't
Strew'd with fair Western smiles, and April blushes,
Led by the brightest constellations; eyes,
And sweet proportions, envying heaven: but from thence
No way to guide, no path, no wisdom bring us.
Petill. Yes, a smart water, Junius.
Jun. Do I fool?
Know all this, and fool still? Do I know further,
That when we have enjoy'd our ends, we lose 'em,
And all our appetites are but as dreams
We laugh at in our ages.
Petill. Sweet Philosopher!
Jun. Do I know on still, and yet know nothing? Mercy gods,
Why am I thus ridiculous?
Petill. Motley on thee,
Thou art an arrant Ass.
Jun. Can red and white,
An Eye, a Nose, a Cheek.
Petill. But one cheek, Junius?
An half-fac'd Mistriss?
Jun. With a little trim,
That wanton fools call Fashion, thus abuse me?
Take me beyond my reason? Why should not I
Doat on my horse well trapt, my sword well hatch'd?
They are as handsome things, to me more useful,
And possible to rule too. Did I but love,
Yet 'twere excusable, my youth would bear it;
But to love there, and that no time can give me,
Mine honor dare not ask: she has been ravish'd
My nature must not know; she hates our Nation.
Thus to dispose my spirit!
Petill. Stay a little,
He will declaim again.
Jun. I will not love; I am a man, have reason,
And I will use it: I'll no more tormenting,
Nor whining for a wench, there are a thousand.
Petill. Hold thee there boy.
Jun. A thousand will intreat me.
Petill. Ten thousand, Junius.
Jun. I am young and lusty,
And to my fashion valiant; can please nightly.
Petill. I'll swear thy back's probatum, for I have known thee
Leap at sixteen like a strong Stallion.
Jun. I will be man again.
Petill. Now mark the working,
The devil and the spirit tug for't: twenty pound
Upon the devils head.
Petill. I knew I had won.
Jun. Nor have I so much power
To shun my fortune.
Petill. I will hunt thy fortune
With all the shapes imagination breeds, [Musick.
But I will fright thy devil: Stay, he sings now.
Song, by Junius, and Petillius, after him in mockage.
Jun. Must I be thus abus'd?
Petill. Yes marry must ye.
Let's follow him close: oh, there he is, now read it.
Herald reads. It is the Generals command, that all sick, persons
old and unable, retire within the Trenches; he that fears his
liberty, to leave the Field: Fools, Boys, and Lovers must not
come near the Regiments, for fear of their infections; especially
those Cowards they call Lovers.
Jun. Ha?
Petill. Read on.
Herald. If any common Soldier love an enemy, he's whip'd
and made a slave: If any Captain, cast, with loss of honors,
flung out o'th' Army, and made unable ever after to bear
the name of a Soldier.
Jun. The —— consume ye all, Rogues. [Exit Jun.
Petill. Let this work:
H'as something now to chew upon: he's gone,
Come, shake no more.
Her. Well, Sir, you may command me,
But not to do the like again for Europe;
I would have given my life for a bent two-pence.
If I e'r read to Lovers whilst I live again,
Or come within their confines—
Petill. There's your payment,
And keep this private.
Her. I am school'd for talking. [Exit Herald.
Enter Demetrius.
Petill. How now, Demetrius, are we drawn?
Dem. 'Tis doing:
Your Company stands fair; but pray ye, where's Junius?
Half his command are wanting, with some forty
That Decius leads.
Petill. Hunting for Victuals:
Upon my life free-booting Rogues, their stomachs
Are like a widows lust, ne'r satisfied.
Dem. I wonder how they dare stir, knowing the enemy
Master of all the Countrey.
Petill. Resolute hungers
Know neither fears nor faiths, they tread on ladders,
Ropes, Gallows, and overdoe all dangers.
Dem. They may be hang'd though.
Petill. There's their joyful supper,
And no doubt they are at it.
Dem. But for heavens sake,
How does young Junius?
Petill. Drawing on, poor Gentleman.
Dem. What, to his end?
Petill. To th' end of all flesh: woman.
Dem. This Love has made him a stout Soldier.
Petill. O, a great one,
Fit to command young Goslings: but what news?
Dem. I think the messengers come back from Penyus,
By this time, let's go know.
Petill. What will you say now
If he deny to come, and take exceptions
At some half syllable, or sound deliver'd
With an ill accent, or some stile left out?
Dem. I cannot think he dare.
Petill. He dare speak treason,
Dare say, what no man dares believe, dares do—But
that's a[l]l one: I'll lay you my black armor
To twenty crowns, he comes not.
Dem. Done.
Petill. You'll pay.
Dem. I will.
Petill. Then keep thine old use Penyus,
Be stubborn and vain glorious, and I thank thee.
Come let's go pray for six hours: most of us
I fear will trouble heaven no more: two good blows
Struck home at two Commanders of the Britains,
And my part's done.
Dem. I do not think of dying.
Petill. 'Tis possible we may live. But Demetrius,
With what strange legs, and arms, and eyes, and noses,
Let Carpenters and Copper-smiths consider.
If I can keep my heart whole, and my wind-pipe,
That I may drink yet like a Soldier—
Dem. Come, let's [have] better thoughts; mine's on your Armour.
Petill. Mine's in your purse, Sir; Let's go try the wager. [Exeunt.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Judas and his four companions (halters about their
necks) Bonduca, her Daughters, Nennius following.
Bon. Come, hang 'em presently.
Nen. What made your Rogueships
Harrying for victuals here? Are we your friends;
Or do you come for Spies? tell me directly,
Would you not willingly be hang'd now? do not ye long for't?
Jud. What say ye? shall we hang in this vain? Hang we must
And 'tis as good to dispatch it merrily,
As pull an arse like dogs to't.
1 Sold. Any way,
So it be handsome.
3 Sold. I had as lief 'twere toothsome too: but all agree,
And I'll not out Boys.
4 Sold. Let's hang pleasantly.
Jud. Then pleasantly be it: Captain, the truth is,
We had as lief hang with meat in our mouths,
As ask your pardon empty.
Bon. These are brave hungers.
What say you to a leg of Beef now, sirrah?
Jud. Bring me acquainted with it, and I'll tell ye.
Bon. Torment 'em wenches: I must back; then hang 'em.
Jud. We humbly thank your Grace.
1 Daugh. The Rogues laugh at us.
2 Daugh. Sirrah, What think you of a wench now?
Jud. A wench, Lady?
I do beseech your Ladyship, retire.
I'll tell ye presently, ye see the time's short;
One crash; even to the setling of my conscience.
Nen. Why, is't no more but up, boys?
Jud. Yes, ride too Captain
Will you but see my seat?
1 Daugh. Ye shall be set, Sir,
Upon a jade shall shake ye.
Jud. Sheets, good Madam,
Will do it ten times better.
1 Daugh. Whips, good Soldier.
Which ye shall taste before ye hang, to mortifie ye;
'Tis pity ye should die thus desperate.
2 Daugh. These are the merry Romans the brave madcaps.
'Tis ten to one we'll cool your resolutions.
Bring out the whips.
Jud. Would your good Ladyships
Would exercise 'em too.
4 Sold. Surely Ladies,
We'll shew you a strange patience.
Nen. Hang 'em Rascals,
They'll talk thus on the wheel. [Enter Caratach.
Car. Now, what's the matter?
What are these fellows? what's the crime committed,
That they wear necklaces?
Nen. They are Roman Rogues,
Taken a Forraging.
Car. Is that all, Nennius?
Jud. Would I were fairly hang'd; this is the devil,
The kill-cow, Caratach,
Car. And you would hang 'em.
Nen. Are they not enemies?
1 Sol. My breech makes buttons.
1 Daugh. Are they not our tormentors?
Car. Tormentors? Flea-traps.
Pluck off your halters, fellows.
Nen. Take heed, Caratach,
Taint not your wisdom.
Car. Wisdom, Nennius?
Why, who shall fight against us, make our honors,
And give a glorious day into our hands,
If we dispatch our foes thus? what's their offence?
Stealing a loaf or two to keep out hunger,
A piece of greazie bacon, or a pudding?
Do these deserve the gallows, they are hungry,
Poor hungry knaves, no meat at home left, starv'd:
Art thou not hungry?
Jud. Monstrous hungry.
Car. He looks like hungers self: get 'em some victuals,
And Wine to cheer their hearts, quick: Hang up poor pilchers?
2 Sold. This is the bravest Captain—
Nen. Caratach,
I'll leave you to your Will.
Car. I'll answer all, Sir.
2 Daugh. Let's up and view his entertainment of ['em].
I am glad they are shifted any way, their tongues else
Would still have murdred us.
1 Daugh. Let's up and see it. [Exeunt.
Enter Hengo.