[Exit Regulus.]
Consul! death and furies!
Gone now!—The argument will please you, sir.
Ho! Regulus! The anger of the gods
Follow your diligent legs, and overtake ’em,
In likeness of the gout!—
Re-enter Regulus.
O, my good lord,
We lack’d you present; I would pray you send
Another to Fulcinius Trio, straight,
To tell him you will come, and speak with him:
The matter we’ll devise, to stay him there,
While I with Laco do survey the watch.
[Exit Regulus.]
What are your strengths, Gracinus?
LACO.
Seven cohorts.
MACRO.
You see what Cæsar writes; and—Gone again!
H’ has sure a vein of mercury in his feet.—
Know you what store of the prætorian soldiers
Sejanus holds about him, for his guard?
LACO.
I cannot the just number; but, I think,
Three centuries.
MACRO.
Three! good.