Enter Pontius.
Bal. Here's Pontius.
Pon. Not kill'd him yet?
Is this the love ye bear the Emperour?
Nay then I see ye are Traitors all, have at ye.— [Lici. runs away.
Chi. Oh I am hurt.
Bal. And I am kill'd— [Exeunt Chil. and Bal.
Pon. Dye Bawds;
As ye have liv'd and flourish'd.
Aeci. Wretched fellow,
What hast thou done?
Pon. Kill'd them that durst not kill,
And you are next.
Aeci. Art thou not Pontius?
Pon. I am the same you cast Æcius,
And in the face of all the Camp disgrac'd.