Get. I dye, I am gone.
Oh my sweet physiognomy.
Enter three Persians.
2 Guard. They come,
Now fight, or dye indeed.
Get. I will 'scape this way;
I cannot hold my Sword; what would you have
Of a maim'd man?
1 Guard. Nay, then I have a goad
To prick you forward, Oxe.
2 Guard. Fight like a Man,
Or dye like a Dog.
Get. Shall I, like Cæsar, fall
Among my friends? no mercy? Et tu Brute?
You shall not have the honour of my death,
I'll fall by the Enemy first.
1 Guard. O brave, brave Geta, [Persians driven off.
He plays the Devil now.
Enter Niger.
Nig. Make up for honour,
The Persians shrink. The passage is laid open,
Great Dioclesian, like a second Mars,
His strong arm govern'd by the fierce Bellona,
Performs more than a man; his shield struck full
Of Persian Darts, which now are his defence
Against the Enemies Swords, still leads the way.
Of all the Persian Forces, one strong Squadron,