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.