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.