Dem. I think the messengers come back from Penyus,
By this time, let's go know.
Petill. What will you say now
If he deny to come, and take exceptions
At some half syllable, or sound deliver'd
With an ill accent, or some stile left out?
Dem. I cannot think he dare.
Petill. He dare speak treason,
Dare say, what no man dares believe, dares do—But
that's a[l]l one: I'll lay you my black armor
To twenty crowns, he comes not.
Dem. Done.
Petill. You'll pay.
Dem. I will.
Petill. Then keep thine old use Penyus,
Be stubborn and vain glorious, and I thank thee.
Come let's go pray for six hours: most of us
I fear will trouble heaven no more: two good blows
Struck home at two Commanders of the Britains,
And my part's done.
Dem. I do not think of dying.
Petill. 'Tis possible we may live. But Demetrius,
With what strange legs, and arms, and eyes, and noses,
Let Carpenters and Copper-smiths consider.
If I can keep my heart whole, and my wind-pipe,
That I may drink yet like a Soldier—