Pet. Well; some few scurvy wounds, my heart's whole yet.
Dem. Would they would give us more ground.
Swet. Give? we'll have it.
Petill. Have it? and hold it too, despight the devill.
Enter Junius, Decius, Curius.
Jun. Lead up to th' head, and line: sure the Qs. Battell
Begins to charge like wild-fire: where's the General?
Swet. Oh, they are living yet. Come my brave soldiers,
Come, let me pour Romes blessing on ye; Live,
Live, and lead Armies all: ye bleed hard.
Jun. Best:
We shall appear the sterner to the foe.
Dec. More wounds, more honor.
Petill. Lose no time.