[Loud shout within.
Shame tread upon thy heels; all's lost, all's lost, heark,
Heark how the Romans ring our knels. [Ext. Bond., &c.
Hen. Good Uncle,
Let me go too.
Car. No boy, th[y] fortune's mine,
I must not leave thee; get behind me; shake not,
Enter Petillius, Junius, Decius.
I'll breech ye, if ye do boy: Come, brave Romans,
All is not lost yet.
Jun. Now I'll thank thee, Caratach. [Fight. Drums.
Car. Thou art a Soldier: strike home, home, have at ye.
Pen. His blows fall like huge sledges on an anvil.
Dec. I am weary.