Jud. The devil take the hindmost.
Heng. Run, run, ye Rogues, ye precious Rogues, ye rank Rogues.
A comes, a comes, a comes, a comes: that's he, boys.
What a brave cry they make!
Enter Caratach with a head.
Car. How does my chicken?
Heng. 'Faith, uncle, grown a Soldier, a great Soldier;
For by the virtue of your charging-staff,
And a strange fighting face I put upon't,
I have out-brav'd hunger.
Car. That's my boy, my sweet boy.
Here, here's a Roman's head for thee.
Heng. Good provision.
Before I starve, my sweet-fac'd Gentleman,
I'll trie your favour.
Car. A right compleat Soldier.
Come, chicken, let's go seek some place of strength
(The Countrey's full of Scouts) to rest a while in,
Thou wilt not else be able to endure
The journey to my Countrey, fruits, and water,
Must be your food a while, boy.
Heng. Any thing:
I can eat moss, I can live on anger,
To vex these Romans. Let's be wary, Uncle.
Car. I warrant thee; come chearfully.