Enter Petillius and Junius on the rock.
Hah? dare ye Romans? ye shall win me bravely.
Thou art mine. [Fight.
Jun. Not yet, Sir.
Car. Breath ye, ye poor Romans,
And come up all, with all your antient valors,
Like a rough wind I'll shake your souls, and send 'em—
Enter Swetonius, and all the Roman Captains.
Swet. Yield thee bold Caratach; by all ——
As I am Soldier, as I envie thee,
I'll use thee like thy self, the valiant Britain.
Pet. Brave soldier yield; thou stock of Arms and Honor,
Thou filler of the World with Fame and Glory.
Jun. Most worthy man, we'll wooe thee, be thy prisoners.
Swet. Excellent Britain, do me but that Honor,
That more to me than Conquests, that true happiness,
To be my friend.
Car. Oh Romans, see what here is:
Had this Boy liv'd—