O stain to my great actions: 'twas my custom,
An Army routed, as my feet had wings
To be first in the chase: nor walls, nor Bulworks
Could guard those that escap'd the Battels fury
From this strong Arm; and I to be enclos'd?
My heart! my heart! but 'tis necessity,
To which the Gods must yield, and I obey,
'Till I redeem it by some glorious way. [Exeunt.
SCENA II.
Enter Photinus, Achillas, Septimius, Souldiers.