Constrains me to consent to your design,
However rash and hair-brained it may be.
By death in fight this insult we decline;
Who would not die of hunger come with me,
To force the trenches, and with one accord
Cut out a path to safety with the sword.
Fourth Numantine.
It seemeth good to me, before we dare
The desperate act which promises relief,
That we should summon from the rampart there