Dion. Back to his aid!
Pan. Your wound, my lord.
Cal. Give valor space to breathe.
There'll be brave puffing ere the wall is down.
The channel banks it close, but we may breach it.
Speu. It must be done, and must, sir, captains may
In war.
Dion. Then to it! We waste breath.
Pan. Stay, sir!
We go—not you—for when our general bleeds