Now die, or yield thyself!
Rol. I yield, I yield! O, save my life, I yield!
I am no Briton, but by chance come hither.
I'll never more lift weapon in their quarrel.
Lab. How may I trust your faith?
Rol. Command me anything.
Lab. Lay down your neck. [Treads on it.
Give up your sword. [Beats him with it.
Base coward, live: such foes will ne'er do hurt. [Exit.
Enter Eulinus, Androgeus, Belinus, with bloody swords.
Eul. Rollano! what, at stand? pursue the chase.
Rol. I made their strongest captain fly: this hand,
This martial hand, I say, did make him fly.
Eul. Some silly scout!
Rol. He was a match for Cyclops; at each step
The ground danc'd, and his nostrils blew the dust:
Arm'd as the god of battle pictur'd is.