Eul. What were his looks?
Rol. His brows were like a stormy winter night,
When Juno scolding and Mars malcontent
Disturb the air. At each look lightning flies;
Jove 'gainst the giants needed but his eyes.
Eul. How eloquent is fear!
Rol. So came he stalking with a beam-like spear:
I gave the onset, then receiv'd his charge,
And next blow cleft his morion:[302] so he flies.
Eul. O, bravely done! here comes a straggling soldier.
Enter Laberius.
Rol. 'Tis he, 'tis he. I care not for vain glory;
It's sweeter live, than dead to be a story. [Runs away.
Eul. O valiant coward, stay! There's not a spark
Of Briton spirit doth enlive thy corpse. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Nennius pursuing.