Eliot. And all.
Ren. Who are on my side?
Spin. Every honest sword.
Let's die like men, and not be sold like slaves.
Pier. One such word more, by Heaven, I'll to the Senate,
And hang ye all like dogs in clusters.
Why peep your coward swords half out their shells?
Why do you not all brandish them like mine?
You fear to die, and yet dare talk of killing!
Ren. Go to the Senate and betray us; hasten,
Secure thy wretched life; we fear to die
Less than thou darest be honest.
Pier. That's rank falsehood.
Fear'st not thou death? fie! there's a knavish itch
In that salt blood, an utter foe to smarting.
Had Jaffier's wife proved kind, he had still been true.
Faugh! how that stinks!
Thou die! thou kill my friend! or thou, or thou;
Or thou, with that lean, withered, wretched face!
Away! disperse all to your several charges,
And meet to-morrow where your honour calls you;
I'll bring that man whose blood you so much thirst for,
And you shall see him venture for you fairly.
Hence, hence, I say. [Exit Renault angrily.
Spin. I fear we've been to blame,
And done too much.
Theo. 'Twas too far urged against the man you loved.
Rev. Here, take our swords, and crush them with your feet.
Spin. Forgive us, gallant friend.