Tigell. Who? that guiddy French-man?
Nimph. His Province is disarm'd, my Lord; he hath No legion nor a souldier under him.
Epaphr. One that by blood and rapine would repaire His state consum'd in vanities and lust.
Enter another Roman.
Tigell. He would not find out three to follow him.
A Mess. More newes, my Lord.
Nero. Is it of Vindex that thou hast to say?
Mess. Vindex is up and with him France in Armes;
The Noblemen and people throng to th'cause;
Money and Armour Cities doe conferre;
The countrey doth send in provision;
Young men bring bodies, old men lead them forth;
Ladies doe coine their Iewels into pay;
The sickle now is fram'd into a sword
And drawing horses are to manage taught;
France nothing doth but warre and fury breath.
Nero. All this fierce talk's but "Vindex doth rebell"; And I will hang him.
Tigell. How long came you forth after the other messenger?