Car. Lie!
Phil. Lie! a pox upon't, cardinal, come on,
Second the desperate vanguard which is mine,
And where I'll die or win. Follow my sword
The bloody way I lead it, or, by heaven,
I'll play the devil, and mar all! we'll turn our backs
Upon the Moors, and set on thee; ay, thee,
Thee, cardinal! s'heart! thee.
Car. Your desperate arm
Hath almost thrust quite through the heart of hope:
Our fortunes lie a-bleeding by your rash
And violent onset.
Phil. O, O, s'life! s'foot! will you [not] fight?
Car. We will not hazard all upon one cast.
Phil. You will not?
Car. No.
Phil. Coward!
Car. By deeds I'll try.
Whether your venomous tongue says true. Farewell;
Courage shines both in this and policy.
[Exit.