SCARUS.
O my brave emperor, this is fought indeed!
Had we done so at first, we had droven them home
With clouts about their heads.
ANTONY.
Thou bleed’st apace.
SCARUS.
I had a wound here that was like a T,
But now ’tis made an H.
Sounds retreat far off.
ANTONY.
They do retire.
SCARUS.
We’ll beat ’em into bench-holes. I have yet
Room for six scotches more.
Enter Eros.
EROS.
They are beaten, sir, and our advantage serves
For a fair victory.
SCARUS.
Let us score their backs
And snatch ’em up as we take hares, behind.
’Tis sport to maul a runner.
ANTONY.
I will reward thee
Once for thy sprightly comfort, and tenfold
For thy good valour. Come thee on.