SYLLA. I like no ifs from such a simple groom. I will be happy in despite of state. And why? because I never feared fate. But come, Arcathius, for your father's sake: Enjoin your fellow-princes to their tasks, And help to succour these my weary bones. Tut, blush not, man, a greater state than thou Shall pleasure Sylla in more baser sort. Aristion is a jolly-timber'd man, Fit to conduct the chariot of a king: Why, be not squeamish, for it shall go hard, But I will give you all a great reward. ARCATHIUS. Humbled by fate, like wretched men we yield. SYLLA. Arcathius, these are fortunes of the field. Believe me, these brave captives draw by art, And I will think upon their good desert. But stay you, strangers, and respect my words. Fond heartless men, what folly have I seen! For fear of death can princes entertain Such bastard thoughts, that now from glorious arms Vouchsafe to draw like oxen in a plough? Arcathius, I am sure Mithridates Will hardly brook the scandal of his name: 'Twere better in Pisae[127] to have died, Aristion, than amidst our legions thus to draw. ARISTION. I tell thee, Sylla, captives have no choice, And death is dreadful to a captive man. SYLLA. In such imperfect mettles[128] as is yours: But Romans, that are still allur'd by fame, Choose rather death than blemish of their name. But I have haste, and therefore will reward you. Go, soldiers, with as quick despatch as may be, Hasten their death, and bring them to their end, And say in this that Sylla is your friend. ARCATHIUS. O, ransom thou our lives, sweet conqueror! SYLLA. Fie, foolish men, why fly you happiness? Desire you still to lead a servile life? Dare you not buy delights with little pains? Well, for thy father's sake, Arcathius, I will prefer thy triumphs with the rest. Go, take them hence, and when we meet in hell, Then tell me, princes, if I did not well. [_Exeunt milites_. Lucullus, thus these mighty foes are down, Now strive thou for the King of Pontus' crown. I will to Rome; go thou, and with thy train Pursue Mithridates, till he be slain. LUCULLUS. With fortune's help: go calm thy country's woes, Whilst I with these seek out our mighty foes. _Enter MARIUS solus, from the Numidian mountains, feeding on roots_.