SYLLA. Gay words, Norbanus, full of eloquence, Accompanied with action and conceit: But I must teach thee judgment therewithal Dar'st thou approach my presence, that hast borne Thine arms in spite of Sylla and his friends? I tell thee, foolish man, thy judgment wanted In this presumptuous purpose that is pass'd: And, loitering scholar, since you fail in art, I'll learn you judgment shortly to your smart. Despatch him, soldiers; I must see him die. And you, Carinna, Carbo's ancient friend, Shall follow straight your headless[156] general. And, Scipio, were it not I lov'd thee well, Thou should'st accompany these slaves to hell: But get you gone, and if you love yourself. [_Exit_ SCIPIO. CARINNA. Pardon me, Sylla! pardon, gentle Sylla! SYLLA. Sirrah, this gentle name was coin'd too late, And shadow'd in the shrouds of biting hate. Despatch! [_Kill him_.] why so; good fortune to my friends-- As for my foes, even such shall be their ends. Convey them hence. Metellus, gentle Metellus, Fetch me Sertorius from Iberia: In doing so thou standest me in stead, For sore I long to see the traitor's head. METELLUS. I go, confirm'd to conquer him by sword, Or in th'exploit to hazard life and all. [_Exit_. SYLLA. Now, Pompey, let me see: those senators Are dangerous stops of our pretended[157] state, And must be curtail'd, lest they grow too proud. I do proscribe just forty senators, Which shall be leaders in my tragedy. And for our gentlemen are over-proud, Of them a thousand and six hundred die; A goodly army, meet to conquer hell. Soldiers, perform the course of my decree. Their friends my foes, their foes shall be my friends. Go sell their goods by trumpet at your wills: Meanwhile Pompey shall see, and Rome shall rue, The miseries that shortly shall ensue. [_Exeunt_. _Alarum, skirmish, a retreat. Enter_ YOUNG MARIUS _upon the walls of_ PRAENESTE _with some Soldiers, all in black and wonderful melancholy_.