[_They march and go out._ CÆSAR, _&c._ CÆS. What, still fresh supplies come thronging from their dens! The nest of hornets is awake. I think Here's nature's shop: here men are made, not born; Nor stay nine tedious months, but in a trice Sprout up like mushrooms at war's thunderclap. We must make out a way. [_Exeunt._ ROLLANO, _armed cap-a-pie_. ROL. Since I must fight, I am prepar'd to fight! And much inflam'd with noise of trump and drum: Methinks I am turn'd lion, and durst meet Ten Cæsars. Where are all these covetous rogues, Who spoil the rich for gain, and kill the poor For glory? bloodsuckers and public robbers. [LABERIUS _enters_, ROLLANO _retires, afraid;_ _but being gone out, goes forward_. ROL. Nay, stay, and brag Rollano did thee kill: Stay, let me flesh my sword, and wear thy spoils. [LABERIUS _re-enters with an ensign_. LAB. Come, will ye forsake your ensign, and fall off? I call to witness all the gods, I here Perform my duty. Thou canst not escape. [ROLLANO _would fly, fights, falls as wounded_. Now die, or yield thyself! ROL. I yield, I yield! O, save my life, I yield! I am no Briton, but by chance come hither. I'll never more lift weapon in their quarrel. LAB. How may I trust your faith? ROL. Command me anything. LAB. Lay down your neck. [_Treads on it._ Give up your sword. [_Beats him with it._ Base coward, live: such foes will ne'er do hurt. [_Exit._ _Enter_ EULINUS, ANDROGEUS, BELINUS, _with_ _bloody swords_. EUL. Rollano! what, at stand? pursue the chase. ROL. I made their strongest captain fly: this hand, This martial hand, I say, did make him fly. EUL. Some silly scout! ROL. He was a match for Cyclops; at each step The ground danc'd, and his nostrils blew the dust: Arm'd as the god of battle pictur'd is. EUL. What were his looks? ROL. His brows were like a stormy winter night, When Juno scolding and Mars malcontent Disturb the air. At each look lightning flies; Jove 'gainst the giants needed but his eyes. EUL. How eloquent is fear! ROL. So came he stalking with a beam-like spear: I gave the onset, then receiv'd his charge, And next blow cleft his morion:[302] so he flies. EUL. O, bravely done! here comes a straggling soldier. _Enter_ LABERIUS. ROL. 'Tis he, 'tis he. I care not for vain glory; It's sweeter live, than dead to be a story. [_Runs away._