_1. Dau._ The children of as great as _Rome_, as noble, Our names before her, and our deeds her envy; Must we guild ore your Conquest, make your State, That is not fairly strong, but fortunate? No, no, ye _Romans_, we have ways to scape ye, To make ye poor again, indeed our prisoners, And stick our triumphs full. _Petill._ 's death, I shall love her. _1. Dau._ To torture ye with suffering, like our slaves; To make ye curse our patience, wish the world Were lost again, to win us only, and esteem The end of all ambitions. _Bond._ Do ye wonder? We'll make our monuments in spite of fortune, In spight of all your Eagles wings: we'll work A pitch above ye; and from our height we'll stoop As fearless of your bloody soars; and fortunate, As if we prey'd on heartless doves. _Swet._ Strange stiffness. _Decius_, go charge the breach. [_Exit Decius._ _Bond._ Charge it home, _Roman_, We shall deceive thee else. Where's _Nennius_? _Enter_ Nennius. _Nen._ They have made a mighty breach. _Bond._ Stick in thy body, And make it good but half an hour. _Nen._ I'll do it. _1. Dau._ And then be sure to dye. _Nen._ It shall go hard else. _Bond._ Fare well with all my heart; we shall meet yonder, Where few of these must come. _Nen._ Gods take thee, Lady. [_Exit Nennius._ _Bond._ Bring up the swords, and poison. _Enter one with Swords, and a great Cup._ _2. Dau._ O my fortune! _Bond._ How, how, ye whore? _2. Dau._ Good mother, nothing to offend ye. _Bond._ Here, wench: Behold us, _Romans_. _Swet._ Mercy yet. _Bond._ No talking: Puff, there goes all your pitty. Come, short prayers, And let's dispach the business: you begin, Shrink not; I'll see ye do't. _2. Dau._ O gentle mother, O _Romans_, O my heart; I dare not. _Swet._ Woman, woman, Unnatural woman. _2. Dau._ O perswade her, _Romans_: Alass, I am young, and would live. Noble mother, Can ye kill that ye gave life? are my years Fit for destruction? _Swet._ Yield, and be a Queen still, A mother and a friend. _Bond._ Ye talk: come, hold it, And put it home. _1. Dau._ Fie, sister, fie, What would you live to be? _Bond._ A whore still. _2. Dau._ Mercy. _Swet._ Hear her, thou wretched woman. _2. Dau._ Mercy, mother: O whither will you send me? I was once Your darling, your delight. _Bond._ O gods, Fear in my family? do it, and nobly. _2. Dau._ O do not frown then. _1. Daugh._ Do it, worthy Sister: 'Tis nothing, 'tis a pleasure; we'll go with ye. _2. Daugh._ O if I knew but whither. _1. Daugh._ To the blessed, Where we shall meet our Father. _Swet._ Woman. _Bond._ Talk not. _1. Daugh._ Where nothing but true joy is.