SECOND SERVINGMAN. Worth six on him. FIRST SERVINGMAN. Nay, not so neither. But I take him to be the greater soldier. SECOND SERVINGMAN. Faith, look you, one cannot tell how to say that. For the defence of a town our general is excellent. FIRST SERVINGMAN. Ay, and for an assault too. Enter the Third Servingman. THIRD SERVINGMAN. O slaves, I can tell you news, news, you rascals! FIRST and SECOND SERVINGMAN. What, what, what? Let’s partake. THIRD SERVINGMAN. I would not be a Roman, of all nations; I had as lief be a condemned man. FIRST and SECOND SERVINGMAN. Wherefore? Wherefore? THIRD SERVINGMAN. Why, here’s he that was wont to thwack our general, Caius Martius. FIRST SERVINGMAN. Why do you say, “thwack our general”? THIRD SERVINGMAN. I do not say “thwack our general,” but he was always good enough for him. SECOND SERVINGMAN. Come, we are fellows and friends. He was ever too hard for him; I have heard him say so himself. FIRST SERVINGMAN. He was too hard for him directly, to say the troth on’t, before Corioles; he scotched him and notched him like a carbonado. SECOND SERVINGMAN. An he had been cannibally given, he might have boiled and eaten him too. FIRST SERVINGMAN. But, more of thy news? THIRD SERVINGMAN. Why, he is so made on here within as if he were son and heir to Mars; set at upper end o’ th’ table; no question asked him by any of the senators but they stand bald before him. Our general himself makes a mistress of him, sanctifies himself with’s hand, and turns up the white o’ th’ eye to his discourse. But the bottom of the news is, our general is cut i’ th’ middle and but one half of what he was yesterday, for the other has half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole table. He’ll go, he says, and sowl the porter of Rome gates by th’ ears. He will mow all down before him and leave his passage polled. SECOND SERVINGMAN. And he’s as like to do’t as any man I can imagine. THIRD SERVINGMAN. Do’t? He will do’t! For look you, sir, he has as many friends as enemies, which friends, sir, as it were, durst not, look you, sir, show themselves, as we term it, his friends whilest he’s in directitude. FIRST SERVINGMAN. Directitude? What’s that? THIRD SERVINGMAN. But when they shall see, sir, his crest up again, and the man in blood, they will out of their burrows like coneys after rain, and revel all with him. FIRST SERVINGMAN. But when goes this forward? THIRD SERVINGMAN. Tomorrow, today, presently. You shall have the drum struck up this afternoon. ’Tis as it were parcel of their feast, and to be executed ere they wipe their lips. SECOND SERVINGMAN. Why then, we shall have a stirring world again. This peace is nothing but to rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad-makers.