_Gril._ Come on, fellow soldiers, _Commilitones_; that's my word, as 'twas Julius Caesar's, of pagan memory. 'Fore God, I am no speech maker; but there are the rogues, and here's bilbo, that's a word and a blow; we must either cut their throats, or they cut ours, that's pure necessity, for your comfort: Now, if any man can be so unkind to his own body,--for I meddle not with your souls,--as to stand still like a good Christian, and offer his weasand to a butcher's whittle,--I say no more, but that he may be saved, and that's the best can come on him. [_Cry on both sides,_ Vive le Roi, vive Guise! _They fight._ _Mel._ Hey, for the duke of Guise, and property! Up with religion and the cause, and down with those arbitrary rogues there! Stand to't, you associated cuckolds. [_Citizens go back._] O rogues! O cowards!--Damn these half-strained shopkeepers, got between gentlemen and city wives; how naturally they quake, and run away from their own fathers! twenty souls a penny were a dear bargain of them. [_They all run off,_ MELANAX _with them; the 1st and 2d Citizens taken._ _Gril._ Possess yourselves of the place, Maubert, and hang me up those two rogues, for an example. _1 Cit._ O spare me, sweet colonel; I am but a young beginner, and new set up. _Gril._ I'll be your customer, and set you up a little better, sirrah;--go, hang him at the next sign-post:--What have you to say for yourself, scoundrel? why were you a rebel? _2 Cit._ Look you, colonel, 'twas out of no ill meaning to the government; all that I did, was pure obedience to my wife. _Gril._ Nay, if thou hast a wife that wears the breeches, thou shalt be condemned to live: Get thee home for a hen-pecked traitor.--What, are we encompassed? Nay, then, faces this way; we'll sell our skins to the fairest chapmen. _Enter_ AUMALE _and Soldiers, on the one side, Citizens on the other._ GRILLON, _and his Party, are disarmed._ _1 Cit._ Bear away that bloody-minded colonel, and hang him up at the next sign-post: Nay, when I am in power, I can make examples too. _Omn._ Tear him piece-meal; tear him piece-meal. [_Pull and haul him._ _Gril._ Rogues, villains, rebels, traitors, cuckolds! 'Swounds, what do you make of a man? do you think legs and arms are strung upon a wire, like a jointed baby? carry me off quickly, you were best, and hang me decently, according to my first sentence. _2 Cit._ Look you, colonel; you are too bulky to be carried off all at once; a leg or an arm is one man's burden: give me a little finger for a sample of him, whereby I'll carry it for a token to my sovereign lady. _Gril._ 'Tis too little, in all conscience, for her; take a bigger token, cuckold. _Et tu, Brute,_ whom I saved? O the conscience of a shopkeeper!