_Swet._ No more: We must not seem to mourn here.
_Dec._ There's a breach made, Is it your will we charge, Sir?
_Swet._ Once more mercy, Mercy to all that yield.
_Bond._ I scorn to answer: Speak to him girl; and hear thy Sister.
_1. Dau._ General, Hear me, and mark me well, and look upon me Directly in my face, my womans face. Whose only beauty is the hate it bears ye; See with thy narrowest eyes, thy sharpest wishes, Into my soul, and see what there inhabits; See if one fear, one shadow of a terror, One paleness dare appear but from my anger, To lay hold on your mercies. No, ye fools, Poor fortunes fools, we were not born for triumphs, To follow your gay sports, and fill your slaves With hoots and acclamations.
_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.
_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_?
_Bond._ Stick in thy body, And make it good but half an hour.
_Bond._ Fare well with all my heart; we shall meet yonder, Where few of these must come.
_Nen._ Gods take thee, Lady. [_Exit Nennius._
_Enter one with Swords, and a great Cup._
_2. Dau._ Good mother, nothing to offend ye.
_Bond._ Here, wench: Behold us, _Romans_.
_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.
_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?