Dec. Is that fellow
Come to you for a guide yet?

Jun. Yes.

Dec. And examined?

Jun. Far more than that; he has felt tortures, yet
He vows he knows no more than this truth.

Dec. Strange!

Cur. If she mean what she writes, as it may be probable,
’Twill be the happiest vantage we can lean to.

Jun. I’ll pawn my soul she means truth.

Dec. Think an hour more;
Then, if your confidence grow stronger on you,
We’ll set in with you.

Jun. Nobly done! I thank ye.
Ye know the time.

Cur. We will be either ready
To give you present counsel, or join with you.

Enter Suetonius, Petillius, Demetrius, and Macer.

Jun. No more, as ye are gentlemen. The general!

Suet. Draw out apace; the enemy waits for us.
Are ye all ready?

Jun. All our troops attend, sir.

Suet. I am glad to hear you say so, Junius:
I hope you are dispossess’d.

Jun. I hope so too, sir.

Suet. Continue so. And, gentlemen, to you now!
To bid you fight is needless; ye are Romans,
The name will fight itself: To tell ye who
You go to fight against, his power, and nature,
But loss of time; ye know it, know it poor,
And oft have made it so: To tell ye further,
His body shows more dreadful than it has done,
To him that fears less possible to deal with,
Is but to stick more honour on your actions,
Load ye with virtuous names, and to your memories
Tie never-dying Time and Fortune constant.
Go on in full assurance! draw your swords
As daring and as confident as justice;
The gods of Rome fight for ye; loud Fame calls ye,
Pitch’d on the topless Apennine, and blows
To all the under-world, all nations,
The seas and unfrequented deserts, where the snow dwells;
Wakens the ruin’d monuments; and there,
Where nothing but eternal death and sleep is,
Informs again the dead bones with your virtues.
Go on, I say: Valiant and wise rule Heaven,
And all the great aspects attend ’em; Do but blow
Upon this enemy, who, but that we want foes,
Cannot deserve that name; and like a mist,
A lazy fog, before your burning valours
You’ll find him fly to nothing. This is all,
We have swords, and are the sons of ancient Romans,
Heirs to their endless valours; fight and conquer!

Dec. Dem. ’Tis done.

Pet. That man that loves not this day,
And hugs not in his arms the noble danger,
May he die fameless and forgot!

Suet. Sufficient!
Up to your troops, and let your drums beat thunder;
March close and sudden, like a tempest: All executions

[March.