SCENE I.The same. The Tent of Penius.
Enter Penius, Regulus, Macer, and Drusius.
Pen. I must come?
Macer. So the general commands, sir.
Pen. I must bring up my regiment?
Macer. Believe, sir,
I bring no lie.
Pen. But did he say, I must come?
Macer. So delivered.
Pen. How long ist, Regulus, since I commanded
In Britain here?
Reg. About five years, great Penius.
Pen. The general some five months. Are all my actions
So poor and lost, my services so barren,
am rememberd in no nobler language
But must come up?
Macer. I do beseech you, sir,
Weigh but the times estate.
Pen. Yes, good lieutenant,
I do, and his that sways it. Must come up?
Am I turnd bare centurion? Must
Fit embassies to court my honour?
Pen. Set me to lead a handful of my men
Against an hundred thousand barbarous slaves,
marchd name by name with Romes best doers?
Serve em up some other meat; Ill bring no food
the jaws of all those hungry wolves:
My regiments mine own. I must, my language?
Cur. Penius, where lies the host?
Pen. Where Fate may find em.
Cur. Are they ingirt?
Pen. The battles lost.
Cur. So soon?
Pen. No; but tis lost, because it must be won;
The Britons must be victors. Whoeer saw
A troop of bloody
About a few corrupted carcasses,
Let him behold the silly Roman host,
Girded with millions
of fierce Britain swains,
With deaths as many as they have had hopes;
And then go thither, he that loves
I scorn my life, yet dare not lose my name.
Cur. Do not you hold it a most famous end,
When both our names and lives are sacrificed
Pen. Yes, Curius; but mark this too:
What glory is there, or what lasting fame
Can be to Rome or us, what
When one is smotherd with a multitude,
And crowded in amongst a nameless press?
got out of flint, and on their heads
Whose virtues, like the sun, exhaled all valours,
Must not be lost in