Leave thy lascivious wassails. When thou once
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow; whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought
up, with patience more
Than savages could suffer: thou didst drink
The stale of horses, and the gilded
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did deign
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;
like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
It is reported
thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on: and all this
It wounds thine honour that I speak
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not.
'Tis pity of him.
Let his shames quickly
Drive him to Rome: 'tis time we twain
Did show ourselves i' the field; and to that
Assemble we immediate council: Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.
I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able
front this present time.
Till which encounter,
It is my business too. Farewell.
Farewell, my lord: what you shall know meantime
Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be
Doubt not, sir;
I knew it for my bond.
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