Alarum, Drummes and Trumpets.
Retire, we haue engag'd our ſelues too farre:
Cæſar himſelfe ha's worke, and our oppreſſion
Exceeds what weexpected. Exit.
Enter Anthony, and Scarrus wounded.
O my braue Emperor, this is fought indeed,
Had we done ſo at firſt, we had drouen them home
With clowtsabout their heads. Far off.
Thou bleed'ſt apace.
I had a wound heere that was like a T,
But now 'tis made an H.
They do retyre.
Wee'l beat 'em into Bench-holes, I haue yet
Roome for ſix ſcotches more.
They are beaten Sir, and our aduantage ſerues
For a faire victory.
Let vs ſcore their backes,
And ſnatch 'em vp, as we take Hares behinde,
'Tis ſport to maul a Runner.
I will reward thee
Once for thy ſprightly comfort, and ten-fold
For thy good valour. Come thee on.
Ile halt after. Exeunt