_Pon._ Against her I shall never: the condemn'd man Has yet that priviledge to speak, my Lord; Law were not equall else.
_Max._ Pray hear _Aecius_, For happily the fault he has committed, Though I believe it mighty, yet considered, If mercy may be thought upon, will prove Rather a hastie sin, than heynous.
_Pon._ 'Tis true my Lord, ye took me tir'd with peace, My words almost as ragged as my fortunes. 'Tis true I told the Souldier, whom we serv'd, And then bewail'd, we had an Emperour Led from us by the flourishes of Fencers; I blam'd him too for women.
_Pon._ And like enough I blest him then as Souldiers Will do sometimes: 'Tis true I told 'em too, We lay at home, to show our Country We durst goe naked, durst want meat, and mony, And when the slave drinks wine, we durst be thirstie: I told 'em this too, that the Trees and Roots Were our best pay-masters; the Charity Of longing women, that had bought our bodies, Our beds, fires, Taylers, Nurses. Nay I told 'em, (For you shall hear the greatest sin, I said Sir) By that time there be wars again, our bodies Laden with scarrs, and aches, and ill lodgings, Heats, and perpetual wants, were fitter prayers And certain graves, than cope the foe on crutches: 'Tis likely too, I counsell'd 'em to turn Their warlike pikes to plough-shares, their sure Targets And Swords hatcht with the bloud of many Nations, To Spades, and pruning Knives, for those get mony, Their warlike Eagles, into Daws, or Starlings, To give an _Ave Cæsar_ as he passes, And be rewarded with a thousand _drachma's_, For thus we get but years and beets.
_Aeci._ What think you, Were these words to be spoken by a Captain, One that should give example?
_Pon._ My Lord, I did not wooe 'em from the Empire, Nor bid 'em turn their daring steel 'gainst _Cæsar_, The Gods for ever hate me, if that motion Were part of me: Give me but imployment, Sir; And way to live, and where you hold me vicious, Bred up in mutiny, my Sword shall tell ye, And if you please, that place I held, maintain it, 'Gainst the most daring foes of _Rome_. I am honest, A lover of my Country, one that holds His life no longer his, than kept for _Cæsar_. Weigh not (I thus low on my knee beseech you) What my rude tongue discovered, 'twas my want, No other part of _Pontius_: you have seen me, And you my Lord, do something for my Country, And both beheld the wounds I gave and took, Not like a backward Traytor.