w so in a Souldier,
So simply, and so ridiculously, so tamely--

_Pho._ If people would believe thee, 'twere some honesty,
And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee
(As sure they will) and beat thee for thy poverty:
If they would allow thy foolery, there were some hope.

_Sep._ My foolery?

_Pho._ Nay, more than that, thy misery,
Thy monstrous misery.

_A[c]hil._ He begins to hearken:
Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee.

_Sep._ That this were true!

_Pho._ Why does this conquering _Caesar_
Labour through the worlds deep Seas of toyls and troubles,
Dangers, and desperate hopes? to repent afterwards?
Why does he slaughter thousands in a Battel,
And whip his Country with the sword? to cry for't?
Thou killd'st great _Pompey_; he'l kill all his kindred,
And justifie it: nay raise up _Trophies_ to it.
When thou hear'st him repent, (he's held most holy too)
And cry for doing daily bloody murthers,
Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness,
Call up the thing thou nam'st thy conscience,
And let it work: then 'twill seem well _Septimius_.

_Sep._ He does all this.

_Achil._ Yes: and is honour'd for it;
Nay call'd the honour'd _Caesar_, so maist thou be:
Thou wert born as near a Crown as he.

_Sep._ He was poor.

_Pho._ And desperate bloody tricks got him this credit.

_Sep._ I am afraid you will once more--

_Pho._ Help to raise thee:
Off with thy pining black, it dulls a Souldier,
And put on resolution like a man,
A noble Fate waits on thee.

_Sep._ I now feel
My self returning Rascal speedily.
O that I had the power--

_Achil._ Thou shalt have all:
And do all through thy power, men shall admire thee,
And the vices of _Septimius_ shall turn vertues.

_Sep._ Off: off: thou must off: off my cowardize,
Puling repentance off.

_Pho._ Now thou speakst nobly.

_Sep._ Off my dejected looks: and welcom impudence:
My daring shall be Deity, to save me:
Give me instructions, and put action on me:
A glorious cause upon my swords point, Gentlemen,
And let my wit, and valour work: you will raise me,
And make me out-dare all my miseries?

_Pho._ All this, and all thy wishes.

_Sep._ Use me then,
Womanish fear farewell: I'le never melt more,
Lead on, to some great thing, to wake my spirit:
I cut the Cedar _Pompey_, and I'le fell
This huge Oak _Caesar_ too.

_Pho._ Now thou singst sw