Alreadie sacred is and given away.
Deathe is no stranger unto me, I have
The doubtfull hazard in twelve Battailes throwne;
My chaunce was life.

_Lucan_. Why doe we go to fight in Brittanie
And end our lives under another Sunne?
Seeke causelesse dangers out? The German might
Enioy his Woods and his owne Allis drinke,
Yet we walke safely in the streets of Rome;
_Bonduca_ hinders not but we might live,
Whom we do hurt. Them we call enemies,
And those our Lords that spoyle and murder us.

_Scevin_. Nothing is hard to them that dare to die.
This nobler resolution in you, Lords,
Heartens me to disclose some thoughts that I--
The matter is of waight and dangerous.

_Lucan_. I see you feare us _Scaevinus_.[11]

_Scevin_. Nay, nay, although the thing be full of feare.

_Flav_. Tell it to faithfull Eares what eare it bee.

_Scevin_. Faith, let it goe, it will but trouble us,
Be hurtfull to the speaker and the hearer.

_Lucan_. If our long friendship or the opinion--