At a few drops of women's rheum, which are
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour
Of our great action: therefore shall he die, 48
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark!
Drums and trumpets sound, with great shouts
1. Con. Your native town you enter'd like a post,
And had no welcomes home; but he returns,
Splitting the air with noise.
2. Con. And patient fools, 52
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats tear
With giving him glory.
3. Con. Therefore, at your vantage,
Ere he express himself, or move the people
With what he would say, let him feel your sword, 56
Which we will second. When he lies along,
After your way his tale pronounc'd shall bury
His reasons with his body.
Auf. Say no more:
Here come the lords. 60
Enter the Lords of the City.
All Lords. You are most welcome home.
Auf. I have not deserv'd it.
But, worthy lords, have you with heed perus'd
What I have written to you?
All. We have.
1. Lord. And grieve to hear 't.
What faults he made before the last, I think, 64
Might have found easy fines; but there to end
46 rheum: tears, liquid secretion
50 post: messenger
54 at . . . vantage: as soon as favorable opportunity arises
57 along: prostrate
58 After . . . pronounc'd: your statement of his case
59 His reasons: what he might urge in his behalf
65 fines: penalties
