Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st
Hirtius and Pansa, consuls, at thy heel
Did famine follow, whom thou fought'st against,
Though daintily brought up, with patience more60
Than savages could suffer; thou didst drink
The stale of horses and the gilded puddle
Which beasts would cough at; thy palate then did deign
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge;64
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets,
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps
It is reported thou didst eat strange flesh,
Which some did die to look on; and all this—68
It wounds thy honour that I speak it now—
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek
So much as lank'd not not.
Lep. 'Tis pity of him.
Cæs. Let his shames quickly72
Drive him to Rome. 'Tis time we twain
Did show ourselves i' the field; and to that end
Assemble we immediate council; Pompey
Thrives in our idleness.
Lep. To-morrow, Cæsar,76
I shall be furnish'd to inform you rightly
Both what by sea and land I can be able
To front this present time.
Cæs. Till which encounter,
It is my business too. Farewell.80
Lep. Farewell, my lord. What you shall know
meantime
Of stirs abroad, I shall beseech you, sir,
To let me be partaker.
62 stale: urine gilded: of a golden color
71 lank'd not: did not become shrunken