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To mar men's heads than save them.

Nay all of you, I pray. (They all begin to take off their helmets, and part of their armour.)

And gentle Othus too, unbrace thyself:

How liked thou the gripe of soldiers' geer?

OTHUS.

Worn in the cause for which I wear it now,

It feels like the close hug of a rough friend,
Awkward but kindly.

CONSTANTINE.

Thanks, gen'rous Othus! it had pleas'd me better

To've had the gentle service of thy pen.
Thou could'st have told, if so it might have been,
How brave men acted, and how brave men fell,—

Well, let it be. (Turning aside to check his emotion, and then assuming a cheerful face.)

You gallant seamen, in th' applauding view

Of the throng'd beach, amidst the tempest's rage,
Ev'n on the last plank of your sever'd bark,
Ride it careeringly, my brave Rodrigo!

RODRIGO.

Yes, royal sir; with brave true-hearted mates

All things we do and bear right cheerfully.

CONSTANTINE.

And so will we.—Your hand, my gallant friend!

And yours, and yours, and yours, my brave Eubedes—