And all the borders of great Aquitaine, 
Have felt the force of our victorious arms, 
And to their cost beheld our chivalry. 
Where ere Aurora, handmaid of the Sun, 
Where ere the Sun, bright guardiant of the day, 
Where ere the joyful day with cheerful light, 
Where ere the light illuminates the world, 
The Trojan’s glory flies with golden wings, 
Wings that do soar beyond fell ennui’s flight. 
The fame of Brutus and his followers 
Pierceth the skies, and with the skies the throne 
Of mighty Jove, Commander of the world. 
Then worthy Brutus, leave these sad laments; 
Comfort yourself with this your great renown, 
And fear not death though he seem terrible. 

BRUTUS. 
Nay, Corineus, you mistake my mind 
In construing wrong the cause of my complaints. 
I feared to yield myself to fatal death! 
God knows it was the least of all my thoughts; 
A greater care torments my very bones, 
And makes me tremble at the thought of it, 
And in you, Lordings, doth the substance lie. 

THRASI. 
Most noble Lord, if ought your loyal peers 
Accomplish may, to ease your lingering grief, 
I, in the name of all, protest to you, 
That we will boldly enterprise the same, 
Were it to enter to black Tartarus, 
Where triple Cerberus with his venomous throat, 
Scarreth the ghosts with high resounding noise. 
We’ll either rent the bowels of the earth, 
Searching the entrails of the brutish earth, 
Or, with his Ixion’s overdaring son, 
Be bound in chains of everduring steel. 

BRUTUS. 
Then harken to your sovereign’s latest words, 

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