[watching two Roman nobles being forced by a slave on horseback to fight to the death]

Ah-ha ha! Come on, fat boy! Yeah!

[as Spartacus enters the arena]

Spartacus! Hey, Spartacus!

Noble Romans, fight each other like animals. [gestures to the slaves on the balcony] Your new masters, betting to see who'll die first. [the slaves laugh] Drop your weapons. [the slaves start booing]

No! No! No! No!

I want to see their blood, right here where Draba died! [jumps down and draws his sword] When I fight matched pairs, they fight to the death!

I made myself a promise, Crixus. I swore that if I ever get out of this place, I'd die before I saw two men fight to the death again. Draba made that promise too. He kept it, so will I. [turns to the nobles] Go on. Get up! [Spartacus turns to the slaves as the nobles scurry out of the arena] What are we, Crixus? What are we becoming, Romans? What's happening to us? Have we learned nothing? We hunt wine when we should be looking for bread.

When you got wine, you don't need bread!

You can't just be a gang of drunken raiders.

What else can we be?

Gladiators, an army of gladiators. There's never been an army like that. One gladiator is worth any two Roman soldiers that ever lived.

We beat the Romans guards here, but a Roman army is different. They fight different than we do, too.

We can beat anything they send against us if we really want to.

It takes a big army.

We'll have a big army. Once we're on the march, we'll free every slave in every town and village. Can anybody get a bigger army than that?

That's right. Once we cross the Alps, we're safe.

Nobody can cross the Alps. Every pass is defended by its own legion.