 | The Tragedie of Bonduca |  |
Actus Tertius.
Scæna Prima.
Enter a Messenger.Mess.
Prepare there for the Sacrifice, the Queen comes.
Musick.
Enter in Solemnity, the Druids singing, the second Daughter strewing flowers: then Bonduca, Caratach, Nennius, and others.
Bond.
Ye powerfull gods of Britain, hear our prayers;
hear us you great Revengers, and this day
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double the sad remembrance of our wrongs
in every brest; the vengeance due to those
make infinite and endlesse: on our pikes
this day pale terror sit, horrors and ruines
upon our executions; claps of thunder
hang on our armed carts, and fore our Troops
despair and death; shame beyond these attend 'em.
Rise from the dust, ye relicks of the dead,
whose noble deeds our holy Druids sing,
oh rise, ye valiant bones, let not base earth
oppresse your honours, whilest the pride of Rome
treads on your Stocks, and wipes out all your stories.
Nen.
Thou great Tiranes, whom our sacred Priests,
armed with dreadfull thunder, place on high
above the rest of the immortall gods,
send thy consuming fires and deadly bolts,
and shoot 'em home; stick in each Roman heart
a fear fit for confusion; blast their spirits,
dwell in 'em to destruction; thorow their Phalanx
strike, as thou strik'st a proud tree; shake their Bodies,
make their strengths totter, and their toplesse fortunes
unroot, and reel to ruine.
1. Daugh.
O thou god,
thou feared god, if ever to thy justice
insulting wrongs, and ravishments of women,
women deriv'd from thee, their shames, the suffrings
of those that daily fill'd thy Sacrifice
with virgin incense, have accesse, now hear me,
now snatch thy thunder up; now on these Romans,
despisers of thy power, of us defacers,
revenge thy self: take to thy killing anger,
to make thy great work full, thy justice spoken,
an utter rooting from this blessed Isle
of what Rome is or has been.
Bon.
Give more incense,
the gods are deafe and drowsie; no happy flame
rises to raise our thoughts: Pour on.
2. Daugh.
See heaven,
and all you pow'rs that guide us, see, and shame
we kneel so long for pitie over your Altars;
since 'tis no light oblation that you look for,
no incense offring, will I hang mine eyes;
and as I wear these stones with hourly weeping,
so will I melt your pow'rs into compassion.
This tear for Prosutagus my brave Father,
ye gods, now think on Rome; this for my Mother,
and all her miseries; yet see, and save us:
but now ye must be open ey'd. See, heaven,
O see thy showrs stoln from thee; our dishonours,
A smoak from the Altar.
O sister, our dishonours: can ye be gods,
and these sins smother'd?
Bon.
The fire takes.
Car.
It does so,
but no flame rises. Cease your fertfull prayers,
your whinings, and your tame petitions;
the gods love courage arm'd with confidence,
and prayers fit to pull them down: weak tears
and troubled hearts, the dull twins of cold spirits,
they sit and smile at. Hear how I salute 'em:
Divine Audate, thou who hold'st the reins
of furious Battles, and disordred War,
and proudly roll'st thy swarty chariot wheels
over the heaps of wounds, and carcasses,
sailing through seas of bloud; thou sure-steel'd sternnesse,
give us this day good hearts, good enemies,
good blowes o' both sides, wounds that fear or slight
can claim no share in; steel us both with angers,
and warlike executions fit thy viewing;
let Rome put on her best strength, and thy Britain,
thy little Britain, but as great in fortune,
meet her as strong as shee, as proud, as daring;
and then look on, thou red ey'd god: who does best,
reward with honour; who despair makes flie,
unarme for ever, and brand with infamie:
Grant this, divine Audate, 't is but Justice;
and my first blow thus on thy holy Altar
A flame arises.
I sacrifice unto thee.
Bon.
It flames out.
Musick.
Car.
Now sing ye Druides.
Song.
Bon.
'Tis out again.
Car.
H'as given us leave to fight yet; we ask no more,
the rest hangs in our resolutions:
tempt him no more.
Bon.
I would know further Cosen,
Car.
His hidden meaning dwels in our endeavours;
our valours are our best gods. Cheer the souldier,
and let him eat.
Mess.
He's at it, Sir.
Car.
Away then;
when he has done, let's march. Come, fear not Lady,
this day the Roman gains no more ground here,
but what his body lies in.
Bond.
Now I am confident.
Exeunt.
Recorders.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Junius, Curius, Decius.Dec.
We dare not hazzard it: beside our lives,
it forfeits all our understandings.
Jun.
Gentlemen,
Can ye forsake me in so just a service,
a service for the Common-wealth, for honour?
Read but the Letter; you may love too.
Dec.
Read it:
if there be any safety in the circumstance,
or likelihood 'tis love, we will not faile ye.
Read it good Curius.
Cur.
Willingly.
Jun.
Now mark it.
Cur.
reads.
Health to thy heart, my honourd Junius,
and all thy love requited: I am thine,
thine everlastingly, thy love has won me,
and let it breed no doubt; our new acquaintance
compels this, 'tis the gods decree to blesse us.
The times are dangerous to meet; yet fail not,
by all the love thou bear'st me I conjure thee,
without distrust of danger, to come to me,
for I have purpos'd a delivery
both of my self and fortune this blest day
into thy hands, if thou thinkst good: to shew thee
how infinite my love is, even my Mother
shall be thy prisoner, the day yours without hazzard;
for I beheld your danger like a Lover,
a just affecter of thy faith: Thy goodnesse,
I know, will use us nobly, and our marriage,
if not redeem, yet lessen Romes Ambition.
I am weary of these miseries: Use my Mother.
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and let this disobedience to my parents
be laid on love, not me. Bring with thee, Junius,
spirits resolv'd to fetch me off, the noblest,
forty will serve the turn; just at the joyning
of both the Battels, we will be weakly guarded;
and for a guide, within this hour shall reach thee
a faithfull friend of mine: the gods, my Junius,
keep thee, and me to serve thee: Young Bonvica.
Cur.
This letter carries much belief, and most objections
answer'd, we must have doubted.
Dec.
Is that fellow
come to ye for a guide yet?
Jun.
Yes.
Dec.
And examin'd?
Jun.
Far more then that; he has felt tortures, yet
he vows he knows no more then this truth.
Dec.
Strange.
Cur.
If she mean what she writes, as 't may be probable,
'twill be the happiest vantage we can lean to.
Jun.
I'll pawn my soul she means truth.
Dec.
Think an hour more,
then if your confidence grow stronger on ye,
we'll set in with ye.
Jun.
Nobly done; I thank ye;
ye know the time.
Cur.
We will be either ready
to give ye present counsell, or joyne with ye.
Enter Swetonius, Petillius, and Demetrius, Macer.
Jun.
No more as ye are Gentlemen. The Generall.
Swet.
Draw out a pace, the enemy waits for us;
Are ye all ready?
Jun.
All our Troops attend, Sir.
Swet.
I am glad to hear you say so, Junius.
I hope ye are dispossest.
Jun.
I hope so too, Sir.
Swet.
Continue so. And Gentlemen, to you now;
To bid you fight is needlesse, ye are Romans,
the name will fight it self; To tell ye who
you go to fight against, his power, and nature,
but losse of time: ye know it, know it poor,
and oft have made it so. To tell ye further,
his Bodie showes more dreadfull then it has done,
to him that fears, lesse possible to deal with,
is but to stick more honour on your Actions,
load ye with vertuous names, and to your memories
tie never dying time, and fortune constant.
Go on in full assurance, draw your swords
as daring and as confident as Justice;
the gods of Rome sight for ye; loud Fame calls ye,
pitch'd on the toplesse Perinine, and blows
to all the under world: all Nations,
the seas, and unfrequented deserts, where the snow dwels,
wakens the ruin'd monuments, and there
where nothing but eternall death and sleep is,
informs again the dead bones. With your vertues,
go on, I say, valiant and wife, rule heaven,
and all the great aspects attend 'em. Do but blow
upon this Enemy, who, but that we want foes,
cannot deserve that name; and like a myst,
a lazie fog, before your burning valours
you'll finde him flie to nothing. This is all,
We have swords, and are the sons of ancient Romans,
heirs to their endlesse valours, fight and conquer.
De., Dem.
'Tis done.
Petill.
That man that loves not this day,
and hugs not in his arms the noble danger,
may he die famelesse and forgot.
Swet.
Sufficient,
up to your Troops, and let your drums beat thunder,
march close, and sudden like a tempest: all executions
March.
done without sparkling of the Body: keep your phalanx
sure lin'd, and piec'd together; your pikes forward,
and so march like a moving Fort: ere this day run,
we shal have ground to add to Rome, wel won.
Exeunt.
Scæna tertia.
Enter Caratach and Nennius.Nen.
The Roman is advanc'd from yound hils brow,
we may behold him, Caratach.
A March.
Drums within at one place afar off.
Car.
Let's thither,
I see the dust flie. Now I see the Body,
observe 'em, Nennius; by—a handsome Body,
and of a few, strongly and wisely joynted:
Swetonius is a Souldier.
Nen.
As I take it,
that's hee that gallops by the Regiments,
viewing their preparations.
Car.
Very likely,
he shews no lesse then Generall: see how bravely
the Body moves, and in the head how proudly
the Captains stick like plumes: hee comes apace on;
good Nennius go, and bid my stout Leutenant
bring on the first square Bodie to oppose 'em,
and as he charges, open to enclose 'em:
the Queen move next with hers, and wheel about,
to gain their backs, in which I'll lead the Vantguard.
We shall have bloody crowns this day, I see by 't;
Haste thee good Nennius, I'll follow instantly.
Exit Nennius.
How close they march, as if they grew together?
March.
How close they march, as if they grew together?
no place but lin'd alike: sure from oppression;
they will not change this figure: we must charge 'em,
and charge 'em home at both ends, Van and Rere,
Drums in another place afar off.
they never totter else. I hear our Musick,
and must attend it: Hold good sword, but this day,
and bite hard where I hound thee, and hereafter
I'll make a relique of thee, for young Souldiers
to come like Pilgrimes to, and kisse for Conquests.
Exit.
Scæna quarta.
Enter Junius, Curius, and Decius.Jun.
Now is the time, the fellow stayes.
Dec.
What think yee?
Cur.
I think 'tis true.
Jun.
Alas, if 'twere a question,
if any doubt or hazzard fell into 't,
do ye think mine own discretion so self-blinde,
my care of you so naked, to run headlong?
Dec.
Let's take Petillius with us.
Jun.
By no means:
hee's never wise but to himself, nor courteous,
but where the end's his own: we are strong enough,
if not too many. Behind yonder hill
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her Mother and her Sister.
Cur.
I would venture.
Jun.
Wee shall not strike five blows for't: weigh the good,
the generall good may come.
Dec.
Away, I'll with ye,
but with what doubt?
Jun.
Fear not, my soul for all.
Exeunt.
Alarms, Drums and Trumpets in severall places afar off, as at a main Battell.
Scæna quinta.
Enter Drusus and Penyus above.Dru.
Here ye may see 'em all, Sir; from this hill
the Country shews off levell.
Pen.
Gods defend me,
what multitudes they are, what infinites?
the Roman power shews like a little Star
hedg'd with a double halloa. Now the knell rings,
Loud Shouts.
Heark how they shout to th'battell; how the air
totters and reels, and rends apieces, Drusus,
with the huge vollied clamours.
Dru.
Now they charge.
oh gods, of all sides, fearfully.
Pen.
Little Rome,
stand but this growing Hydra one short hour,
and thou hast out-done Hercules.
Dru.
The dust hides 'em,
we cannot see what follows.
Pen.
They are gone,
gone, swallow'd, Drusus; this eternall Sun
shall never see 'em march more.
Dru.
O turn this way,
and see a modell of the field, some forty,
against four hundred.
Pen.
Well fought, bravely follow'd;
O nobly charg'd again, charg'd home too: Drusus,
they seem to carry it: now they charge all,
Loud.
close, close, I say; they follow it: ye gods,
Can there be more in men? more daring spirits?
stil they make good their fortunes. Now they are gone too,
for ever gone: see Drusus, at their backs
a fearfull Ambush rises. Farewell valours,
excellent valours: O Rome, Where's thy wisdome?
Dru.
They are gone indeed, Sir.
Pen.
Look out toward the Army,
I am heavie with these slaughters.
Dru.
'Tis the same still,
cover'd with dust and fury.
Enter the two Daughters, with Junius, Curius, Decius, and Souldiers.
2. Daugh.
Bring 'em in,
tie 'em, and then unarm 'em.
1. Daugh.
Valiant Romans,
ye are welcome to your Loves,
2. Daugh.
Your death, fools.
Dec.
We deserve 'em,
and women do your worst.
1. Daug.
Ye need not beg it.
2. Daug.
Which is kinde Junius?
Serv.
This.
2 Dau.
Are you my sweet heart?
It looks ill on't: how long is 't, pretty soul,
since you and I first lov'd? Had we not reason
to doat extreamly upon one another?
How does my Love? this is not he: my chicken
could prate finely, sing a love-song.
Jun.
Monster.
2. Daugh.
Oh, now it courts.
Jun.
Arm'd with more malice
then he that got thee has the divell.
2. Daugh.
Good.
Proceed, sweet Chick.
Jun.
I hate thee, that's my last.
2. Daug.
Nay, and ye love me, forward: No? Come sister,
let's prick our answers on our arrows points,
and make 'em laugh a little. Ye damn'd Leachers,
ye proud improvident fools, have we now caught ye?
are ye ith' noose? Since ye are such loving creatures,
wee'll be your Cupids: Do ye see these arrows?
wee'll send 'em to your wanton livers, goats.
1. Dau.
O how I'll trample on your hearts, ye villains,
ambitious salt-itcht slaves: Romes master sins,
the mountain Rams topt your hot mothers.
2. Daugh.
Dogs,
to whose brave Founders a salt whore gave suck;
theeves, honours hangmen, do ye grin? perdition
take me for ever, if in my fell anger,
Enter Caratach.
I doe not out-doe all example.
Car.
Where,
where are these Ladies? ye keep noble quarter,
your mother thinks ye dead or taken; upon which,
she will not move her Battell. Sure these faces
I have beheld and known, they are Roman Leaders,
How came they here?
2. Daugh.
A trick Sir, that we us'd,
a certain policie conducted 'em
unto our snare: we have done ye no small service;
these us'd as we intend, we are for th'battell.
Car.
As you intend? taken by treachery?
1. Daugh.
Is't not allow'd?
Car.
Those that should gild our Conquest,
make up a Battell worthie of our winning,
catch up by craft?
2. Daugh.
By any means that's lawfull.
Car.
A womans wisdome in our triumphs? Out,
out ye sluts, ye follies; from our swords
filch our revenges basely? Arm again, Gentlemen:
Souldiers, I charge ye help 'em.
2. Daugh.
By—Uncle,
we will have vengeance for our rapes.
Car.
By—
you should have kept your legs close then: dispatch there.
1. Daugh.
I will not off thus.
Car.
He that stirs to execute,
or she, though it be your selves, by him that got me,
shall quickly feel mine anger: one great day given us,
not to be snatch'd out of our hands but basely;
and must we shame the gods from whence we have it,
with setting snares for Souldiers? I'll run away first,
be hooted at, and children call me coward,
before I set up scales for Victories:
Give 'em their swords.
2. Daug.
O gods.
Car.
Bear off the women
unto their Mother.
2. Dau.
One shot, gentle Uncle.
Car.
One cut her siddle-string: Bear 'em off I say.
1. Dau.
The—take this fortune.
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Learn to spin,
and curse your knotted hemp: goe Gentlemen,
Exeunt Daughters.
safely go off, up to your troops: be wiser,
there thank me like tall Souldiers: I shall seek ye.
Exit Caratach.
Cur.
A noble worth.
Dec.
Well Junius.
Jun.
Pray ye no more.
Cur.
He blushes, do not load him.
Dec.
Where's your love now?
Drums loud again.
Jun.
Puffe, there it flies: Come, let's redeem our follies.
Exeunt Junius, Curius, Decius.
Dru.
Awake, Sir; yet the Roman Bodie's whole,
I see 'em cleer again.
Pen.
Whole? 'tis not possible:
Drusus, they must be lost.
Dru.
By—they are whole, Sir,
and in brave doing; see, they wheel about
to gain more ground.
Pen.
But see there Drusus, see,
see that huge Battell moving from the mountains,
their gilt coats shine like Dragons scales, their march
like a rough tumbling storm; see them, and view 'em,
and then see Rome no more: say they faile; look,
look where the armed carts stand; a new Army:
look how they hang like falling rocks, as murdring
death rides in triumph Drusus: fell destruction
lashes his fiery horse, and round about him
his many thousand wayes to let out soules.
Move me again when they charge, when the mountain
melts under their hot wheels, and from their Ax'trees
huge claps of thunder plough the ground before 'em,
till then I'll dream what Rome was.
Enter Swetonius, Petillius, Demetrius, Macer.
Swet.
O bravely fought; honour till now nere show'd
her golden face i'th' field. Like lions, Gentlemen,
y' have held your heads up this day: Where's yong Junius,
Curius, and Decius?
Petill.
Gone to heaven, I think, Sir.
Sw.
Their worths go with 'em: breath a while: How do ye?
Pet.
Wel; some few scurvie wounds, my heart's whole yet.
Dem.
Would they would give us more ground.
Swet.
Give? wee'll have it.
Petill.
Have it? and hold it too, despight the divell.
Enter Junius, Decius, Curius.
Jun.
Lead up to th'head; and line sure: the Qs. Battell
begins to charge like wild-fire: Where's the Generall?
Swet.
Oh, they are living yet. Come, my brave souldiers,
come, let me powr Romes blessing on ye; Live,
live, and lead Armies all: ye bleed hard.
Jun.
Best:
wee shall appear the sterner to the foe.
Dec.
More wounds, more honour.
Petill.
Lose no time.
Swet.
Away then,
and stand this shock, ye have stood the world.
Petill.
Wee'll grow to't.
Is not this better now then lowsie loving?
Jun.
I am my self, Petillius.
Petill.
'Tis I love thee.
Exeunt Romans.
Enter Bonduca, Caratach, Daughters, Nennius.
Car.
Charge 'em i'th' flanks: O ye have plaid the fool,
the fool extremely, the mad fool.
Bon.
Why Cosin?
Car.
The woman fool. Why did you give the word
unto the carts to charge down, and our people
in grosse before the Enemie? we pay for't,
our own swords cut our throats: why?—on't,
Why do you offer to command? the divell,
the divell, and his dam too, who bid you
meddle in mens affairs?
Exeunt Queen, &c.
Bond.
I'll help all.
Car.
Home,
home and spin woman, spin, go spin, ye trifle.
Open before there, or all's ruine. How,
Showts within.
now comes the tempest; on our selves, by—
Victoria within.
O woman, scurvie woman, beastly woman.
Exeunt.
Dru.
Victoria, Victoria.
Pen.
How's that, Drusus?
Dru.
They win, they win, they win; oh look, look, look, Sir,
for heavens sake look, the Britains fly, the Britains fly. Victoria.
Enter Swetonius, Souldiers, and Captains.
Swet.
Soft, soft, pursue it soft; excellent Souldiers,
close, my brave fellows, honourable Romans:
oh cool thy mettle Junius, they are ours,
the world cannot redeem 'em: stern Petillius,
govern the conquest nobly: soft, good Souldiers.
Enter Bonduca, Daughters, and Britains.
Bond.
Shame, whither flie ye, ye unluckie Britains?
Will ye creep into your mothers wombs again? Back cowards,
Hares, fearfull Hares, Doves in your angers; leave me?
leave your Queen desolate? her haplesse children
Enter Caratach and Hengo.
to Roman rape again and fury?
Car.
Flie, ye buzzards,
ye have wings enough, ye fear: get thee gone, woman,
Loud showt within.
shame tread upon thy heels: all's lost, all's lost, heark,
heark how the Romans ring our knels.
Ext. Bond. &c.
Hen.
Good Uncle,
let me go too.
Car.
No boy, thy fortune's mine,
I must not leave thee; get behind me; shake not,
Enter Petillius, Junius, Decius.
I'll breech ye, if ye do boy: Come, brave Romans,
all is not lost yet.
Jun.
Now I'll thank thee, Caratach.
Fight. Drums.
Car.
Thou art a Souldier: strike home, home; have at ye.
Pen.
His blows fall like huge sledges on an anvil.
Dec.
I am weary.
Pet.
So am I.
Car.
Send more swords to me.
Jun.
Let's sit and rest.
Sit down.
Dru.
What think ye now?
Pen.
O Drusus,
I have lost mine honour, lost my name,
lost all that was my light: these are true Romans,
and I a Britain coward, a base coward;
guide me where nothing is but desolation,
that I may never more behold the face
of man, or mankind know me: O blind Fortune,
hast thou abus'd me thus?
Dru.
Good Sir, be comforted;
it was your wisdome rul'd ye; pray ye go home,
your day is yet to come, when this great fortune
shall be but foile unto it.
Retreat.
Pen.
Fool, fool, Coward.
Exit Penyus & Drusus.
Enter Swetonius, Demetrius, Souldiers, Drum and Colours. Swet.
61
Draw in, draw in: wel have ye fought, and worthie
Romes noble recompence; look to your wounds,
the ground is cold and hurtfull: the proud Queen
has got a Fort, and there she and her Daughters
defie us once again. To morrow morning
wee'll seek her out, and make her know, our Fortunes
stop at no stubborn walls: Come, sons of honour,
true vertues heirs; thus hatch'd with Britain blood,
let's us march to rest, and set in gules like Suns.
Beat a soft march, and each one ease his neighbours.
Exeunt.
| The Tragedie of Bonduca | |