 | The Tragedie of Bonduca |  |
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.
60
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 | |