University of Virginia Library

Scena 3.

Enter Uenusius, Constantine, and Lord Morgan, with Souldiours in Armes.
Uenu.
Thus, noble Lords, Venusius armed comes,
In loue to Wales, and that much wronged Prince,
Who now at Yorke, liues priuate from his foes,
From whence we now will call him, and awake
His ancient courage, that long time hath slept,
Vpon the downy pillowes of repose.
Good Angels, guide vs: this our latest strife
Shall set a period to our death or life.

Const.
Me thinks, right noble Lord, yet I presage
The horror of this battell we intend,
Will cost a masse of bloud; nor doe I stand
Firmely resolu'd: and the least sparke of valour
Turnes to a Flame of Magnanimity.
Oh, were my brother Caradoc but here,
Our minds were made inuincible, all our thoughts
Were fixt on warlike Musicke, or any thing
Beyond a common venter. And see, in time
Our princely brother, and our sister comes.
Enter Gald, Bluso, and Voada.
Welcome, deare brother, how escapte you danger,
And purchast such a happy liberty?

Gald.
All that I haue, I freely doe ascribe
Vnto this learned man, whose secret Arte,
Beyond the strayne of deepe Philosophy,
Or any naturall science vnder heauen,
Possest me of this Iewell of my soule,
And through the Romane hoste inuisible,
Conuayde vs both safe, as you see we are.

Morgan.

Harke you me, you remember our Cousin Caradoc
and Morgan, do you not? Giue me your hands. Be Cad,
I shall loue the Teuill, til breath's in her pody, for this tricke.
Be Cad, he hath done more good then any Iustice of Peace
this seuen yeres, for all her stocks and whipping posts. Harke
you me now.

Const.
Harke, harke, the Romanes march to vs with speed.
Now Royall Princes, thinke on our vilde disgrace,
Their Treasons, falshoods, and conspiracies;
And double resolution whet your rage.
Oh Caradoc, there's nothing wants but thee,
And now too late to buckle on thy Armes.
If in this bloudy skirmish I suruiue,
Triumphs shall crown the glorious brow of Wales.
Bastard, begot at the backe dore of nature,
Cornewall the author of these bleeding wounds,
That many a wretch shall suffer for their wrongs.
Behold, we come arm'd with a triple rage,
To scourge your base indignities with steele.
Noble Prince Gald, here in our brothers stead,
Conduct our Army foorth as Generall.
Romanes, come on, your pride must catch a fall.