University of Virginia Library

Scena 5.

Enter first the Pretorian bands armed; they stand in rowes: then enter Mauron, Guiniuer, her daughter Helena, and Caradoc bound: they passe ouer the Stage. Then enter Cesar, the Empresse, with the Senate.
Cesar.
Novv famous Rome, that lately lay obscurde
In the darke cloudes of Bryttish infamy,
Appeares victorious in her conquering Robes,
And like the Sunne, that in the midst of heauen
Reflects more glory on the teeming earth:
So fares it with triumphant Rome this day.
Bring forth these Bryttish Captiues: Let them kneele
For mercy, and submit to Cesars doome.

Enter Mauron, Guiniuer, her daughter, and Caradoc: They all bend their knees to Cesar, except Caradoc.
Cesar.
What's he that scornes to bow, when Cesar bids?

Cara.
Cesar, a man, that scornes to bow to Ioue,
Were he a man like Cesar: such a man,
That neither cares for life, nor feares to die.
I vvas not borne to kneele, but to the Gods,
Nor basely bovv vnto a lumpe of clay.
In adoration of a clod of earth.
Were Cesar Lord of all the spacious vvorld,
Euen from the Articke, to the Antarticke poles,
And but a man; in spite of death and him,
Ide keepe my legs vpright, honour should stand
Fixt as the Center, at no Kings commaund.
Thou mayest as well inforce the foming surge
Of high-swolne Neptune, with a word retire,
And leaue his flowing tide, as make me bow.
Thinks Cesar, that this petty misery
Of seruill bonds, can make true honour stoope?
No, tis inough for Sicophants and slaues,
To crouch to Tyrants, that feare their graues.
I was not borne when flattery begd land,
And eate whole Lordships vp with making legs.
Let it suffice: were Cesar thrice as great,
Ide neyther bow to Rome, him nor his seate.

Cesar.
So braue a Bryttaine hath not Cesar heard.
But soft; I am deceyued, but I behold
The golden Lyon hang about his necke,
That I deliuered to a valiant Souldiour,
That ransomlesse releast me of my bonds.
Great spirit (for thy tongue bewrayes no lesse)
If Cesar may intreat thee, kindly tell,
Where, or from whom hadst thou that golden lyon,
That hangs about thy necke?

Car.
From Cesar, or from such anotherman,
That seem'd no lesse in power then Cesar is,
Whom I tooke captiue, (and so Cesar was)
And ransomlesse sent backe vnto his Tents.
Then, if in all he like to Cesar be,
Cesar, I am deceyu'd, but thou art he.

Ce.
But he that tooke me, was a common souldier.

Car.
No, Cesar: but disguis'd I left my troupes,
Being forbidden by the Bryttish King,
To fight at all, and rusht into the hoste,
Where, from thy hands I tooke this golden Lyon.

Ces.
Thy words confirme the truth. For this braue deed,
And kind courtesie shewed to Cesar in extremes,
We freely giue you all your liberties,
And honourably will returne you home
With euerlasting peace and vnity.
And this shall Cesar speake vnto thy Fame,
The valiant Welshman merits honours name.

Flourish. Exeunt.
Enter Bardh.
Bardh.
Time cuts off our valiant Welshmans worth,
When longer Sceanes more amply night haue showne;
But that the Story's tedious to rehearse,
And we in danger of impatient cares,
Which too long repetition might beget.
Here leaue we him with Cesar full of mirth:
And now of you old Bardh intreates to tell,
In good or ill, our Story doth excell.
If ill, then goe I to my silent Tombe,
And in my shrowde sleepe in the quiet earth,
That did intend to giue a second birth.
But if it please, then Bardh shall tune his strayne,
To sing this Welshman prayses once againe,
Bells are the dead mans musicke: ere I goe,
Your Clappers sound will tell me I, or no.

Exit.