University of Virginia Library

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
take pitie from our swords, doubt from our valours,
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.