University of Virginia Library

Actus Quintus.

Scæna Prima.

Enter Caratach upon a rock, and Hengo by him, sleeping.
Car.
Thus we afflicted Britains climb for safeties,
and to avoid our dangers, seek destructions;
thus we awake to sorrows. O thou woman,
thou agent for adversities, what curses
this day belong to thy improvidence?
to Britanie by thy means, what sad millions
of widows weeping eyes? The strong mans valour
thou hast betraid to fury; the childes fortune
to fear, and want of friends: whose pieties
might wipe his mournings off, and build his sorrows
a house of rest by his blest ancestors:
the virgins thou hast rob'd of all their wishes,
blasted their blowing hopes, turn'd their songs,
their mirthful Marriage songs to Funerals,
the Land thou hast left a wildernesse of wretches.
The boy begins to stir: thy safety made,
would my soul were in heaven.

Heng.
O noble Uncle,
look out; I dream'd we were betraid.

a soft dead march within.
Car.
No harm, boy;
't is but thy emptinesse that breeds these fancies;
thou shalt have meat anon.

Heng.
A little, Uncle,
and I shall hold out bravely. What are those?
look, Uncle, look, those multitudes that march there?
they come upon us stealing by.

Car.
I see 'em;
and prethee be not fearful.

Heng.
Now ye hate me,
would I were dead.

Car.
Thou know'st I love thee dearly.

Heng.
Did I ere shrink yet, Uncle? were I a man now,
I should be angry with ye.

Enter Drusus, Regulus, and Souldiers, with Penyus Herse, Drums and Colours.
Car.
My sweet chicken,
see, they have reach'd us, and as it seems they bear
some Souldiers body, by their solemn gestures,
and sad solemnities; it well appears too
to be of eminence. Most worthy Souldiers,
let me intreat your knowledge to inform me
what noble body that is which you bear
with such a sad and ceremonious grief,
as if ye meant to woo the world and nature
to be in love with death? Most honourable
excellent Romanes, by your ancient valours,
as ye love fame, resolve me.

Sould.
'T is the body
of the great Captain Penyus, by himself
made cold and spiritlesse.

Car.
O stay, ye Romanes,
by the religion which you owe those gods
that lead ye on to Victories, by those glories
which made even pride a vertue in ye.

Dru.
Stay:
what 's thy will, Caratach?

Car.
Set down the body,
the body of the noblest of all Romanes,
as ye expect an offering at your graves
from your friends sorrows, set it down a while,
that with your griefs an enemy may mingle;
a noble enemy that loves a Souldier;
and lend a tear to vertue: even your foes,
your wild foes, as you call'd us, are yet stor'd
with fair affections, our hearts fresh, our spirits,
though sometimes stubborn, yet when vertue dies,
soft and relenting as a virgins prayers.
O set it down.

Dru.
Set down the body, souldiers.

Car.
Set down the body, souldiers.

Car.
Thou hallowed relique, thou rich diamond
cut with thine own dust; thou for whose wide fame
the world appears too narrow, mans all thoughts,
had they all tongues, too silent; thus I bow
to thy most honour'd ashes; though an enemy,
yet friend to all thy worths: sleep peaceably;
happinesse crown thy soul, and in thy earth
some Lawrel fix his seat, there grow, and flourish,
and make thy grave an everlasting triumph.
Fare well all glorious Wars, now thou art gone,
and honest Arms adieu: all noble Battels
maintain'd in thirst of honour, not of blood,
fare well for ever.

Heng.
Was this Romane, Uncle,
so good a man?

Car.
Thou never knew'st thy father.

Heng.
He di'd before I was born.

Car.
This worthy Romane
was such another piece of endlesse honour,
such a brave soul dwelt in him: their proportions
and faces were not much unlike, boy: excellent natures,
see how it works into his eyes, mine own boy.

Heng.
The multitudes of these men, and their fortunes,
could never make me fear yet: one mans goodnesse—

Car.
O now thou pleasest me: weep still, my childe,
as if thou saw'st me dead; with such a flux
or flood of sorrow: still thou pleasest me.
And worthy souldiers, pray receive these pledges,
these hatchments of our griefs, and grace us so much
to place 'em on his Hearse. Now if ye please,
bear off the noble burden; raise his pile
high as Olympus, making heaven to wonder
to see a star upon earth outshining theirs.
And ever loved, ever living be
thy honoured and most sacred memory.

Dru.
Thou hast done honestly, good Caratach,
and when thou'd lest, a thousand vertuous Romanes
shall sing thy soul to heaven. Now march on, souldiers.

Exeunt. A dead march.
Car.
Now dry thine eyes, my boy.

Heng.
Are they all gone?
I could have wept this hour yet.

Car.
Come, take cheer,
and raise thy spirit, childe: if but this day
thou canst bear out thy faintnesse, the night coming
I'll fashion our escape.

Heng.
Pray fear not me;
indeed I am very heartie.

Car.
Be so still;
his mischiefs lessen, that controls his ill.

Exeunt.

Scæna secunda.

Enter Petillius.
Petill.
What do I ail, i'th' name of heaven? I did but see her,
and see her die: she stinks by this time strongly,
abominably stinks: she was a woman,
a thing I never car'd for: but to die so,
so confidently, bravely, strongly; O the devil,
I have the bots, by—;she scorn'd us, strangely,
all we could do, or durst do; threatned us
with such a noble anger, and so governed
with such a fiery spirit—; the plain bots;
a—upon the bots, the love-bots: hang me,
hang me even out o'th' way, directly hang me.
O pennie pipers, and most painful penners
of bountiful new ballads, what a subject,
what a sweet subject for your silver sounds,
is crept upon ye?

Enter Junius.
Jun.
Here he is; have at him.
Sings.

Petill.
Well, gramercie, how dost thou? h' as found me,
sented me out: the shame the devil ow'd me,
h' as kept his day with. And what news, Junius?

Jun.
It was an old tale ten thousand times told,
of a young Lady was turn'd into mold,
her life was lovely, her death it was bold.

Petill.
A cruel rogue; now h' as drawn pursue on me,
he hunts me like a devil. No more singing;
thou hast got a cold: come, let's go drink some Sack, boy.

Jun.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Petill.
Why dost thou laugh?
what Mares nest hast thou found?

Jun.
Ha, ha, ha.
I cannot laugh alone: Decius, Demetrius,
Curius: O my sides. Ha, ha, ha, ha,
the strangest jest.

Petill.
Prethee no more.

Jun.
The admirablest fooling.

Petill.
Thou art the prettiest fellow.

Jun.
Sirs.

Petill.
Why Junius,
prethee away, sweet Junius.

Jun.
Let me sing then.

Petill.
Whoa, here's a stir now: sing a song o'six pence,
by—(if) prethee;—on't: Junius.

Jun.
I must either sing, or laugh.

Petill.
And what's your reason?

Jun.
What's that to you?

Petill.
And I must whistle.

Jun.
Do so.
O, I hear 'em coming.

Petill.
I have a little businesse.

Jun.
Thou shalt not go, believe it: what a Gentleman
of thy sweet conversation?

Petill.
Captain Junius,
sweet Captain, let me go with all celerity;
things are not always one: and do not question,
nor jeer, nor gybe: none of your doleful ditties,
nor your sweet conversation: you will finde then
I may be anger'd.

Jun.
By no means, Petillius;
anger a man that never knew passion?
'tis most impossible: a noble Captain,
a wise and generous Gentleman?

Pet.
Tom puppie,
leave this way to abuse me: I have found ye,
but for your mothers sake I will forgive ye.
Your subtil understanding may discover
(as you think) some trim toy to make you merry;
some straw to tickle ye; but do not trust to't;
y' are a young man, and may do well; be sober;
carry your self discreetly.

Enter Decius, Demetrius, Curius.
Jun.
Yes forsooth.

Dem.
How does the brave Petillius?

Jun.
Monstrous merry:
we two were talking what a kinde of thing
I was when I was in love; what a strange monster
for little boys and girls to wonder at;
how like a fool I lookt.

Dec.
So they do all,
like great dull slavering fools.

Jun.
Petillius saw too.

Pet.
No more of this; 'tis scurvie: peace.

Jun.
How nastily,
indeed how beastly all I did became me?
how I forgot to blow my nose? there he stands,
an honest and a wise man; if himself
(I dare a vouch it boldly, for I know it)
should finde himself in love—

Petill.
I am angry.

Jun.
Surely his wise self would hang his beastly self,
his understanding self so mawl his asse-self—

Dec.
He's bound to do it; for he knows the follies,
the poverties, and basenesse that belongs to't,
h' as read upon the reformations long.

Petill.
He has so.

Jun.
'T is true, and he must do't:
nor is it fit indeed any such coward—

Petill.
You'll leave prating.

Jun.
Should dare come neer the Regiments, specially
those curious puppies (for believe there are such)
that onely love behaviours: those are dog-whelps,
dwindle away, because a woman dies well;
commit with passions onely: fornicate
with the free spirit meerly: you, Petillius,
for you have long observ'd the world.

Petill.
Dost thou hear?
I'll beat thee damnably within these three hours:
go pray; may be I'll kill thee. Farewel, Jack daws.

Exit.
Dec.
What a strange thing he's grown?

Jun.
I am glad he is so:
and stranger he shall be, before I leave him.

Cur.
Is't possible her meer death—

Jun.
I observ'd him,
and found him taken, infinitely taken
with her bravery: I have follow'd him,
and seen him kisse his sword since, court his scabbard,
call dying, dainty deer; her brave minde, mistris;
casting a thousand ways, to give those forms,
that he might lie with 'em, and get old Armors:
he had got me o'th' hip once: it shall go hard, friends,
but he shall find his own coin.

Enter Macer.
Dec.
How now Macer?
is Judas yet come in?

Enter Judas.
Mac.
Yes, and has lost
most of his men too. Here he is.

Cur.
What news?

Jud.
I have lodg'd him; rouze him he that dares.

Dem.
Where, Judas?

Jud.
On a steep rock, i'th' woods, the boy too with him,
and there he swears he will keep his Christmas, Gentlemen,
but he will come away with full conditions,
bravely, and like a Britain: he paid part of us,
yet I think we fought bravely: for mine own part,
I was four several times at half sword with him,
twice stood his partizan: but the plain truth is,
he 's a meer devil, and no man: i'th' end he swing'd us,
and swing'd us soundly too: he fights by With-craft:
yet for all that I see him lodg'd,

Jun.
Take more men,
and scout him round. Macer, march you along.
What victuals has he?

Jud.
Not a piece of Bisket,
not so much as will stop a tooth; nor water,
more then they make themselves: they lie
just like a brace of bear-whelps, close, and crafty,
sucking their fingers for their food.

Dec.
Cut off then
all hope of that way: take sufficient forces.

Jun.
But use no foul play, on your lives: that man
that does him mischief by deceit, I'll kill him.

Macer.
He shall have fair play, he deserves it.

Jud.
Heark ye,
what should I do there then? you are brave Captains,
most valiant men; go up your selves; use vertue,
see what will come on't: pray the Gentleman
to come down, and be taken. Ye all know him,
I think ye have felt him too: there ye shall finde him,
his sword by his side, plums of a pound weight by him
will make your chops ake: you'll finde it a more labour
to win him living, then climbing of a Crowes nest.

Dec.
Away, and compasse him; we shall come up
I am sure within these two hours. Watch him close.

Macer.
He shall flee thorow the air, if he escape us.

A sad noise within.
Jun.
What's this loud lamentation?

Mac.
The dead body
of the great Penyus is new come to th'Camp Sir.

Dem.
Dead!

Macer.
By himself, they say.

Jun.
I fear'd that fortune.

Cur.
Peace guide him up to heaven.

Jun.
Away good Macer.

Exeunt Macer and Judas.
Enter Swetonius, Drusus, Regulus, Petillius.
Swet.
If thou be'st guilty,
some sullen plague thou hat'st most light upon thee:
the Regiment return on Junius,
hee well deserves it.

Petill.
So.

Swet.
Draw out three Companies,
yours Decius, Junius, and thou Petillius,
and make up instantly to Caratach,
he's in the wood before ye; we shall follow
after due ceremony done to the dead,
the noble dead: Come, let's go burn the body.

Exeunt all but Petillius.
Petill.
The Regiment given from me; disgrac'd openly;
in love too with a trifle to abuse me?
A merry world, a fine world: serv'd seven yeers
to be an asle o' both sides, sweet Petillius,
you have brought your hogs to a fine market: you are wise, Sir,
your honourable brain-pan full of crotchets,
an understanding Gentleman; your projects
cast with assurance ever: wouldst not thou now
be bang'd about the pate, Petillius?
answer to that sweet souldier; surely, surely,
I think ye would; pull'd by the nose, kick'd; hang thee,
thou art the arrant'st rascall: trust thy wisdome
with any thing of weight; the winde with feathers.
Out ye blind puppie; you command? you govern?
dig for a groat a day, or serve a swine-herd;
too noble for thy nature too. I must up;
but what I shall do there, let time discover.

Exit.

Scæna tertia.

Enter Macer and Judas, with meat and a bottle.
Mac.
Hang it o'th' side o'th' rock, as though the Britains
stole hither to relieve him; who first ventures
to fetch it off, is ours. I cannot see him.

Jud.
He lies close in a hole above, I know it,
gnawing upon his anger: ha? no, 'tis not he,

Macer.
'Tis but the shaking of the boughs.

Jud.
—shake 'em,
I am sure they shake me soundly. There.

Macer.
'Tis nothing.

Jud.
Make no noise: if he stir, a deadly tempest
of huge stones fall upon us: 'tis done: away close.

Ext.
Enter Caratach.
Car.
Sleep stil, sleep sweetly child, 'tis all thou feedst on.
No gentle Britain neer; no valiant charitie
to bring thee food? poor knave, thou art sick, extreme sick,
almost grown wild for meat; and yet thy goodnesse
will not confesse, nor show it. All the woods
are double lin'd with souldiers; no way left us
to make a noble scape: I'll sit down by thee,
and when thou wak'st, either get meat to save thee,
or lose my life i'th' purchase. Good gods comfort thee.

Enter Junius, Decius, Petillius, Guide.
Guide.
Ye are not far off now, Sir.

Jun.
Draw the Companies
the closest way thorow the woods; we'll keep on this way.

Guide.
I will Sir: half a furlong more you'll come
within the sight o'th' Rock; keep on the left side,
you'll be discovered else: I'll lodge your Companies
in the wilde vines beyond ye.

Dec.
Do ye mark him?

Jun.
Yes, and am sorry for him.

Petill.
Junius,
pray let me speak two words with you.

Jun.
Walk afore,
I'll overtake ye straight.

Dec.
I will.

Exit.
Jun.
Now, Captain.

Petill.
You have oft told me, you have lov'd me, Junius.

Jun.
Most sure I told you truth then.

Petill.
And that love
should not deny me any honest thing.

Jun.
It shall not.

Petill.
Dare ye swear it?
I have forgot all passages between us
that have been ill, forgiven too, forgot you.

Jun.
What would this man have? By—I do, Sir,
so it be fit to grant ye.

Petill.
'Tis most honest.

Jun.
Why, then I'll do it.

Petill.
Kill mee.

Jun.
How?

Petill.
Pray kill me.

Jun.
Kill ye?

Pet.
I, kill me quickly, suddenly,
now kill me.

Jun.
On what reason? ye amaze me.

Pet.
If ye do love me, kill me, ask me not why:
I would be kill'd, and by you.

Jun.
Mercy on me,
What ails this man? Petillius.

Petill.
Pray ye dispatch me,
ye are not safe whilest I live: I am dangerous,
troubled extremely, even to mischief, Junius,
an enemie to all good men: fear not, 'tis justice;
I shall kill you else.

Jun.
Tell me but the cause,
and I will do it.

Petill.
I am disgrac'd, my service
slighted, and unrewarded by the Generall,
my hopes left wilde and naked; besides these,
I am grown ridiculous, an asse, a folly
I dare not trust my self with: Prethee kill me.

Jun.
All these may be redeem'd as easily
as you would heal your finger.

Petill.
Nay—

Jun.
Stay, I'll do it,
you shall not need your anger: But first, Petillius,
you shall unarm your self; I dare not trust
a man so bent to mischief.

Petill.
There's my sword;
and do it handsomely.

Jun.
yes, I will kill ye,
beleeve that certaine: but first i'll lay before ye
the most extreme fool ye have plaid in this,
the honour purpos'd for ye, the great honour
the Generall intended ye,

Petill.
How?

Jun.
And then I'll kill ye,
because ye shall die miserable. Know Sir,
the Regiment was given me, but till time
call'd ye to do some worthie deed might stop
the people ill thoughts of ye for Lord Penyus,
I mean his death. How soon this time's come to ye,
and hasted by Swetonius? Go, saves he,
Junius and Decius, and go thou Petillius;
distinctly, thou Petillius, and draw up,
to take stout Caratach: there's the deed purpos'd,
a deed to take off all faults, of all natures:
And thou Petillius; Mark it, there's the honour,
and that done, all made even.

Petill.
Stay.

Jun.
No, I'll kill ye.
He knew thee absolute, and full in souldier,
daring beyond all dangers, found thee out
according to the boldnesse of thy spirit,
a subject, such a subject.

Petill.
Heark ye Junius,
I will live now.

Jun.
By no means. Wooed thy worth,
held thee by the chin up, as thou sankst, and shew'd thee
how honour held her arms out: Come, make ready,
since ye will die an asse.

Petill.
Thou wilt not kill me.

Jun.
By—but I will Sir: I'll have no man dangerous
live to destroy me afterward. Besides, you have gotten
honour enough, let young men rise now. Nay,
I do perceive too by the Generall, (which is
one main cause ye shall die) how ere he carry it,
such a strong doting on ye, that I fear,
you shall command in chief: how are we paid then?
Come, if you will pray, dispatch it.

Petill.
Is there no way?

Jun.
Not any way to live.

Petill.
I will do any thing,
redeem my self at any price: good Junius,
let me but die upon the Rock, but offer
my life up like a Souldier.

Jun.
You will seek then
to out-doe every man.

Petill.
Beleeve it Junius,
you shall goe stroak by stroak with me.

Jun.
You'll leave off too,
as you are noble, and a souldier,
for ever these mad fancies.

Petill.
Dare ye trust me?
By all that's good and honest.

Jun.
There's your sword then,
and now come on a new man: Vertue guide thee.

Exeunt.
Enter Caratach and Hengo on the Rock.
Car.
Courage my Boy, I have found meat: look Hengo,
look where some blessed Britain, to preserve thee,
has hung a little food and drink: cheer up Boy,
do not forsake me now.

Hengo.
O Uncle, Uncle,
I feel I cannot stay long: yet I'll fetch it,
to keep your noble life: Uncle, I am heart whole,
and would live.

Car.
Thou shalt, long I hope.

Hen.
But my head, Uncle:
me thinks the Rock goes round.

Enter Macer & Jud.
Macer.
Mark 'em well, Judas.

Jud.
Peace, as you love your life.

Hen.
Do not your hear
the noise of bels?

Car.
of bels Boy? 'tis thy fancie,
alas, thy bodie's full of wind.

Hengo.
me thinks Sir,
they ring a strange sad knell, a preparation
to some neer funerall of State: nay, weep not,
mine owne sweet Uncle, you will kill me sooner.

Car.
O my poor chicken.

Hen.
Fie, faint-hearted Uncle:
Come, tie me in your belt, and let me down.

Car.
I'll go my self, Boy.

Hengo.
No, as ye love mee, Uncle;
I will not eat it, if I doe not fetch it;
the danger onely I desire: pray tie me.

Car.
I will, and all my care hang ore thee: come child,
my valiant-child.

Hengo.
Let me down apace, Uncle,
and ye shall see how like a Daw I'll whip it
from all their policies: for 'tis most certain
a Roman train: and ye must hold me sure too,
you'll spoil all else. When I have brought it Uncle,
wee'll be as merry—

Car.
Go i'th' name of heaven Boy.

Hengo.
Quick, quick, Uncle, I have it. Oh.

Judas shoots Hengo.
Car.
What ailest thou?

Hengo.
O my best Uncle, I am slain.

Car.
I see yee, and heaven direct my hand: destruction
Caratach kils Judas with a stone from the Rock.
go with thy coward soul. How dost thou Boy?
Oh villain, pocky villain.

Hengo.
O Uncle, Uncle,
oh how it pricks mee: am I preserv'd for this?
extremely pricks me.

Car.
Coward, rascall Coward,
dogs eat thy flesh.

Hen.
Oh I bleed hard: I faint too, out upon't,
how sick I am? the lean Rogue, Uncle.

Car.
Look Boy,
I have laid him sure enough.

Hengo.
Have ye knockt his brains out?

Car.
I warrant thee for stirring more: cheer up, child.

Hen.
Hold my sides hard, stop, stop, oh wretched fortune,
must we part thus? Still I grow sicker, Uncle.

Car.
Heaven look upon this noble child.

Hengo.
I once hop'd
I should have liv'd to have met these bloody Romans
at my swords point, to have reveng'd my father,
to have beaten 'em: oh hold me hard. But Uncle—

Car.
Thou shalt live still I hope Boy. Shall I draw it?

Hen.
Ye draw away my soul then. I would live
a little longer; spare me heavens, but onely
to thank you for your tender love. Good Uncle,
good noble Uncle weep not.

Car.
Oh my chicken,
my deer Boy, what shall I lose?

Hengo.
Why, a child,
that must have died how-ever: had this scap'd me,
feaver or famine: I was born to die, Sir.

Car.
But thus unblown, my Boy?

Heng.
I goe the straighter
my journey to the gods: Sure I shall know ye
when ye come, Uncle.

Car.
Yes, Boy.

Hen.
And I hope
wee shall enjoy together that great blessednesse
you told me of.

Car.
Most certain, child.

Hengo.
I grow cold,
mine eyes are going.

Car.
Lift 'em up.

Hengo.
Pray for me;
and noble Uncle, when my bones are ashes,
think of your little Nephew. Mercie.

Car.
Mercie.
You blessed angels take him.

Hengo.
Kisse me: so.
Farewell, farewell.

Dies.
Car.
Farewell the hopes of Britain,
thou Royall graft, Farewell for ever. Time and Death,
ye have done your worst. Fortune now see, now proudly
pluck off thy vail, and view thy triumph: Look,
look what thou hast brought this Land to. Oh fair flower,
how lovely yet thy ruines show, how sweetly
even death embraces thee! The peace of heaven,
the fellowship of all great souls be with thee.
Enter Petillius & Junius on the rock.
Hah? dare ye Romans? ye shall win me bravely.
Thou art mine.

Fight.
Jun.
Not yet, Sir.

Car.
Breathe ye, ye poor Romans,
and come up all, with all your ancient valours,
like a rough winde I'll shake your souls, and send 'em—

Enter Swetonius, and all the Roman Captains.
Swet.
Yeeld thee bold Caratach; by all—
as I am souldier, as I envie thee,
I'll use thee like thy self, the valiant Britain.

Pet.
Brave soldier yeeld; thou stock of Arms and Honor,
thou filler of the world with fame and glory.

Jun.
Most worthy man, we'l woo thee, be thy prisoners.

Swet.
Excellent Britain, do me but that honour,
that more to me then Conquests, that true happinesse,
to be my friend.

Car.
O Romans, see what here is:
had this Boy liv'd—

Swet.
For Fames sake, for thy Swords sake,
as thou desirest to build thy vertues greater:
by all that's excellent in man, and honest—

Car.
I do beleeve: Ye have had me a brave foe;
make me a noble friend, and from your goodnesse,
give this Boy honourable earth to lie in.

Swet.
He shall have fitting Funerall.

Car.
I yeeld then,
not to your blowes, but your brave courtesies.

Petill.
Thus we conduct then to the arms of Peace
the wonder of the world.

Swet.
Thus I embrace thee,
Flourish.
and let it be no flattery that I tell thee,
thou art the onely Souldier.

Car.
How to thank ye
I must hereafter finde upon your usage.
I am for Rome?

Swet.
Ye must.

Car.
Then Rome shall know
the man that makes her spring of glory grow.

Swet.
Petillius, you have shown much worth this day, redeem'd much errour,
ye have my love again, preserve it. Junius,
with you I make him equall in the Regiment.

Jun.
The elder and the nobler: I'll give place, Sir.

Swet.
Ye shew a friends soul.
March on, and through the Camp in every tongue.
the Vertues of great Caratach be sung.

Exeunt.