University of Virginia Library

Scæna Prima.

Enter Penyus, Regulus, Macer, Drusius.
Pen.
I must come?

Ma.
So the General commands, Sir.

Pen.
I must bring up my Regiment?

Ma.
Believe, Sir,
I bring no lye.

Pen.
But did he say, I must come?

Ma.
So delivered.

Pen.
How long is't, Regulus, since I commanded
in Britain here?

Reg.
About five yeers, great Penyus.

Pen.
The General some five months. Are all my actions
so poor, and lost, my services so barren,
that I'm remembred in no nobler language
but Must come up?

Ma.
I do beseech ye, Sir,
weigh but the times estate.

Pen.
Yes, good Lievtenant,
I do, and his that sways it. Must come up?
Am I turn'd bare Centurion? Must, and shall,
fit embasses to court my honour?

Ma.
Sir—

Pen.
Set me to lead a handful of my men
against an hundred thousand barbarous slaves
that have marcht name by name with Romes best doers?
serve 'em up some other meat; I'll bring no food
to stop the jaws of all those hungry wolfs.
My Regiment's mine own. I must, my language.

Enter Curius.
Cur.
Penyus, where lies the host?

Pen.
Where Fate may finde 'em.

Cur.
Are they ingirt?

Pen.
The Battel's lost.

Cur.
So soon?

Pen.
No; but 't is lost, because it must be won:
the Britains must be Victors. Who ere saw
a troop of bloody Vultures hovering
about a few corrupted carcases,
let him behold the silly Romane host,
girded with millions of fierce Britain Swains,
with deaths as many as they have had hopes;
and then go thither, he that loves his shame;
I scorn my life, yet dare not lose my name.

Cur.
Do not you hold it a most famous end,
when both our names and lives are sacrific'd
for Romes encrease?

Pen.
Yes, Curius; but mark this too;
what glory is there, of what lasting fame
can be to Rome, or us? what full example,
when one is smother'd with a multitude,
and crowded in amongst a namelesse presse?
Honour got out of flint, and on their heads
whose vertues, like the Sun, exhal'd all valours,
must not be lost in mists and fogs of people,
notelesse, and out of name, but rude and naked:
nor can Rome task us with impossibilities,
or bid us fight against a flood: we serve her,
that she may proudly say she has good souldiers,
nor slaves to choke all hazards. Who but fools,
that make no difference betwixt certain dying,
and dying well, would fling their fames and fortunes
into this Britain-gulf, this quicksand-ruine,
that sinking, swallows us? What noble hand
can finde a subject fit for blood there? or what sword
room for his execution? What air to cool us,
but poison'd with their blasting breaths and curses,
where we lie buried quick above the ground,
and are with labouring sweat, and breathlesse pain,
kill'd like to slaves, and cannot kill again?

Dru.
Penyus, mark ancient Wars, and know that then
Captains weigh'd an hundred thousand men.

Pen.
Drusius, mark ancient wisdom, and you'll finde then
he gave the overthrow that sav'd his men.
I must not go.

Reg.
The souldiers are desirous,
Their Eagles all drawn out, Sir.

Pen.
Who drew up, Regulus?
ha? speak t did you? whose bold will durst attempt this?
drawn out? why, who commands, Sir? on whose warrant
durst they advance?

Reg.
I keep mine own obedience.

Dru.
'T is like the general cause, their love of honour,
relieving of their wants.

Pen.
Without my knowledge?
am I no more? my place but at their pleasures?
Come, who did this?

Dru.
By—Sir, I am ignorant.

Drum softly within: then enter Souldiers with Drum and Colours.
Pen.
What, am I grown a shadow? Heark, they march.
I will know, and will be my self. Stand, disobedience;
he that advances one foot higher, dies for't.
Run thorow the Regiment upon your duties,
and charge 'em on command: beat back again,
by—I'll tith'em all else.

Reg.
We'll do our best.

Exeunt Drusius and Regulus.
Pen.
Back; cease your bawling Drums there,
I'll beat the Tubs about your brains else. Back:
do I speak with lesse fear then Thunder to ye?
must I stand to beseech ye? home, home: ha?
do ye stare upon me? Are those mindes I moulded,
those honest valiant tempers I was proud
to be a fellow to, those great discretions
made your names fear'd and honour'd, turn'd to wildfires?
O gods, to disobedience? Command, farewel;
and be ye witnesse with me, all things sacred,
I have no share in these mens shames. March, Souldiers,
and seek your own sad ruines; your old Penyus
dares not behold your murders.

Sould.
Captain.

2 Sould.
Captain.

3 Sould.
Dear honour'd Captaine

Pen.
Too too dear lov'd Souldiers,
which made ye weary of me: and heaven yet knows,
though in your mutinies, I dare not hate you;
Take your own wills; 't is fit your long experience
should now know how to rule your selves: I wrong ye,
in wishing ye to save your lives and credits,
to keep your necks whole from the Ax hangs ore ye:
alas, I much dishonour'd ye: go, seek the Britains,
and say ye come to glut their Sacrifices;
but do not say I sent ye. What ye have been,
how excellent in all parts, good, and govern'd,
is onely left of my Command, for story;
what now ye are, for pitie. Fare ye well.

Enter Drusius and Regulus.
Dru.
Oh turn again, great Penyus; see the Souldier
in all points apt for duty.

Reg.
See his sorrow
for his disobedience, which he says was haste,
and haste (he thought) to please you with. See, Captain,
the toughnesse of his courage turn'd to water;
see how his manly heart melts.

Pen.
Go, beat homeward,
there learn to eat your little with obedience,
and henceforth strive to do as I direct ye.

Exeunt Souldiers.
Ma.
My answer, Sir.

Pen.
Tell the great General,
my Companies are no fagots to fill breaches;
my self no man that must, or shall, can carry:
bid him be wise; and where he is, he 's safe then;
and when he findes out possibilities,
he may command me. Commend me to the Captains.

Ma.
All this I shall deliver.

Pen.
Farewel, Macer.
Exit Penyus.

Cur.
Pray gods this breed no mischief.

Reg.
It must needs,
if stout Swetonius win; for then his anger,
besides the Souldiers losse of due, and honour,
will break together on him.

Dru.
He's a brave fellow;
and but a little hide his haughtinesse,
(which is but sometimes neither, on some causes)
he shews the worthiest Romane this day living.
You may, good Curius, to the General
make all things seem the best.

Cur.
I shall endeavour:
pray for our fortunes, Gentlemen. If we fall,
this one farewel serves for a Funeral.
The gods make sharp our swords, and steel our hearts;
we dare, alas, but cannot sight our parts.

Exeunt.