University of Virginia Library

Actvs 3.

Scena 1.

Enter Codigune, Gloster, and Cornwall with Souldiours vp in Armes.
Codig.
Now friends and fellow Souldiours in iust Arms,
Prepare your selues against the haughty foe,
Who, as wee heare, marches not farre from hence
What we haue done, by force weele make it good,
Or seale our bold attempts, with death and bloud.

Glost.
King, keepe your owne; maugre all opposition,
If he come hither to demaund your right,
And with his rebell troopes disturbe the peace
Of what both gods and men haue made your own,
Maintain the quarrell with your awfull power,
Be it right or wrong; behaue your selfe like Ioue,
And strike with thunder his base insolence:
Discourse not what is done, nor how, nor when.
Onely Kings wils are Lawes for other men.

Enter a Messenger.
Codig.
What tidings brings this sweating Messenger?

Messen.
My Lord, Prince Caradoc, returnd from Brittaine,
Is with his Army marching hitherwards.

Cod.
He comes vnto his death. Now, Codigune,
Banish al timorous thoughts: think what thou art;
A King. That word is able to infuse
Boldnesse, as infinite, as that we call
The worlds first mouer. Why, the name of King
Were able to create a man of stone,
With more then animall courage, to inspire
Dulnesse, with nerued resolution.
Then, Codigune, like Atlas, on thy backe,
Support thy Kingdomes Arch, vntill it cracke.
March forward.

Exeunt.

Scena 2.

Enter Caradoc, Gald, Mauron, Constantine, Lord Morgan, Earle of Anglesey, with colours and Souldiours.
Cara.
I was not wont, deare friends, to be so dull.
I am all lead, as if my subtle soule
Had left his lodging in this house of clay.
Each empty corner of my faculties,
And vnderstanding powers, swell with dreames
And dire presages of some future ill:
Gastly and fearefull specters haunt my sleepe.
And, if there be, as Heathen men affirme,
Some godlike sparks in mans diuining soule,
Then my propheticke spirite tels me true,
That some sad newes attends my steps in Wales.
I long to heare what mischiefe, or what good,
Hath hapned, since I parted from the King.

Enter Morion.
Morion.

Oh father, father, sfoot, I sweate, as if I had been
buried in a Tunne of hote graynes.

Morg.

Come you Coxecombe, leaue your proclamations
and your preambles, and tell her the naked truth.

Morion.

My Father knowes all.
Indeed, father, the naked truth is, that the Fayry Queene
robd me of all my clothes: you might haue seen me as poore
as an Open-arse. But I can tell you newes; the King is
poysoned; Lord Codigune crowned; The Lady Guiniuer, &
the young Gentlewoman imprisoned.

Morgan.

But harke you me, sonne Morion; is all this true,
or inuented of her owne foolish pates and imaginashions?

Morion.

Why, I pray you, father, when did you heare a
Gentleman of Wales tell lyes?

Morgan.

Her tell her true in that; tis the prauest Nation
vnder the Sunnes for that. Harke you me, sonnes; be Cad,

it is a great teale petter to be a thiefe, then a lyar, I warrant
her.

Gald.
What, Royall Prince, can chaunce predominate
Ouer a mind, that, like the soule, retaynes
A harmony of such concordant tunes?
No sudden accident should make to iarre.
This tenement of clay, in which our soule
Dwels in, vntill the Lease of life indures,
Of learned men was well called, Microcosme,
Or, little world: ouer whose mortall parts
The starres doe gouerne, whose immortall power
Sometimes begets a fatall birth of woe;
Sometimes againe inuerts their sullen course
To vnexpected Reuels, turnes our Critticke howres
To Cricket merriment; yet is there meanes that barrs
Their hatefull influence. Wisdome rules the starres.
You haue lost a Father: Vse the Athenians breath,
Graue Solons; No mans happy vntill death.

Cara.
Oh, louing Prince, thus the Physician speakes
To the disordered Patient: thus healthfull Arte
Conferres with wounded Nature. Tis a common tricke,
Men being sound, giue Phisicke to the sicke.
Fayre Prince, misconster not my discontent;
I grieue not, that Octauian is depriued
Of life; but that he hath exchanged
His life, for such a miserable death.
What villaine, but a prodigie of nature,
Ingendred by some Comet, would haue forst
His aged soule to wander in the ayre?
Bearing a packet of such ponderous sinnes,
Would cracke the Axel-tree of heauen to beare.
And not haue giuen him liberty to pray?
But I am armde with patience. First with words
Weele seeke to conquer; and if not, by swords.
March round; I heare their Drummes.

Scena 3.

Enter Codigune, Gloster, Cornewall, with colours and souldiours.
Codig.
Now, Caradoc, what ist thou canst demaund?

Morg.
Cousin Caradoc, I pray you hold her peace a little.

Codig.
Ile heare no mad men speake.

Morg.
Cads blu-hood, take her for Bedlems, & mad mens?

He offers to strike him.
Cara.
Be patient, Cousin. Codigune, in briefe,
I come to clayme my right, that thou vsurpest,
And by sinister meanes, blacke as thy sinnes,
Hast basely stolne: surrender first my wife,
My sister, and the Kingdome of Southwales;
Or by the gods, to whom I stand obliged,
In sacred bonds of Orizons and thankes,
For life and motion: if thou refuse to doe it,
Or moue that bloud boyles within my veynes,
At the memoriall of thy hellish sinne,
Ile teare the Crowne from off thy cursed head,
And eyther die my selfe, or strike thee dead.

Cod.
Caradoc, thou claymest South-Wales of vs.
Nor that, nor wife, nor sister shalt thou haue;
But if thou long'st for any, aske a graue.
The high-swolne pride of Maiesty and loue,
Brookes no competitors; its thus decreede,
Who shares with them, must for the booty bleed.
Ech Planet keeps his Orbe, which being resign'd.
Perhaps, by greater lights would be outshinde.

Car.
Sweet Patience, yet instruct my toung awhile
To speake the language of a temperate soule.
Codigune, marke vvhat Ile offer thee:
Since that the wrongs, which basely thou hast bred
Cannot be reconciled, but by the death
Of millions, that must suffer for vs two;
And we the authors of what wars and bloud
Shall in her frantike outrage lauish out:
(For tis a thing that honour scornes to doe,
That multitudes should perish for vo two:)
Thou art a man, if actions like thy words,
Be but proportionable, that disdaynest
To fight with crauen basenesse all on ods:
Nor doe I thinke thy honour so profuse,
That guiltlesse men should bleed for thy abuse:
Then, if thou darest: And once more to augment
Thy Bastard courage, againe, I dare thee fight,
Euen in a single Monomachy, hand to hand:
And, if by chance (as man is nought but chance)
Thou conquerest me, I will become thy slaue,
Confirme my right to thee, and to thy heyres;
And if I ouercome, doe thou the like?
How sayest thou? vvilt thou accept this offer?

Cod.
It pleases me, and here in sight of heauens,
By all my hopes of immortality,
I vvill performe vvhat thou hast brauely spoke.
I loue thee for these honourable termes,
And will as fearelesse entertaine this fight,
As a good conscience doth the cracks of Ioue.

Cara.
Then as vve are Souldiers, begirt vs round,
And let no man disturbe the Combatants,
Till one, or both, fall to our mother earth.
For thus be vvell assurde, the cause being right,
Immortall spirits doe for iustice fight.

Alarum.
They fight at Poleaxe, Codigune is conquered.
Glost.
Novv, Gloster, flie and hide thy head vvith shame.

Morg.
Cads blue-hood, peat out her praynes, for calling her Bedlems.

Cara.
Rise, Ile spare thy life.
Reuenge sufficient for thy damned facts;
For to a seared conscience these doe well,
Long life, mens hate, and a perpetuall hell.
Yet, that thou mayest liue, to attone thy soule
Vnto the angry heauens, I freely giue
The Kingdome of North-Wales for terme of life,
To thy dispose; onely reseruing tribute to my selfe,
In iust acknowledgement of me and mine.

Cod.
Know, Caradoc, since by the chance of war,
I must be forst to render vp that right,
That like a slaue I might haue kept by might,
I scorne thy gifts, and rather chuse to liue
In the vast wildernes with fatall Owles,
Free from the malice of base buzzard Chaunce,
And there in husht vp silence rauing goe;
Then earth, except be hell, no place so low.
Then with high almes,
Aside.
Ile to the Romanes, and there plot, pell mell.
Vessels that once are seasoned, keepe their smell.
Welshmen, farewell; and Caradoc adieu;
Vnder the heauens, we haue no foe but you.

Exit.
Cornewall.
Now Royall Prince, since happy victory
Hath set a period to a bloudy fight,
Cornewall, in humble manner, here presents
Himselfe and seruice to your Princely Grace.

Cara.
Cornewall, although thy actions not deserue
The least respect of vs, in taking part
With the aspiring Bastard, and the rest
Of his adherents; yet we doe omit
All former iniuries, and reunite
Cornewall vnto our loue.

Corn.
Then Princes, ioyne with Cornewall, and inthrone
True honour and deserts, with what's her owne.
Ascend your Chayre, fayre Prince.

The Trumpets flourish, omnes. They crowne him.
Omnes.
Long liue Caradoc. King of Wales.

Cara.
We thanke you Princes. This being done, weele see
Our beautious Queene and sister both set free.
Enter Gloster solus.
Now, Gloster, in this still and silent wood,
Whose vnfrequented pathes do lead thy steps
Vnto the dismall caue of hellish fiends;
With whom, a Witch, as vgly to confront,
As are the fearefull Furies she commaunds,
Liues in this solitary vncouth place;
Begin thy damned plots, banish that thred-bare thought
Of Vertue,
Which makes vs men so senselesse of our wrong,
It makes vs beare the poyson of each tongue.
No, Gloster, no; he, whose meeke bloud's so coole
To beare all wrongs, is a religious foole:
Or he that cannot finely knit reuenge,
Like to Aracne, in a curious web,
May wounds still fit a Nightcap for his head.
Since I am forst to flie with foule disgrace,
And since of gods or men no hope I finde,
Ile vse both hell and Fiends to ease my minde.
Here dwels a famous Witch, who, with her sonne,
As blacke in arte, as arte it selfe is blacke,
Both memorable for their Magicke skill,
That can command sterne vengeance from beneath
The center of the earth, for to appeare
As quicke as thought. To her Ile tell the tale
Of my reuenge, and with the golden Chimes
Of large rewards, inchaunt her hellish eares.
And see: their monstrous shapes themselues appeares.

Scena 4.

Enter the Witch and her sonne from the Caue.
Gloster.
Thou famous Mistresse of the vnknown depths
Of hels infernall secrets, oh vvhat revvard
Shall a deiected, miserable man,
Chased from the confines of his natiue land,
By vvrong oppression, and insulting pride,
Disgrace, contempt, and endlesse infamy,
Giue, for redresse from thy commanding arte?

Witch.
Gloster, I know thee wel, although disguisd:
Thou comest to craue our helpe, for thy reuenge.
'Gainst Caradoc, who now hath vanquished
The Bastard Codigune in single fight.
Know Gloster, that our skill
Commaunds the Moone drop from her siluer sphere,
And all the starres to vayle their golden heads,
At the blacke horrour that our Charmes present,
Atlas throwes downe the twinckling Arch of heauen,
And leaues his burthen at our dreadfull spels.
This pendant element of solid earth,
Shakes with amazing Earthquakes, as if the frame
Of this vast continent would leaue her poles,
Neptune swels high, and with impetuous rage
Dashes the haughty Argoscy with winds,
Against the Christall battlements of heauen.
The troubled ayre appeares in flakes of fire,
That, till about the ayres circumference,
We make the vpper Region
Thicke, full of fatall Comets, and the skie
Is filde with fiery signes of armed men.
Hell roares, when we are angry, and the Fiends,
As schole-boyes, tremble at our Charming rod.
Thus, when we are displeased, or male-content,
Both hell obeyes, and euery Element.

Gloster.
Thou matchles wonder, worke but my reuenge,
And by the triple Hecate, and the povvers
Your Charmes adore, Ile load you vvith a vvaight
Of gold and treasure, till you cry, No more.
Inuent, great soule of arte, some stratagem,
Whose fame may draw him to these dismal woods.
No danger can out-dare his thirsty soule
In honourable enterprises: he is a man,
Should hell oppose him, of such dauntlesse mettal,
That were but fame the end of his atchieuement,
He would as boldly cope with it, as with things
Of common danger.

Witch.
Then Gloster, harke: Here in this dismall Groue,
By arte I will create a furious beast,
Mou'd by a subtill spirit, full of force
And hellish fury, whose deuouring iawes
Shall hauocke all the borderers of Wales,
And in short space vnpeople all his Townes.
Now, if he be a man that seeks for fame,
And grounds his fortunes on the popular loue,
Or King like doe preferre a common good,
Before a priuate losse; this famous taske,
Whose fearefull rumour shall amaze the world,
Will egge him on: where being once but come,
He surely meetes with his destruction.
Sonne, to this purpose, straitway to thy booke,
Enter the Caue, and call a powerfull spirit by thy skill,
Commaund him instantly for to appeare,
And with thy Charmes, binde him vnto the shape
Of a deuouring Serpent, whilest without
We doe awayte his comming.
Exit Magician.
Thunders and Lightning.
Now whirle the angry heauens about the Pole,
And in their fuming choler dart forth fires,
Like burning Aetna, being thus inraged
At this imperious Necromantike arte.
Dis trembles at our Magicall commaund,
And all the flaming vawtes of hells Abisse,
Throw forth sulphureous flakes of scorching fire.
The iangling hell-hounds, with their hellish guizes,
Daunce damned rounds, in their infernall rage.
And to conclude, earth, water, ayre, and fire,
And hell grow sicke, to see mans arte aspire.
A generall enuy makes them malecontent,
To see deepe arte commaund each element.
See, Gloster, see, thinkes he, this monstrous shape
Enter the Serpent.
Will not abate the courage of his foe,
And quell the haughty pride of Caradoc?

Gloster.
Yes, mighty Artist, were he thrice inspirde
With more then humane courage, he may as soone
Conquer those matchlesse Giants, that were set
To keepe the Orchard of Hesperides,
Or match the labours of great Hercules.

Enter the Serpent. It thunders.
Witch.
Goe shrowde thy horrid shape within this wood,
And seize on all thou meetst. Come, Gloster, in,
And here awhile abide within this Caue.
Thy eyes shall see what thy vext soule did craue.

Exeunt.

Scena 5.

Enter Ostorius Scapula, Marcus Gallicus, Manlius Ualens, Cessius Nasica, and Codigune in Armes.
Ostorius.
Now, valiant Romanes, once more do we tread
Vpon the bosome of the Bryttish ground:
And by the gods that doe protect great Rome,
Weele now acquite great Cesars foule disgrace,
Or die like Romanes in this forray ne place.

Marcus.
Me thinks, it is a shame to Rome and vs,
That haue beene counted famous through the world,
For matchlesse victories, and feates of armes,
That such a petty Iland should repulse
So huge an army of the Romane strength,
Able to sacke the spacious walles of Troy,
To leuell Babels pride euen with the ground:
An Ile, that in respect of Cesars power,
Is like the Center, to the ample heauens;
A poynt, vnto a large circumference;
Small atomes, to the body of the Sunne.
Sure, this Welshman works by Magicke spels,
Or, tis impossible, if he be a man,
Compos'd of flesh and bloud, sinewes and nerues,
He should out-dare so puissant an host.

Codig.
Great Generall, that which he holds, is mine;
And though infor'st by violence and wrong,
From that which Nature left my heritage:
Yet, since I see such hopes, so fayrely sprung
From such an honourable head, as Rome,
Whose fame for honour, cheualry and armes,
Out-shines all Nations with her glorious rayes:
This Caradoc, whom men doe causlesse feare,
Is of condition insolent and proud,
Ambitious, tyrannous, speckled with euery vice
The infectious time can harbour. Say, we confesse him bold,
And of a courage that grim visag'd death,
The obiect of true valour, cannot daunt;
Though Proteus-like, he came in thousand shapes,
What's he, comparde to numbers infinite?
Or that Imperiall Rome, whose Eagle eyes
Haue gaz'd against the sunne of matchlesse tryumphs,
Should basely feare a weake and silly Fly?
This Welshman is all superficiall,
Without dimensions, and like a mountaine swels,
In labour onely with great ayry words,
Whose birth is nothing, but a silly Mouse;
Actions without their measure or their weight.
Then, Romanes, derogate not from the worth,
That time in ancient Chronicles records
Of your eternall honours got in warre.
But if you prize your honours more then life,
Or humane happinesse, here's a noble cause
Of wrong and vsurpation, to erect
A statue to your dying memory.
Then on, great Generall, waue the Romane Eagle,
Euen to the Tents of haughty Caradoc,
And with my bloud Ile second this braue fight,
Or hide my shame by death in endlesse night.

Ostor.
Brauely resolu'd. Ere long, assure thy selfe,
Weele seate thee in thy ancient dignity,
And force to Cesar homage, and to Rome:
And, though we feare not one particular man,
Yet, for because we truely are inform'd,
That Caradoc is strong and puisant,
For ten dayes wee intend to make a truce,
And in the meane time to make strong our hoste:
Which if he doe refuse, the time expired,
To render vp thy right, which he detaines;
Warre, like some gnawing vulture shall attend
Vnto their finall ruine, and their end.
And to that purpose, Marcus Gallicus
Shall as a Legate both from Rome and vs,
Instantly giue them knowledge: the time's but short:
And till the date's expirde, prepare for sport.

Exeunt.