University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE changes to the Roman Camp.
Enter Paulinus solus.
Paul.
With what a Load of Vengeance am I curst!
Yet Fortune seems not to have done her worst.
Venutia's Safety shows some dawn of Joy,
But still a dismal Cloud o'er-casts my Sky.
Her Sister's Suff'rings cut off all Relief,
Nor can she now in Honor ease my Grief.
Damn'd Villain!—but the God's thy Crimes pursue,
Thy Death must expiate them—if Death can do.
The rolling Stone, or whirling Wheel wou'd be
A Punishment too small, and light for thee.
The much-wrong'd Britain's just Revenge prepare,
What art thou here? exempted from thy Share?
Then Heav'n is just by halves.

[To Caska entring.
Cask.
Heav'n takes its due;
So let it, wou'd but you do Justice too.
Think what vast Matters on your Arms depend,
And give not Fate the leisure to descend,
But succour, as you ought, your dying Friend.

Paul.
Death, and Damnation, be his sudden Doom,
Fiends tear him; Furies drag him to his Tomb.
Of all Mankind wou'd you have me redeem
The Monster? me relieve a Wretch like him?
Who, in usurping my much injur'd Name,
With all the basest Treach'ry Hell cou'd frame,
Ruin'd my Love, and sully'd all my Fame.

Cask.
Mark who destroys your Fame, when you deny
To fight; and tamely let your Colleague die;
When you stand here, and see him meet his Doom;
How will you answer that, to Fame, and Rome?

Paul.
Is it for you to ask? No Matter how,
'Tis Cæsar only has the Right to know.

Cask.
Yet hear me; since your Honour cannot move,
Think, and think quickly; who destroys your Love.
For know, when Decius shall resign his Breath,
That Hour you rashly yield him up to Death;
Know that Cassibelan shall then be led
The joyful Bridegroon to Venutia's Bed.

Paul.
Ha! What? and when?

Cask.
That Hour that Decius dies,
Ruins all yours, and crowns the Prince's Joys.

Paul.
You rave; meer Riddles, Riddles.

Cask.
Trust your Fate;
You'll find a sad Repentance come too late.

Paul.
Where is Camilla then?

Cask.
Why? dead; she play'd,
The Roman, as became a ravish'd Maid.
Her last Desires, forc'd the poor Prince to vow
Love to her Sister, which he pays her now.
The Queen, and Court, improve her dying Prayer,
At once—the Funeral and the Nuptial Torch prepare,
Lest Britain should be left without an Heir.

Paul.
Ha! sure it cannot be, it is not true;
All must be false that ever comes from you.
This may be falser than thy self.

Cask.
It may,
Believe it not, nor go to fight, but stay,
And with his Life, throw your own Love away.
Death to a Roman is not such a Curse,
But still the loss of Love is Millions worse.

Paul.
What shall I think? it may, or may not be;
But if it is; Heav'ns! What becomes of me?
Perhaps 'tis his Device, some Fetch from Hell,
But who will venture where he loves so well?

Cask.
Nay, do not muse; resolve on something strait,
You have not time to dally with your Fate.
The Day wears fast, the rolling Hours ride Post,
And Opportunity will soon be lost.

Paul.
Or true, or false, no Devil can design,
Contrive, or lay a Plot to match with thine.
Nothing till now, could jealous Thoughts suggest,
Which your curst Engines kindle in my Breast,
And rolling Wild-Fire-like destroy my Rest.
March once more to the Field, ye Pow'rs Divine!
[To the Soldiers.
How hard and intricate a Task is mine?
Compell'd at once by so perplex'd a Fate,
To save the Maid I love, and Man I hate.

[Exit with Soldiers.
Manet Caska solus.
Cask.
When Honour, Interest, Hell and Vengeance fail'd,
A Woman (as I knew she would) prevail'd.
It could have been by nought but Woman done.
Woman, who first brought all these Mischiefs on.
Now, let all Plagues on Love-sick Fools be thrown,
If any Plague is greater than their own.
None with their Follies would their Thoughts perplex,
If all, like me, could understand the Sex.
False is their Grief, dissembl'd is their Joy;
This Minute kind, and the next Moment coy.
They slight, when woo'd; yet ev'n, tho' slighted, wooe;
Fly when we follow, when we fly, pursue.
Loose are their Thoughts, yet all their Words reserv'd;
By their own Pride, their own Desires are starv'd.
Their Faces and their Souls were form'd to cheat;
Their Air, and Mien, and Actions are Deceit.
Cast Pride and Baseness, Treachery and Shame
Up in one Word, and Woman is the Name.
[Exit Caska.

Scene changes to the City. An Alarm. Enter Boadicea. Camilla with Soldiers.
Bo.
Our Armies move like Clouds beneath the Skies,
At whose first Clash th'imprison'd Light'ning flies.
Our Fields are cover'd with the Roman Pow'rs,
And Stones from batt'ring Engines storm our Tow'rs,
Abroad, the British Youth in Battle falls;
At home, the thund'ring Rams o'erthrow the Walls.
Sharp Javelins now come singing o'er the Plain,
And mingling Troops the desp'rate Fight maintain.
Fly, fly, my Soldiers, with a fresh Recruit,
Where Britain faints beneath the fierce Dispute.
[To the Soldiers.
Rush with Reserves to every stagg'ring Troop;
Drive with new force the broken Squadrons up.
Sustain this single Day their dreadful Pow'r,
And Rome shall never give us Battle more.

Cam.
Follow your God-like Leader to the Field,
And throw your selves around him as a Shield.
Let him not spur too fiercely thro' the War:
Let not his Vengeance urge him on too far.
Still where he strives to pierce, his Steps pursue,
Watch all his Motions, keep him still in View,
And fight for him as he has fought for you.
With your own Lives his sacred Life redeem,
Or you, and I, and all are lost in him.

[Exeunt Soldiers.
Bo.
Once more, thus low, to you great Gods! I bow.
Oh! see our Wars at their sad Upshot now.
(kneeling.
See all things here in wild Confusion hurl'd:
See Britain grappling for her little World.
Once more, relenting Heav'n! look down in Smiles,
And bless once more these late-lov'd happy Isles.
Now guide our Arms, ye Gods! direct our Sword;
This joyful Day let Britain be restor'd;
And save the Nation where you're most ador'd.

Exit.
Cam.
Thus low, low as the Ground that gave me Birth
(And oh, that I cou'd sink beneath the Earth:)
(Kneeling.
Thus low, I beg you, if the Fates design
The Fall of Britain; still, ye Pow'rs Divine!
Tho' you reject her Prayers, refuse not mine.
I beg no Conquest in the Bloody Strife;
No Crown, no Kingdom, but my Prince's Life.
Save him, oh save him, 'midst those loud Alarms;
Restore him living to these longing Arms:
I'll force him with me to some peaceful Shore
Where he shall hear the Sound of Wars no more.

[Exit.
The Alarm continues. Scene changes to a Prison. Enter Decius as from it.
Dec.
Hark! 'tis the wish'd for Clash of Roman Swords,
The Noise of War some Hopes of Life affords.
I'm glad once more to grasp thee; and depend
On thee; 'tis thou must be my chiefest Friend.
[To his Sword.
I've knock'd my Fetters off, my Goaler slain,
And am (methinks) all Roman once again.
O! for some British Soldier now to slay,
And in his Armour get unknown away.
Ha! here comes one; turn, and your life resign,
You could not fall by nobler hands than mine.

Enter Caska in British Armour. Kill'd as he enters.
Cask.
Oh! Decius, what, what has thy rashness done?
O! Death and Hell! I find my Life is gone.
[Falls.
What more cou'd my malignant Fortunes do,
At once, with me, she sheds her Bane on you.

Dec.
O! curst, curst fatal Error, damn'd Decree
Of spiteful Fates, to make you fall by me.
[Kneeling by him
Curse on my haste in making sure a Foe;
Curse on my blindness that believ'd you so.
If Heaven this one Advantage will resign,
And spare your Life, I'll gladly offer mine.
Why was this most unhappy Armour born?
Why was this damn'd, this fatal Habit worn?
Speak, and some Comfort to your Decius give,
Say, have you any hopes? and can you live?

Cask.
Tis done, this hurry of a Life is past,
And Death's cold Hand creeps o'er my Eye-Lids fast.
Thus in a moment my Designs are crost,
And all my brave ambitious Projects lost.
Living I still deny'd; but dying prove
That more than Human Wisdom rules above.

[Dies.
Dec.
What can the Gods by this Mischance design?
Or is thy Death the sad Presage of mine?
Distractedly my Thoughts begin to roll,
And something wondrous horrid, shocks my Soul.
A guilty Conscience shoots its angry Sting;
A guilty Conscience! is there such a thing?
Yes Heaven! I feel my very Heart-strings bleed
And wish undone that execrable Deed.
From unhurt Skies our Crimes, like Darts rebound,
And on the Wretch who shot them, turn the Wound.
My Spirits faint, yet I will rouze them up,
Death is the worst, Death cannot make me droop.
Let them pursue Revenge with Fire and Blood,
I'll perish as a Roman Soldier shou'd.
Enter Cassibelan.
Ha! art thou here? Of all Mankind I thought
To shun thee.

Cass.
Thee of all Mankind I sought.
The Gods and I have took the nicest time,
For the severest Vengeance of thy Crime.
Thy Tragedy might have been play'd before,
But now so near relief, will spite thee more;
As shipwrack'd Men, who perish close at Shore.

Dec.
Secure within my self unmov'd I stand,
And never yet cou'd fear a single Hand:
And yet I wou'd this Fight with thee decline,
Not for the safety of my Life, but thine.
I wrong'd thee; to requite it, let thee live;
That Satisfaction's all I have to give.
For tho' my Death shou'd from our Strife ensue,
The Romans wou'd revenge it soon on you.

Cass.
Come all the Roman Legions, and in spite
Of their loud Threats, I'll kill thee in their sight.
And when they find that by my hand you fell:
[Fight. Dec. falls.
They'll say you ought not to have dy'd so well.

Dec.
Curse on my feeble and enervate Arm,
It cou'd not strike with strength enough to harm;
A sudden numbness on its Sinews seiz'd,
And let my Rival wound me where he pleas'd.
And yet with pleasure I resign my Breath,
Since that has crown'd my Life which caus'd my Death.
All her dear sweets were mine, the vast delight
Seems still to dance before my swimming sight.
I rifled all th'inestimable store,
The longest Life could have bestow'd no more,
And dying I rejoyce to leave you poor

Dies.
Cass.
Oh! that thou shouldst so brave and nobly fall,
Hadst thou a thousand Lives I'd have them all,
All for my vast revenge, alas! too small.
Thy blood had justly been on Scaffolds spilt,
Thy End, as base, and barb'rous as thy Guilt.
Honour forbids me to pursue my blow,
And not in vain insult a breathless Foe.
Ile think no more—but hasten to the Fight,
Find out my Love, and perish in her sight.
Pour on her balmy Lips my parting Breath,
Look her all o'er, and clasp her close in Death.
Sigh out my Soul upon her panting Breast,
And with a Passion not to be exprest,
Sink at her Feet into Eternal rest.

Exit.
Trumpets. Enter Paulinus, Fabian, Soldiers.
Paul.
Make haste, my Friend, and let the Slaughter cease,
Thro' all the Streets proclaim a general Peace.
Now tell them all our dismal Wars shall end,
And Britain still be valu'd as a Friend.
[Exit Fabian.
Ha! what has Destiny had here to do?
What, Decius? and his Favourite Caska too?
Has Justice reach'd you both? Heaven heard my Vow,
And in your Deaths compleats my Conquest now.
This is the Palace sure, 'tis time to move,
To crown my Fortune, and secure my Love.
The Queen with both her Daughters appear above; the Queen with a Bowl in one Hand, and a Dagger in the other.
Ha! there she stands; Heaven! what a dismal Scene?
What can this pomp of solemn Mourning mean?
What means that Dagger? oh! my bleeding Soul,
What deadly Poison fills that Golden Bowl?
Hither, dread Queen, your mournful Aspect bend,
And speak, oh! speak, what Fate and you intend.

Bo.
In me the Roman Heroine shall be seen;
What Fate and I intend, becomes a Queen.
Like Gods, I liv'd, while Gods would let me reign,
Rob'd of my Realms, they leave me Life in vain.
The Blood of Monarchs, circles in their Crown,
Thrones buoy them up, and once dethron'd, they drown.
Sinking I still may choose a nobler Doom,
Than to be led a Royal Slave to Rome.
When the most wretched can resolve to die,
Most of their Misery's over; here's to try.

[Offers to drink.
Paul.
Hold, hold, dread Queen, and look with Pity down,
Live, and I'll beg you to receive your Crown,
And gladly make your Realms again, your own.
Farther than ever, I'll extend your Sway,
While Romans, shall like Native Slaves obey.
Entire your vast Dominions I'll restore,
Exalt your Crown, far higher than before,
While Cæsars Friendship makes your Greatness more.

Bo.
Such Restauration is my single due,
Can you restore my Daughter's Honour too?
Fate in that Case can no Relief afford,
That Loss, alas! can never be restor'd.

Paul.
'Tis done, look here, and see the Villain dead;
Vengeance at last, reach'd his devoted Head.
Pointing to Decius.
His flowing Blood washes away her Stain,
And she, who still was Pure, looks White again.

Cam.
Tell me what most my bleeding heart would move,
To think of Life; can you restore my Love?
If he is in the fatal Battle slain,
All Offers else to make me live are vain.

Paul.
Thrice furiously he charg'd the Troops I led,
Thrice I retir'd, to shun him, from their Head.
I knew the Woes you felt, the Wrongs you bore,
And would not in his Loss encrease the Score.
But gave my Soldiers in our hottest Strife
Strict Orders to preserve your Prince's Life.

[Shout from within.
Cam.
What mean those Shouts? Infection seize the Breath,
And rot the Tongues that sound my Lover's Death.
Drink Mother, and defie Barbarian Power,
Rome has prevail'd, and Britain is no more;
Drink, for the Business of the War is done,
Cassibelan, who led our Armies on,
Cassibelan, my lov'd Cassibelan, is gone.

Paul.
stay I conjure you, I command you stay,
I charge you, throw not thus your Lives away.

Bo.
In vain, mistaken Wretch, you threat'ning stand,
Command a Queen, with Death at her command?
Roman, I shall not yet my Power resign,
Know, that I Reign, while this, or this is mine.
Poison and Dagger.
This makes a vanquish'd Queen, amidst her Woes,
Laugh at the Spite of Fate, and Power of Foes.

[Drinks.
Paul.
Run Soldiers, run, I'll strive to save my own,
Batter the Bulwarks with your Bodies down,
He that preserves her, has the British Crown.

Bo.
Hold; Boadicea all your Power defies,
The Moment that you stir, Venutia dies.
Sure I am more than Empress on a Throne,
I rule your Fate together with my own.
Now my Camilla pledge the Noble Draught,
And drink as deep as ravish'd Virgins ought.

Cam.
Here's to those happy Seats, those blissful Cells,
Where Virtue undisturb'd in Safety dwells;
Where never Impious Ravisher has been,
And never Barbarous Roman enter'd in.
This Draught will make me swim in Bliss above,
And send me where I soon shall meet my Love.

[Drinks.
Bo.
Now do you drink, and hast with us to Bliss,
[To Ven.
Ha! do you start? take either this, or this,
[Dagger or Poison.
Drink with a chearful Look, and noble Mind,
For by my Wrongs you shall not stay behind.

Paul.
Curse maze of Fate, what shall Paulinus do?
Make haste, forlorn, lost Wretch, and perish too.
She dies alass! if I but dare to stir,
If not, she dies; why, die thou then with her.
Draws his Sword and claps it to his Breast.
Love, in thy Death, let this thy Comfort be,
I will not live one Moment after thee.

Ven.
That wou'd indeed dispel my Fear, and Pain,
Were we but well assur'd to meet again,
But sure we shall; a Hundred Spirits tell,
In Whispers that we shall; till then farewel.

Paul.
Farewel.

She is going to drink, and he to fall on his Sword as Cassibelan enters above, his Breast bloody.
Cass.
What's here? oh my prophetick Soul!
What have you done my Love? give me the Bowl.
Takes the Bowl from Venutia
Poison must help, my Wounds are slight, and few,
Not deep enough to send me hence with you.
I ran on Swords, lay'd sev'ral Romans dead,
Courted my Death, but Death tho' courted fled.
But all their cruel Mercy was in vain,
While in thy Death, oh! Soul of Life, I'm slain.

[Drinks.
Bo.
Now 'tis thy turn; nor can'st thou now repine,
Goes to stab Ven.
Our fleeting Souls must needs encourage thine.

Cass.
The Poison sure usurps your Reason's place,
Wou'd you extinguish all the Royal Race?
Snatching the Dagger.
Were Britain of this Princely Fair bereft,
What other Heiress have our Kingdoms left?
Roman, this Gift my Gratitude shall prove,
[To Paulinus.
Since you wou'd give me Life, I'll give you Love.

They all descend, and appear on the Stage. Paulinus addresses himself first to Cass. then to Venutia.
Paul.
To you, most gen'rous Prince, my Thanks are due,
And all the Rapture of my Soul to you.
I have you now, Thanks to propitious Fate,
My Joys are full, and Vict'ry is compleat.
Thou Crown of all my Toils, I shou'd not boast
The Conquest of the World, if thou we'rt lost.
A mutual Love is in your Looks confest;
Soft Longings are in short-breath'd Sighs exprest,
And murm'ring Words speak Virgin-Passion best.

Cam.
My only Love, in the black Vale of Death
And gloomy Shades which we must pass beneath;
Where nought but Ghosts appear before our View,
I shall draw Courage from the Sight of you.

Cass.
Thou Life in Death, if ought in Heav'n above
Excels the Bliss and Extasie of Love,
Let Gods possess it, undisturb'd and free,
And leave me any where possess'd of thee.

Cam.
My Soul is sick, and all on Fire my Breath;
My dizzy Eyes begin to swim in Death.
From thy dear Sight I must for ever fly;
But do not, do not leave me till I dy.

Cass.
Nor then, by Heav'n, if Poyson will not do,
With Wounds on Wounds I will your Flight pursue,
O'ertake you quick, and be the Guide to you.

Bo.
Death clasps me with a cold, but close Embrace
And chill, but heavy Damps o'erspread my Face.
My fleeting Soul 'twixt two Extremes is lost,
Now scorch'd with Fire, and now benumm'd with Frost.
Yet in the midst of all my mortal Pain,
Tho' raging Madness strives to tear my Brain,
Honour forbids a Monarch to complain.
These petty Kingdoms let the Romans share,
If Heav'n is just, I have an Empire there.

[Falls and dies.
Cam.
Poor Mother, art thou fall'n? Farewel, farewel:
So in the Fight my faithless Hero fell.
[Raving.
For he, before he perish'd, grew unkind,
And his poor Love no more possess'd his Mind.
He call'd me false, and perjur'd, and forsworn,
Call'd me a Name, oh Gods! that can't be born:
Did you not hear him, Heav'n?

Cass.
Ye dreadful Pow'rs!
How dismal and how hard a Fate is ours?
Was there beyond her Death a greater Curse?
Why speaks she those mad Words that made me worse?
Look up, my dying Dear.

Cam.
Alas, my Love!
My fleeting Soul had almost reach'd the Seat
Which Fate has destin'd for its last Retreat:
But thou hast call'd me from the dark Descent,
And I made haste 'ere yet thy Voice was spent;
While on thy Lips the fault'ring Accents hung,
And the last Murmurs trembl'd on thy Tongue.

Cass.
Oh! be not so impatient to be gone;
Hold but a little while, I'll lead thee on.
My Soul, like Wrecks upon the swelling Main,
Is now cast up, and now suck'd back again.
Now from my Lips she takes a short Survey
Of vast Eternity, repines to stay;
But flutters with desire to fly away.

Cam.
Ha! what is this, I feel, some Hand unknown
[Raving again.
Has grip'd me fast, and strives to push me down.
O! save me, gracious Gods! a Rape, a Rape!
Is there no Way? none left me to escape?
O! let some Miracle of Aid be giv'n;
Unhand me Decius—Villain—help me Heav'n!
Now, now the lustful Monster has me fast;
Heav'n, will you let his loath'd Embraces last?
Gods! 'tis a doing now, 'tis done, 'tis past.
I'll come when I can 'scape from him, I'll come,
To tell you all the monstrous Crimes of Rome;
And oh! to an amazing fearful Summ.
Their barb'rous Rapes, Adult'ries, Murders mount
I bring you, Righteous Gods! the dread Account.

[Dies.
Cass.
Where art thou now my Love? and why become
Kneeling by her, and leaning over her.
Pale as a Ghost, and as a Statue dumb?
Oh! whither is thy charming Spirit fled?
Am I alive? and is Camilla dead?
These Lips must speak no more; no more these Eyes
Must open, nor this breathless Charmer rise.
How beautiful, alas! does Death appear?
How lovely looks that awful Tyrant here?
Thus o'er thy Coarse for ever let me ly,
Thus press thy Breasts, and in this Posture dy.
Gape wide my Wounds, and bleed at ev'ry Vein;
Mount Madness till you reach and wrack my Brain.
What? will not all the Roman Weapons do?
Nor that Addition of the Poyson too?
Since the strong Soul maintains her lov'd Abode,
Fate meant me sure immortal as a God.
But this shall end me, were I all Divine:
And thus I make my self for ever thine.

Falls on his Sword, and dies with his Head on her Breast.
Ven.
Support me, Love; for at the dismal Sight,
My Eyes, methinks, like theirs, are lost in Night.
My Spirits shrink, and shiver at the View,
And all the Life I've left, is now in you.

Paul.
'Tis mournful, wondrous mournful, come my Love,
From the sad Scene to that of Bliss remove.
Lock'd in these Arms, learn to forget your Grief.
And on this Breast seek Safety and Relief.
Thus angry Gods have let their Vengeance fall
With an impartial Justice on us all.
Rome triumph'd still o'er Britain in distress:
Britain, when prosp'rous, show'd her Mercy less.
So high the Cruelty of both was driv'n,
That both are punish'd by Offended Heav'n.
Hence let successful Warriours learn to show
A tender Pity to the prostrate Foe.
Let those, on whom their Fortunes never frown,
Relieve the Wretches that are trampl'd down:
They who stand fast, still succour them who fall,
Since Humane Chance is what attends us all.