University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

SCENE the City of Verulam, with the British Army Encamped under it, and the Romans at some distance.
Enter Cassibelan, and Camilla.
Cass.
Mourn not, my Love, because the Roman Arms
Have once more fill'd our Island with Alarms.
By Heav'n, I rather thank their forward Care,
Who with such readiness supply the War.
Who let me every Day gain new Renown,
To make the Beauty whom I love my own.
Thou shalt the Center of my Wishes be,
The Sum of my Desires is set in thee.

Cam.
Take all the Love a Lover e'er could claim,
I own, my Charming Prince, an equal Flame.
Let your Camilla all she feels confess,
And glory that her Passion is not less.
The tender'st Love of Woman-kind is due,
When 'tis solicited, dear Youth, by you.

Cass.
O Words! to Charm an Angel from the Skyes,
O lovely, loving Maid! thou Heaven of Joys!
Let me run out, thus ravish'd, on the Foe,
My Soul is rais'd, shall I not Conquer now?
Encourag'd thus, o'erthrow the Roman Bands,
Love guides my heart, and that shall guide my hands.

Cam.
Still let me lock you in my longing Arms,
Gaze on you still; for ev'n your Fury Charms.
Well might this Rage the Roman Legions fright,
But what disheartens them, gives me delight:
Such Love as mine, might ev'n Love's Goddess yield,
For so look'd Mars in the Phlegræan Field.

Cass.
Throw then thy snowy Arms about my Crest,
And let me crush thy Beauties to my Breast:
Thy Tenderness this Martial warmth inspires,
Thy Softness kindles these transporting Fires.
Thou first enflam'st me to the fiercest heat,
And after Battel mak'st my Blood abate.

Cam.
Let others boast their Beauty, or their Youth,
Or what is more, their Constancy, and Truth.
Let Nature all her Richest Gifts bestow,
And in full Tides let their smooth Fortunes flow;
Heav'n shower upon them Blessings from above,
Teach them (the greatest Blessing) how to Love.
All these are yours, yet there's one Charm in store,
Of wondrous Gallantry, which Merits more:
In all your Words, your Actions, and your Meen,
There's something more than Human to be seen.
That Godlike Something has peculiar Charms,
And that endears you to Camilla's Arms.

Cass.
Heaven! what a Spirit do thy Charms impart,
Strength to my Arms, and Courage to my Heart.
Thy Love is all my Spur, thy precious Smiles
The purchase of my over-rated Toils:
Let others Fight for Empire, or for Fame,
And the vain hopes of an Immortal Name;
I would not to the Field of Battel move,
For any Recompence that's less than Love.

Cam.
What Woman might not such dear words subdue,
To hear such Passion spoke by such as you?
But see, the Queen, with all the Court appears,
Her Royal Look Majestick Sorrow wears,
Her Eyes dart Fires, and scorn to melt in Tears.

Enter Boadicea, Venutia.
Boad.
Rome is not yet the Mistress of our Isle,
Still Fortune sheds on us an equal Smile,
Nor shrink we underneath the Warlike Toil.
Let Earth submit to her Tyranick Sway,
No Britain born, can servilely obey.
Their Swords at liberty our Souldier wields,
Draws as strong Bows, and lifts as pondrous Shields,
Disputes as desperately the Bloody Fields.

Cass.
The Lust of Power has set proud Rome on flame,
And Universal Empire is her aim;
Her Warlike Eagles spread from Pole to Pole,
Let Winds blow where they list, or Billows roll;
Thro' Woods and Wilds they force unbeaten ways,
Then steer more desperate Courses o'er the Seas.
New Legions now are Landed on our Shores,
And with fresh Troops relieve their shatter'd Powers;
From Vanquish'd Gaul their Conquering Arms are led,
And the Fam'd Decius Marches at their Head.

Cam.
Yet will those Conquerours act with prudent Care,
And proffer Peace, e'er they proceed to War.
Well do they know our Resolute Britain's Force,
And think it best, to take the mildest Course.
Reviewing what their Ancestors have done,
They find they cannot boast of much they won.
Here, the Great Julius met his first Defeat,
Glad was that Godlike Victor to Retreat;
Compell'd to own, when he forsook our Shores,
No force on Earth could equal Rome's but ours.

Boad.
He the first Rudiments of Conquest lay'd,
Then we were bravely fought with, now betray'd.
He shew'd how far Ambitious Spirits dare,
Bold were his Hopes, but his Pursuit was Fair.
Now with mean Arts Rome props her falling Cause,
Cæsar degenerates from what Cæsar was.
Our dying Lord, ensnar'd by Nero's wiles,
Won by false Friendship, and deceiv'd by smiles,
Left him to be the Guard of us, and ours,
Left him the Charge of all his Hostile Powers,
His well-fill'd Armories, and Naval-Stores.
To Rome's Rich Lot did all his Treasures fall,
And faithless Rome has made a Prey of all.

Cass.
Is Britain of her former Fires bereft,
Has she no Brave, no Gen'rous Spirits left?
I find our Vengeance strugling for a vent,
Shall Rome provoke? and shall not we resent?
Let her make all the World besides her own,
Nature has made us for our selves alone.
She fix'd our Isle, cast the wide Seas around,
Made the strong Fence, and shall not hands be found
In Britain, to maintain the British bound?

Boad.
Prince, in your Valour I repose my Trust,
Strong are our Armies, as our Cause is just.
Alike in both, does your pleas'd Queen confide,
And Righteous Gods will take the Righteous side.
Then let the Romans like the Gyants rise,
To fall, as they did, from revengeful Skyes.

Cass.
I hear their Trumpets sound the notes of Peace,
Trumpets from within.
As they draw near, the pleasing airs encrease.
A Bloody Field was once my sole Delight,
My Business, and my Pleasure was to Fight;
'Till your dear Beauties melted down my Heart,
And your kind Pity took your Beauties part.
Then was your Conquest absolute and free,
And now my Pleasure in the Peace shall be,
That I have leave to Love, Live, Die with thee.

Enter Decius, Caska, Attended.
Dec.
To you, Great Princess, from Imperial Rome,
Sent on a peaceful Embassy I come.
With you alone, will our Dread Empress Treat,
And freely to your Choice she leaves your Fate.
All Nations else without Dispute Obey,
And Homage, as her vanquish'd Vassals, pay.
But from his Love to your dead Consort due,
Our Cæsar condescends to Terms with you.

Bo.
Well, was his Love, and well his friendship shown,
Making those Realms, he swore to guard, his own:
But we (if lawful Princes could) rebell'd,
And secret Fraud with open Force repell'd.
Survey our Fields, your slaughter'd Legions count,
Learn to what numbers all your dead amount.
When her repeated Losses Rome shall know,
She will no more contemn, but court her Foe.

Dec.
The World's dread Master, Rome's Imperial Lord,
His Souldiers ravage in your Realms, deplor'd;
He knew not, while their Avarice urg'd them on
To those injurious Wrongs, what Wrongs were done.
Now Conscious of their guilt, I'm sent to sue
For Peace; which never Roman us'd to do.
See here, his awful, all-Commanding Hand,
[Shows a Scroal of Parchment, subscribed, Nero Cæsar.
Sign'd to whatever Reason can demand.
Here Peace, or War, upon your Voice depends;
Think; and declare us either Foes or Friends.

Bo.
Such have our Sufferings been, Rome's Treachery such,
You cannot grant, nor we demand too much:
But on these Terms, we chiefly shall insist,
First, let your numerous Forces be dismist;
Your Garrisons from strong-Wall'd-Towns withdraw,
No British Subject shall be kept in awe.
We will have all Prerogatives restor'd,
And Rome shall be our Ally, not our Lord.
This yielded to, will make us some amends;
Now 'tis in your decision, Foes or Friends?

Dec.
All this does Rome's indulgent Emperour yield,
You Wish unbounded had an ample Field.
Now, peaceably, let Rome's pleas'd Eagles fly,
And sweep with noiseless Pinions through the Skye.
Let Britain's waving Streamers all be furl'd,
And Universal Rest brood o're the World.
Let Winds forbear to rage, and Waves to roar,
But curling Floods come dancing to the shore;
Let all be Peace; for War is now no more.

Bo.
The sev'ring Clouds disclose a glorious Scene;
Bright Sun-shine smiles on Britain once again,
And all the Heavens around us look serene.
Let us retire a while, our Terms to sign,
Where Cæsar's Hand has led the way to mine.
Then let all Britain at her Bliss rejoice,
And you, brave Prince, my lov'd Camilla's choice,
to Cassib.
Have now your grateful Boadicea's Voice.
From your blest Bed let long Succession spring,
And every Royal Heir prove such a King.

Cass.
Now Hymen light thy Torch, and hold it high,
And scatter Sparks of Love about the Sky.
This day all fears of future Wars removes,
And all the rolling days to come, are Loves.

[Exeunt.
Re-enter Decius, Caska.
Dec.
O Caska! She's the same, the very same
I saw before in Medway's silver Stream,
And now the second sight revives my Flame.
All-ravish't on the flow'ry Bank I stood,
Viewing her Beauties through the liquid Flood:
Which when the Chaste, and Charming Virgin knew,
With trembling haste, all blushing, she withdrew,
Shot thro' the stream, and vanish'd from my view.
I might have known her then of Royal Race,
For lovely Majesty and Heavenly grace,
Shone bright in all the Features of her Face:
But now, I know her better, to my Cost,
And found again, I find her ever lost.
What might not I have suffer'd by this Truce?
Or what will my fantastick Fates produce?
No Wars shall cease, no Souldier's Arm shall rest,
If by this Peace my Rival should be blest,
All Peace must fly from my distracted Breast.

Cask.
Is this the Woman then? I'm glad she's known.
Be rul'd by me, she shall be still your own.
Now shall your lingring Fever be remov'd,
And you be what you were before you lov'd.
When I have helpt to ease you of your pain,
I'll turn your Soul, new form'd, for War again.
Let not one rising doubt your Thoughts perplex,
There are a thousand ways to win the Sex.

Dec.
She's too, oh! too far gone, too great a length,
E're to be reach'd by Stratagem or Strength.
Not all the dangers, of the bloodiest Field,
(You know, my Friend) can make my Courage yield;
Inur'd to Camps, in noise of Battels Nurst,
Death in all Forms I've seen, and brav'd the worst,
Nought but her loss, my settled Soul could move,
Nor can I stoop to any God but Love.
Fixt like a Rock, amidst a rapid Flood,
Beat on all sides by Waves, unshook I stood;
'Till Love, did like resistless Lightning shoot,
Run thro' and thro', and rend me to the Root.

Cask.
Suppress your Jealousy, your Rage abate,
Nothing is got by this immoderate Heat.
To gain your point, wrong measures you pursue,
Which smooth deep Policy alone can do:
In these Concerns we must with caution move,
Less Artifice belongs to War than Love.

Dec.
See me, my Friend, as calm as Lovers sighs,
Silently listning for your kind Advice.
My Life, my Love, depend upon your Breath,
Plott with dispatch, for all delay is Death.

Cask.
Far off, indeed, your present Hopes appear,
Cassibelan believes his Bliss is near.
But he, shall like some foolish Stripling run,
Who thinks on the next Hill to seize the Sun;
But when he climbs the Mountain he design'd,
He sees his Errour; and that Prince shall find,
Who thinks himself so near, how far he's left behind.

Dec.
Let them not meet, nearer than Pole to Pole;
Distract their Loves, as they distract my Soul.
Consult with Gods or Fiends; take any course,
And try what may be done, by Fraud or Force.
Rack your Invention for the speediest way,
To drive their hopes; far as yon rolling Sea
Divides their World from ours; if e're they join,
All Heav'n meets in their Souls, all Hell in mine.

Cask.
War must proceed, and Peace must be supprest,
Or you be never of your Wish possest.
The Peace confirm'd, your Rival's Joys ensue,
His Nuptials then are solemniz'd, and you
Shall have your Mistress Married in your view.
But bloody Fields, and Battels loud alarms,
Will still detain him from her longing Arms.

Dec.
Speak on a little longer, quickly speak,
O! tell me, what Evasions can we make,
Or what Pretensions have we now to break?

Cask.
Since either side on every term agreed,
No doubt the Peace will on their part proceed.
Let us some new unthought of point suggest,
Which will be certain to confound the rest:
Demand your Mistress in your Colleague's Name,
Absent, he cannot know he bears the blame,
And that again will set us all on flame.
Nay, to go farther yet; declare you come
With this Commission from the Court of Rome.
Say the great Bravery by Paulinus shown,
Now fully to Imperial Cæsar known,
Makes him, by favour to the Britains led,
Propose a Consul to Camilla's Bed,
That by their Nuptials either Empire ty'd
Firmly, for ever may remain Ally'd.

Dec.
Enough, the Queen, and all the Council's come,
I'le throw the Dice, what ever be my doom.
Thus far the War must favour my design
To cross his Hopes, altho' it Crowns not mine.

Enter Boadicea, Camilla, Venutia, Cassibelan.
Bo.
Britain and Rome are Friends from Pole to Pole,
Winds waft the joyful News, and Waters roll.
Let every Voice, where Seas and Shore extend,
Aloud proclaim, that Rome is Britain's Friend.
Let fearful Virgins sleep in quiet now,
Let well-pleas'd Hinds with chearful labour Plow,
And Peace be seen to sit on every Brow.
Tides of full Joy swell high in every Breast,
For the long harrass'd Earth is now at rest.

Dec.
Still, mighty Queen, does one great Point remain,
And that not granted, all the rest are vain.
To you, fair Princess, am I sent to move
[to Camilla.
For my brave Colleague, in the Cause of Love.
Long has Paulinus sigh'd his silent Vow,
But never would he make it known till now.
Cæsar declares himself his Souldier's Friend,
And on these terms decrees your Wars shall end:
By this Alliance will your Realms become
Link'd to the Interest of Imperial Rome;
So shall Hostility for ever cease,
And Rome and Britain have eternal Peace.

Cass.
War! rather let it be eternal War;
Let the whole World in endless Discord jar.
Run out, my Souldiers, bid our Trumpets sound,
Let in their Notes the Voice of Peace be drown'd:
Bid every Britain hasten to his Arms,
And rouze the nodding World with new Alarms.
We'll dare the worst, whatever Heav'n prepares,
Be Death or Conquest either ours, or theirs.

Bo.
Fir'd with a just Resentment and disdain,
Britain shall never hear of Peace again.
Not tho' your Cæsar could command our Fate,
Shall Boadicea condescend to treat.
Would but my Daughter once her self resign,
Tho' to an Emperour of the Roman Line!
By Heav'n I'd use her as my deadliest Foe,
Scarce should I use a faithless Roman so.

Cass.
Tell the bold Rival of my sacred Flame,
Tell him, Cassibelan shall sound his Name
Thro' all the embattell'd Squadrons, if he dare
Catch at the Sound, and meet his Rival there.

Dec.
Britain, assure your self you shall be met,
Now silence yours, and hear a Roman Threat.
Those Swords are drawn, whose cruel Edge shall spare
No Sex or Age, in the reviving War,
Those Souldiers are incens'd, whose desperate Bands
Dare act whatever Rage, and Lust commands.
They'l set your Temples and their Gods on Fire,
While Heav'n in vain sees the bold Flames aspire.
Chaste Matrons, shall like common Strumpets burn,
And Infants from the Breasts they suck, be torn.
Your Virgins shall on Shrines their Rapes deplore,
And pray to helpless Powers who suffer more.
Too late you will repent this rash Retreat,
Wish for these Articles again too late,
When all your lofty Towers shall shine in Flames,
Death Riot in your Streets, your Silver Thames
Roll down into your Seas a purple Flood,
And all your Chalky Cliffs look red with Blood.

[Exeunt Decius, Caska.
Cass.
Thro' the wide World let War's loud Voice be sent,
Let the sad Earth her dying Sons lament,
And Nature sicken for the dire Event.
And you Imperial, but regardless Powers,
Who unconcern'd sit smileing in your Bowers,
Let from your Hands the strugling Lightning fly,
And toss your flaming Bolts about the Skye.
Let all your Thunder speak your loud Applause,
And Heav'n, and Earth, join with us in our Cause.

Bo.
Beyond my Sex my towring Spirit dares,
Which shrinks not at the shrillest sound of Wars.
We stand on Terms as good as Rome's, and ours
Equal at least, if not exceed their Powers.
And Poets, who shall write in sacred Rhimes,
Our Actions to be read by future times;
If they take care to learn what each has lost,
Shall find that Rome has no great cause to boast.

[Exeunt.
Manet Venutia sola.
Ven.
Both sides with equal hopes for Arms prepare,
I'm left alone, abandon'd to Despair.
How hard, alas! is my unhappy Fate,
Compell'd to love whom all my Nation hate?
Duty, and Love, my doubtful Heart divide,
Which, at a loss to choose, takes neither side.
Britain must fall, if Conqu'ring Rome succeeds,
If Britain prospers, my Paulinus bleeds:
Why should I call him mine, who breaks the Vow
He made me once, but makes my Sister now?
My other Griefs could, while he lov'd, be born,
But now I sink with his unlook'd for scorn:
For tho' he should persist to use me ill,
I find it in my Fate to love him still.