University of Virginia Library

SCENE the Fourth.

Boadicia, Dumnorix, Icenians, Trinobantians, Ænobarbus, Flaminius, and Venusia.
Venusia.
Victorious sister, may th'unresting labour
Of fortune weave new honours to adorn thee,
And Dumnorix, thy colleague, and my lord;
But if amid these warlike consultations,
Ere yet the order'd pomp of battle moves,
A supplicating sound may reach thy ear,
Stoop from thy glory to an act of mercy.
Thy doom pronounc'd on these unhappy captives—

Boadicia.
Ha!

Venusia.
Their deservings, and thy daughter's pray'r,
Mix'd with my own compassion, from the tent
Have call'd me forth a suitor to thy pity,
That thou would'st hear and spare them.

Boadicia.
Spare these captives?

Dumnorix.
Why this request, Venusia?

Venusia.
Give them hearing.
They can unfold a story, which demands
Your whole attention.

Dumnorix.
Let us hear. Proceed.

[To Flam.
Flaminius.
The Romans' late injustice we abhorr'd,
Nor join'd the band of spoilers. In that season
We chanc'd one day to wander through the forest,
Which parts our confines from th'Icenian land.
We found a beauteous virgin in our way.

Boadicia.
Wretch, dost thou hope to barter with our sister
For thy base life?

Flaminius.
I fear not death, O queen;
But dread dishonour ev'n among my foes.

Ænobarbus
to Flaminius.
Death is thy terrour; reason else would teach thee,
No gratitude with cruelty can dwell.

Flaminius.
Deep in that wood we met the lovely maid,
Chac'd by a brutal soldier. At our threats
He soon retreated. To our home we led her,
From insult guarded, sent her back with honour,
Nor was she less than Boadicia's daughter.

Venusia.
Now, dearest sister, whose successful standard
Not valour more, than equity upholds;
And thou, my husband, who dost rise in arms
Oppressive deeds in others to chastise;
From your own guiding justice will you stray,
And blend deservers with the herd of guilt?

Dumnorix.
And are you Romans? Yes, we will, Venusia,
Repay their worthy deed. Strike off their fetters.

Boadicia.
What do I hear? A British chief's command?
Whoe'er unchains a Roman, on mankind
Lets loose oppression, insolence and rapine;
Sets treason, falshood, vice, and murder free.

Venusia.
Yet these preserv'd thy Emmeline from shame.

Boadicia.
Not less the victim of eternal shame,
Was she conducted to their hateful mansion;
To guard her honour, and be less, than ruffians,
Had been repugnant to their name and race;
But fear of me compell'd them to release her.
Then shall two Romans nurs'd in fraud and falshood,
From childhood train'd to each flagitious deed,
By colour'd pleas to shun the fate, they merit,
Here find regard against the thousand mouths
Of Boadicia's suff'rings? No, this moment
Shall they expire in torture.

Venusia.
Yet reflect.
Of all the paths, which lead to human bliss,
The most secure and grateful to our steps
With mercy and humanity is mark'd.
The sweet-tongu'd rumour of a gracious deed
Can charm from hostile hands th'uplifted blade,
The gall of anger into milk transform,
And dress the brows of enmity in smiles.

Boadicia.
Still dost thou dare, Venusia—

Dumnorix.
Gently, sister.
And trust me, these resemble virtuous men.

Boadicia.
Was not I virtuous, whom the Romans lash'd?
Were not my violated children virtuous?
Bear them this instant to the fiercest rack;
And while their trembling limbs are strain'd with torture,
While thro' the cruel agony of pain
The bloody drops bedew their shiv'ring cheeks,
Tell them, how gentle are the pangs, they feel
To those the soul of Boadicia prov'd,
When Roman rage her naked limbs expos'd.
And mark'd her flesh with ever-during shame.

Dumnorix
to the Britons.
Withhold your Hands.

Boadicia.
What means the Trinobantian?

Dumnorix.
To save thy benefactors and proclaim,
Whate'er by valour we extort from fortune,
We yet deserve by justice.

Boadicia.
To contend
With Boadicia, and protect her foes
Did she awaken thy ignoble sloth,
Which else without resentment of thy wrongs
Had slept obscure at home.

Dumnorix.
Forbear Be calm.

Boadicia.
Yes, under bondage thou hadst tamely bow'd,
Had not I fir'd thy slow, inactive soul.

Dumnorix.
Not with unbridled passion I confess,
I wield the sword and mount the warlike car.
With careful eyes I view'd our suff'ring isle,
And meditated calmly to avenge her.
Unmov'd by rage, my soul maintains her purpose
Through one unalter'd course; and oft before
As I have guided thy unruly spirit,
Against its wildness will I now protect thee,
And from a base, inhuman action save thee.

Boadicia.
Thy boasted calmness is the child of fear;
Thou tremblest to exasperate the foe.
Well was it, Britons, in our former conquests,
That I presided o'er the scene of slaughter;
Else had those thousands of the Roman youth,
Whose bodies lie extended on our fields,
Stood at this hour a threatning host against you.
Come then, ye warriors, follow your conductress,
And drag these slaves to death.

Dumnorix.
They will not move,
Fix'd with amazement at thy matchless frenzy.
Do thou revere these warriors, who with scorn
Observe thy folly.

Venusia.
Husband, sister, hear!
Oh! if my humbled voice, my prostrate limbs,
If tears and sighs of anguish may atone
For this pernicious discord, I have rais'd—

Boadicia
to Venusia.
Hence with thy despicable sighs and tears.
[To Dumnorix.
And, thou presumptuous, what invidious power,
Foe to thy safety, animates thy pride
Still to contend with Boadicia's wrath?

Dumnorix.
No, by Andate, I contend not with thee.
At this important season, when the soldier
Thirsts for the conflict, it would ill become me
To trifle here in discord with a woman.
Nay do not swell that haughty breast in vain.
When once the sacred evidence of justice
Illuminates my bosom, on a rock,
Which neither tears can soften, nor the gusts
Of passion move, my resolution stands.

Boadicia.
Now heav'n fulfil my curses on thy head!
May ev'ry purpose of thy soul be frustrate!
May infamy and ruin overtake thee!
May base captivity and chains o'erwhelm thee!
May shameful crimson from thy shoulders start,
Like mine, dishonour'd with the servile scourge!
With pain all shiv'ring, and thy flesh contracting,
Low mayst thou crouch beneath th'expected stroke,
Ev'n from the hands, thou sav'st!

Tenantius.
Alas! great princess,
Divert this wrath against th'impending foe,
Whose formidable ranks will soon descend
From yonder hill.

Boadicia
to the Britons.
Ungrateful and perfidious!
Now would I draw my spirit from your camp,
Leave you with him defenceless and expos'd;
Then should your shatter'd chariots be o'erthrown,
Your jav'lins broken, and in hasty flight
Far from your trembling hands the buckler cast;
Did not th'insatiate thirst, which burns my soul,
To empty ev'ry vein of Roman blood,
Protect you, traitors, from my indignation:
But, by th'ensanguin'd altars of Andate,
Thou, Dumnorix, be sure, shall't rue this day,
For thou henceforward art to me a Roman.