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Bond. THE hardy Romans? Oh, ye gods of Britain,

The rust of arms, the blushing shame of soldiers! Are these the men, that conquer by inheritance? The fortune-makers? these the Julians,

Enter CARATACH.

That with the sun measure the end of nature, Making the world but one Rome, and one Cæsar? | Shame, how they flee! Cæsar's soft soul dwells in them;

Their mothers got them sleeping, Pleasure nursed them;

Their bodies sweat with sweet oils, love's allurements,

Not lusty arms. Dare they send these to seek us, These Roman girls? is Britain grown so wanton? Twice we have beat them, Nennius, scattered them; And through their big-boned Germans, on whose pikes

The honour of their actions sits in triumph,

Made themes for songs to shame them: And a

woman,

A woman beat them, Nennius; a weak woman, A woman, beat these Romans!

Car. So it seems;

A man would shame to talk so. Bond. Who's that?

Car. I.

Bond. Cousin, do you grieve my fortunes?
Car. No, Bonduca;

If I grieve, it is the bearing of your fortunes:
You put too much wind to your sail; discretion
And hardy valour are the twins of honour,
And, nursed together, make a conqueror;
Divided, but a talker. 'Tis a truth,
That Rome has fled before us twice, and routed;
A truth we ought to crown the gods for, lady,
And not our tongues; a truth is none of ours,
Nor in our ends, more than the noble bearing;
For then it leaves to be a virtue, lady,
And we, that have been victors, beat ourselves,
When we insult upon our honour's subject.

Bond. My valiant cousin, is it foul to say
What liberty and honour bid us do,
And what the gods allow us?

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Bond. They are no more.

Car. Where is your conquest then? Why are your altars crowned with wreaths of flowers?

The beasts with gilt horns waiting for the fire? The holy Druides composing songs

Of everlasting life to victory?

Why are these triumphs, lady? for a May-game?
For hunting a poor herd of wretched Romans?
Is it no more? Shut up your temples, Britons,
And let the husbandman redeem his heifers,
Put out our holy fires, no timbrel ring,
Let's home and sleep; for such great overthrows
A candle burns too bright a sacrifice,
A glow-worm's tail too full of flame.
nius,

Oh, Nen

Thou hadst a noble uncle, knew a Roman, And how to speak him, how to give him weight In both his fortunes.

Bond. By the gods, I think

You doat upon these Romans, Caratach!

Car. Witness these wounds, I do; they were fairly given:

I love an enemy; I was born a soldier;

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Bond. What?

Car. Disheartened,

Run, run, Bonduca! not the quick rack swifter;
The virgin from the hated ravisher

Not half so fearful; not a flight drawn home,
A round stone from a sling, a lover's wish,
E'er made that haste, that they have. By the gods,
I've seen these Britons, that you magnify,
Run as they would have out-run time, and roar-
ing,

Basely for mercy roaring; the light shadows,
That in a thought scur o'er the fields of corn,
Halted on crutches to them.

Bond. Oh, ye powers,

What scandals do I suffer!
Car. Yes, Bonduca,

I've seen thee run too; and thee, Nennius;
Yea, run apace, both; then, when Penius
(The Roman girl!) cut through your armed carts,
And drove them headlong on ye, down the hill;
Then, when he hunted ye like Britain foxes,
More by the scent than sight; then did I see
These valiant and approved men of Britain,
Like boding owls, creep into tods of ivy,
And hoot their fears to one another nightly.
Nen. And what did you then, Caratach?
Car. I filed too,

But not so fast; your jewel had been lost then,
Young Hengo there; he trasht me, Nennius:

And he that in the head of his troop defies For, when your fears out-run him, then stept I,

me,

Bending my manly body with his sword,
I make a mistress. Yellow-tressed Hymen
Ne'er tied a longing virgin with more joy,
Than I am married to that man, that wounds me:
And are not all these Roman? Ten struck battles
I sucked these honoured scars from, and all
Roman;

Ten years of bitter nights and heavy marches,
(When many a frozen storm sung through my
cuirass,

And made it doubtful, whether that or I
Were the more stubborn metal) have I wrought
through,

And all to try these Romans. Ten times a-night
I have swam the rivers, when the stars of Rome
Shot at me as I floated, and the billows
Tumbled their watry ruins on my shoulders,
Charging my battered sides with troops of agues;
And still to try these Romans, whom I found
(And, if I lie, my wounds be henceforth back-
ward,

And be you witness, gods, and all my dangers)
As ready, and as full of that I brought,
(Which was not fear, nor flight) as valiant,
As vigilant, as wise, to do and suffer,
Ever advanced as forward as the Britons,
Their sleeps as short, their hopes as high as ours,
Ay, and as subtle, lady. 'Tis dishonour,
And, followed, will be impudence, Bonduca,
And grow to no belief, to taint these Romans.
Have not I seen the Britons-

And in the head of all the Roman fury
Took him, and, with my tough belt, to my back
I buckled him; behind him, my sure shield;
And then I followed. If I say I fought
Five times in bringing off this bud of Britain,
I lie not, Nennius. Neither had you heard
Me speak this, or ever seen the child more,
But that the son of virtue, Penius,
Seeing me steer through all these storms of danger,
My helm still in my hand (my sword), my prow
Turned to my foe (my face), he cried out nobly,
'Go, Briton, bear thy lion's whelp off safely;
Thy manly sword has ransomed thee; grow strong,
And let me meet thee once again in arms;
Then, if thou standest, thou art mine.' I took his
offer,

And here I am to honour him.

Bond. Oh, cousin,

From what a flight of honour hast thou checked me!

What wouldst thou make me, Caratach?
Cur. See, lady,

The noble use of others in our losses.
Does this afflict you? Had the Romans cried this,
And, as we have done theirs, sung out these

fortunes,

Railed on our base condition, hooted at us, Made marks as far as the earth was ours, to

shew us

Nothing but sea could stop our flights, despised

us,

And held it equal, whether banquetting

Or beating of the Britons were more business,
It would have galled you.

Bond. Let me think we conquered.
Car. Do; but so think, as we may be conquered;
And, where we have found virtue, though in
those,

That came to make us slaves, let's cherish it. There's not a blow we gave, since Julius landed, That was of strength and worth, but like records, They file to after-ages. Our registers

The Romans are, for noble deeds of honour; And shall we brand their mentions with upbraidings?

Bond. No more; I see myself. Thou hast made me, cousin,

More than my fortunes durst; for they abused

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nours,

And with those swords, that know no end of battle: Those men, beside themselves, allow no neighbour;

Those minds, that where the day is, claim inheritance,

And where the sun makes ripe the fruits, their harvest,

And where they march, but measure out more ground

To add to Rome, and here in the bowels on us;
It must not be. No, as they are our foes,
And those, that must be so, untill we tire them,
Let's use the peace of honour, that's fair dealing,
But in our hands our swords. That hardy Roman,
That hopes to graft himself into my stock,
Must first begin his kindred under-ground,
And be allied in ashes.

Bond. Caratach,

As thou hast nobly spoken, shall be done;
And Hengo to thy charge I here deliver:
The Romans shall have worthy wars.
Car. They shall:

And, little sir, when your young bones grow stif fer,

And when I see you able in a morning

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Enter JUNIUS and PETILLIUS.

[Exeunt.

Pet. What ail'st thou, man? dost thou want meat? Jun. No.

Pet. Clothes?

Jun. Neither. For heaven's love, leave me ! Pet. Drink?

Jun. You tire me.

Pet. Come, it is drink; I know it is drink.
Jun. 'Tis no drink.

Pet. I say, it is drink; for what affliction
Can light so heavy on a soldier,
To dry him up as thou art, but no drink?
Thou shalt have drink.

Jun. Prithee, Petillius

Pet. And, by mine honour, much drink, valiant drink:

Never tell me, thou shalt have drink. I see,
Like a true friend, into thy wants; it is drink;
And, when I leave thee to a desolation,
Especially of that dry nature, hàng me.
Jun. Why do you do this to me?
Pet. For I see,

Although your modesty would fain conceal it,
Which sits as sweetly on a soldier
As an old side-saddle-

Jun. What do you see?

Pet. I see as fair as day, that thou wantest

drink.

Did I not find thee gaping, like an oyster
For a new tide? Thy very thoughts lie bare,
Like a low ebb; thy soul, that rid in sack,
Lies moored for want of liquor. Do but see
Into thyself; for, by the gods, I do;
For all thy body's chapped and cracked like timber,
For want of moisture: What is it thou wantest
there, Junius,

An if it be not drinking?

Jun. You have too much of it.

Pet. No, it shall never be said in our country, Thou died of the chin-cough. Hear, thou noble

Roman,

The son of her that loves a soldier,
Hear what I promised for thee! thus I said:
Lady, I take thy son to my companion;
Lady, I love thy son, thy son loves war,

The war loves danger, danger drink, drink dis- | (For understand them French beans, where the cipline,

Which is society and lechery;

These two beget commanders: Fear not, lady;

Thy son shall lead.

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And any way, of any subject, Junius,

Is better than unmanly mustiness.

What harm is in drink? in a good wholesome wench?

I do beseech you, sir, what error? Yet

It cannot out of my head handsomely,

fruits

Are ripened like the people, in old tubs)

For mine own part, I say, I am starved already,
Not worth another bean, consumed to nothing,
Nothing but flesh and bones left, miserable:
Now, if this musty provender can prick me
To honourable matters of atchievement, gentle-

men,

Why, there is the point.

4 Sold. I'll fight no more. Pet. You'll hang then!

A sovereign help for hunger. Ye eating rascals, Whose gods are beef and brewis! whose brave

angers

But thou wouldst fain be drunk: come, no more Do execution upon these, and chibbals! fooling;

The general has new wine, new come over.

Ye dog's heads in the porridge-pot! ye fight no
more?

Jun. He must have new acquaintance for it too, Does Rome depend upon your resolution
For I will none, I thank

ye.

Pet. None, I thank you?

A short and touchy answer! None, I thank you?'

You do not scorn it, do you?

Jun. Gods defend you, sir!

I owe him still more honour.

Pet. None, I thank you?'

For eating mouldy pye-crust?

3 Sold. Would we had it!
Judas. I may do service, captain.

Pet. In a fish-market.

You, corporal Curry-comb, what will your fighting Profit the commonwealth? do you hope to triumph?

No company, no drink, no wench, I thank you? Or dare your vamping valour, goodman Cobler,

You shall be worse entreated, sir.

Jun. Petillius,

As thou art honest, leave me !

Pet. None, I thank you?

A modest and a decent resolution,

And well put on. Yes; I will leave you, Junius,
And leave you to the boys, that very shortly
Shall all salute you, by your new sirname,

Of Junius None I thank you." I would starve

now,

Hang, drown, despair, deserve the forks, lie open
To all the dangerous passes of a wench,
Bound to believe her tears, wed her aches,
Ere I would own thy follies. I have found you,
Your lays, and out-leaps, Junius, haunts, and
lodges;

I have viewed you, and I have found you, by my skill,

To be a fool of the first head, Junius,
And I will hunt you: You are in love, I know it;
You are an ass, and all the camp shall know it;
A peevish idle boy, your dame shall know it;
A wronger of my care, yourself shall know it.

Enter JUDAS and four Soldiers.

Judas. A bean? a princely diet, a full banquet, To what we compass.

1 Sold. Fight like hogs for acorns?

2. Sold. Venture our lives for pig-nuts? Pet. What ail these rascals?

8 Sold. If this hold, we are starved.

Judas. For my part, friends,

Which is but twenty beans a day (a hard world For officers, and men of action!),

And those so clipt by master mouse, and rotten—

Clap a new sole to the kingdom? 'Sdeath, ye dogwhelps,

You fight, or not fight?
Judas. Captain!

Pet. Out, ye flesh-flies!
Nothing but noise and nastiness!
Judas. Give us meat,
Whereby we may do.

Pet. Whereby hangs your valour?
Judas. Good bits afford good blows.
Pet. A good position;

How long is it since thou eatest last? Wipe thy mouth,

And then tell truth.

Judas. I have not eat to the purpose-
Pet. To the purpose! what is that? half a
cow and garlic?

Ye rogues, my company eat turf, and talk not;
Timber they can digest, and fight upon it;
Old mats, and mud with spoons, rare meats.
Your shoes, slaves;

Dare ye cry out for hunger, and those extant?
Suck
your sword-hilts, ye slaves; if ye be valiant,
Honour will make them marchpane. To the
purpose?'

A grievous penance! Dost thou see that gentle

man,

That melancholy monsieur !

Jun. Pray you, Petillius!

Pet. He has not eat these three weeks.

2 Sold. He has drunk the more then.

3 Sold. And that is all one.

Pet. Nor drunk nor slept these two months. Judas. Captain, we do beseech you, as poor soldiers,

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Judas. Alas, he lives by love, sir. [Exit Junius.
Pet. So he does, sir;

And cannot you do so too? All my company
Are now in love; ne'er think of meat, nor talk
Of what provant is: Ay me's! and hearty hey hoes!
Are sallads fit for soldiers. Live by meat?
By larding up your bodies? 'tis lewd, and lazy,
And shews ye merely mortal, dull, and drives ye
To fight like camels, with baskets at your noses.
Get ye in love! handsomely

Fall but in love now, as ye see example,
And follow it but with all your thoughts, proba-
tum,

There is so much charge saved, and your hunger's ended. [Drum afar off. Away! I hear the general. Get ye in love all, Up to the ears in love, that I may hear No more of these rude murmurings; and discreetly

Carry your stomachs, or I prophesy

A pickled rope will choke ye. Jog, and talk not!

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter SUETONIUS, DEMETRIUS, DECIUS, drum and colours.

Suet. Demetrius, is the messenger dispatched To Penius, to command him to bring up The Volans regiment?

Dem. He is there by this time.

Suet. And are the horse well viewed, we brought from Mona?

Dec. The troops are full and lusty.

Suet. Good Petillius,

Look to those eating rogues, that bawl for victuals,

And stop their throats a day or two: Provision Waits but the wind to reach us.

Pet. Sir, already

I have been tampering with their stomachs, which I find

As deaf as adders to delays: Your clemency Hath made their murmurs, mutinies; nay rebellions;

Now, an they want but mustard, they are in uproars!

No oil but Candy, Lusitanian figs,

And wine from Lesbos, now can satisfy them; The British waters are grown dull and muddy, The fruit disgustful; Orontes must be sought for, And apples from the happy isles; the truth is, They are more curious now, in having nothing, Than if the sea and land turned up their trea

sures.

This lost the colonies, and gave Bonduca
(With shame we must record it) time and strength
To look into our fortunes; great discretion
To follow offered victory; and last, full pride
To brave us to our teeth, and scorn our ruins.

Suet. Nay, chide not, good Petillius! I confess
My will to conquer Mona, and long stay
To execute that will, let in these losses:
All shall be right again, and as a pine
Rent from Oeta by a sweeping tempest,
Jointed again, and made a mast, defies
Those angry winds, that split him; so will I,
Pieced to my never-failing strength and fortune,
Steer through these swelling dangers, plow their
prides up,

And bear like thunder through their loudest tempests.

They keep the field still?

Dem. Confident and full.

Pet. In such a number, one would swear they grew :

The hills are wooded with their partizans,
And all the vallies overgrown with darts,
As moors are with rank rushes; no ground
left us

To charge upon, no room to strike. Say fortune
And our endeavours bring us into them,
They are so infinite, so ever-springing,
We shall be killed with killing; of desperate

women,

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