It cannot be he dare out-live this fortune;
He must die, 'tis most necessary; men expect it,
And thought of life in him goes beyond coward.
Forsake the field so basely? Fy upon it!
So poorly to betray his worth, so coldly
To cut all credit from the soldier? Sure
If this man mean to live, (as I should think it
Beyond belief) he must retire, where never
The name of Rome, the voice of arms, or honour,
Was known or heard of yet. He's certain dead,
Or strongly means it; he's no soldier else,
No Roman in him; all he has done but outside,
Fought either drunk or desperate. Now he rises.
How does lord Penius?

Pen. As you see.

Pet. I'm glad on't;

Continue so still. The lord general,
The valiant general, great Suetonius-
Pen. No more of me is spoken; my name is
perished.

Pet. He that commanded fortune and the day, By his own valour and discretion,

(When, as some say, Penius refused to come, But I believe them not) sent me to see you. Pen. Ye are welcome; and pray see me, see me well;

You shall not see me long.

Pet. I hope so, Penius.The gods defend, sir!

Pen. See me and understand me: This is he, Left to fill up your triumph; he, that basely Whistled his honour off to the wind, that coldly Shrunk in his politic head, when Rome, like

And bring along all comfort: Are we gods,
Allied to no infirmities? are our natures
More than men's natures? When we slip a little
Out of the way of virtue, are we lost?
Is there no medicine called sweet mercy?
Pen. None, Petillius;

There is no mercy in mankind can reach me,
Nor is it fit it should; I've sinned beyond it.
Pet. Forgiveness meets with all faults.
Pen. 'Tis all faults,

All sins I can commit, to be forgiven;
'Tis loss of whole man in me, iny discretion,
To be so stupid, to arrive at pardon!
Pet. Oh, but the general-

Pen. He is a brave gentleman,

A valiant, and a loving; and, I dare say,
He would, as far as honour durst direct him,
Make even with my fault; but 'tis not honest,
Nor in his power: examples, that may nourish
Neglect and disobedience in whole bodies,
And totter the estates and faiths of armies,
Must not be played withal; nor out of pity
Make a general forget his duty;

Nor dare I hope more from him than is worthy.
Pet. What would you do?
Pen. Die.

Pet. So would sullen children,
Women that want their wills, slaves disobedient,
That fear the law. Die? Fy, great captain! you
A man to rule men, to have thousand lives
Under your regiment, and let your passion
Betray your reason? I bring you all forgiveness,
The noblest kind commends, your place, your
honour-

Pen. Prithee no more; tis foolish. Didst not

thou

Pen. And thou didst it nobly,

Like a true man, a soldier; and I thank thee, I thank thee, good Petillius, thus I thank thee! Pet. Since you are so justly made up, let me tell you, 'Tis fit you die indced.

Pen. Oh, how thou lovest me!

Pet. For say he had forgiven you, say the people's whispers

Were tame again, the time run out for wonder, What must your own command think, from whose swords

You have taken off the edges, from whose valours The due and recompense of arms; nay, made it

doubtful

Whether they knew obedience! must not these kill you?

Say they are won to pardon you, by mere miracle |
Brought to forgive you, what old valiant soldier,
What man that loves to fight, and fight for Rome,
Will ever follow you more! Dare you know these
ventures?

If so, I bring you comfort; dare you take it?
Pen. No, no, Petillius, no.

Pet. If your mind serve you,
You may live still; but how? yet pardon me :
You may out-wear all too; but when? and cer-
tain

There is a mercy for each fault, if tamely
A man will take it upon conditions.

Pen. No, by no ineans: I am only thinking now, sir,

(For I am resolved to go) of a most base death, Fitting the baseness of my fault. I'll hang.

Pet. You shall not; you are a gentleman I honour;

I would else flatter you, and force you live, Which is far baser. Hanging? 'tis a dog's death, An end for slaves.

Pen. The fitter for my baseness.

Pet. Besides, the man, that is hanged, preaches his end,

And sits a sign for all the world to gape at.

Pen. That is true; I'll take a fitter: poison.
Pet. No,

'Tis equal ill; the death of rats and women,
Lovers, and lazy boys, that fear correction;
Die like a man.

Pen. Why, my sword, then.

Pet. Ay, if your sword be sharp, sir,

There is nothing under heaven that's like your sword;

Your sword is a death indeed!

Pen. It shall be sharp, sir.

Pet. Why, Mithridates was an arrànt ass To die by poison, if all Bosphorus

Could lend him swords: Your sword must do the deed;

Tis shame to die choaked, fame to die and bleed. Pen. Thou hast confirmed me; and, my good Petillius,

Tell me no more I may live.

Pet. 'Twas my commission;

But now I see you in a nobler way,

A way to make all even.

Pen. Farewell, captain!

Be a good man, and fight well; be obedient;

The great and honoured Penius!-
Pen. That again!

Oh, how it heightens me! again, Petillius!
Pet. Most excellent commander!-
Pen. Those were mine,

Mine, only mine!

Pet. They are still.

Pen. Then, to keep them

From ever falling more, have at ye! Heavens,
Ye everlasting powers, I'm yours: The work is
done,
[Kills himself.
That neither fire, nor age, nor melting envy,
Shall ever conquer. Carry my last words
To the great general: kiss his hands, and say,
My soul I give to Heaven, my fault to justice,
Which I have done upon myself; my virtue,
If ever there was any in poor Penius,
Made more, and happier, light on him!—I faint—
And where there is a foe, I wish him fortune.
I die. Lie lightly on my ashes, gentle earth! [Dies.
Pet. And on my sin! Farewell, great Penius!
The soldier is in fury; now I'm glad [Noise wi-
thin.
Tis done before he comes. This way for me,
The of toil; for thee, the way of honour!
[Exit.
Enter DRUSIUS and REGULUS, with soldiers.
Sold. Kill him, kill him, kill him!
Drus. What will ye do?

way

Reg. Good soldiers, honest soldiers-
Sold. Kill him, kill him, kill him!

Drus. Kill us first; we command too.
Reg. Valiant soldiers,

Consider but whose life ye seek.-Oh, Drusius,
Bid him be gone; he dies else.-Shall Rome say,
Ye most approved soldiers, her dear children
Devoured the fathers of the fight? shall rage
And stubborn fury guide those swords to slaugh-

kest thou?

Howl out, ye wretches! ye have cause; howl ever!
Who shall now lead ye fortunate? whose valour
Preserve ye to the glory of your country?
Who shall march out before ye, coyed and courted
By all the mistresses of war, Care, Counsel,
Quick-eyed Experience, and Victory twined to
him?

Who shall beget ye deeds beyond inheritance
To speak your names, and keep your honours li

him,

Build houses for ye to oblivion?

Drus. Oh, ye poor desperate fools, no more now soldiers,

Go home, and hang your arms up; let rust rot them;

your

virtues;

And humble your stern valours to soft prayers!
For have sunk the frame of all
ye
The sun, that warmed your bloods, is set for ever.
I'll kiss thy honoured cheek. Farewell, great Pe-
nius,

Thou thunderbolt, farewell!-Take up the body:
To-morrow, mourning, to the camp convey it,
There to receive due ceremonies.
That eye
That blinds itself with weeping, gets most glory.
[Exeunt with a dead march.

Enter SUETONIS, JUNIUS, DECIUS, DEMETRIUS,
CURIUS, and Soldiers: BONDUCA, two Daugh-
ters, and NENNIUS above. Drum and colours.
Suet. Bring up the catapults, and shake the wall;
We will not be outbraved thus.

We love thy nobleness.

[Exit Decius.

Bond. I thank ye! ye say well;
But mercy and love are sins in Rome and hell.
Suet. You cannot escape our strength; you
must yield, lady;

You must adore and fear the power of Rome.
Bond. If Rome be earthly, why should any knee
With bending adoration worship her?
She's vicious; and, your partial selves confess,
Aspires the height of all impiety;
Therefore 'tis fitter I should reverence

The thatched houses, where the Britons dwell
In careless mirth; where the blessed household
gods

See nought but chaste and simple purity.
'Tis not high power that makes a place divine,
Nor that the inen from gods derive their line;
But sacred thoughts, in holy bosoms stored,
Make people noble, and the place adored,
Suet. Beat the wall deeper!
Bond. Beat it to the centre,

We will not sink one thought.

Suet, I'll make ye.

Bond. No.

Enter DECIUS.

Dec. There is a breach made; Is it your will we charge, sir? Suct. Once more, mercy, Mercy to all that yield!

Bond. I scorn to answer; Speak to him, girl, and hear thy sister.

1 Daugh. General,

Hear me, and mark me well, and look upon me,
Directly in my face, my woman's face,
Whose only beauty is the hate it bears ye;
See with thy narrowest eyes, thy sharpest wishes,
Into my soul, and see what there inhabits;
See if one fear, one shadow of a terror,
One paleness dare appear but from my anger,
To lay hold on your mercies. No, ye fools,
Poor Fortune's fools, we were not born for tri-
umphs,

To follow your gay sports, and fill your slaves
With hoots and acclamations.

Pet. Brave behaviour!

1 Daugh. The children of as great as Rome, as noble,

Our names before her, and our deeds her envy,
Must we gild o'er your conquest, make your state,
That is not fairly strong, but fortunate?
No, no, ye Romans! We have ways to escape ye,
To make ye poor again, indeed our prisoners,
And stick our triumphs full.

Pet. 'Sdeath, I shall love her.

1 Daugh. To torture ye with suffering, like our slaves;

To make ye curse our patience, wish the world Were lost again, to win us only, and esteem The end of all ambitions.

Bond. Do ye wonder?

speak gently

A pitch above ye; and from our heart we'll stoop

CARATACH upon a rock, and HENGO by him sleeping.

Car. Thus we afflicted Britons climb for safeties,

And to avoid our dangers, seek destructions;
Thus we awake to sorrows. Oh, thou woman,
Thou agent for adversities, what curses
This day belong to thy improvidence!
To Britain, by thy means, what sad millions
Of widows' weeping eyes! The strong man's va-
lour

Thou hast betrayed to fury, the child's fortune
To fear, and want of friends, whose pieties
Might wipe his mournings off, and build his sor-

rows

A house of rest by his blessed ancestors:
The virgins thou hast robbed of all their wishes,
Blasted their blowing hopes, turned their songs,
Their mirthful marriage-songs, to funerals;
The land thou hast left a wilderness of wretches.
The boy begins to stir; thy safety made,
'Would my
soul were in Heaven!

Hengo. Oh, noble uncle,

Look out; I dreamed we were betrayed.

Car. No harm, boy; [A soft dead march within. 'Tis but thy emptiness that breeds these fancies:

Thou shalt have meat anon.

Hengo. A little, uncle,

To be of eminence.-Most worthy soldiers,
Let me entreat your knowledge to inform me
What noble body that is, which you bear
With such a sad and ceremonious grief,
As if ye meant to woo the world and nature,
To be in love with death! Most honourable,
Excellent Romans, by your ancient valours,
As ye love fame, resolve me!

Sold. 'Tis the body

Of the great captain Penius, by himself
Made cold and spiritless.

* Car. Oh, stay, ye Romans,

By the religion, which ye owe those gods,
That lead ye on to victories! by those glories,
Which made even pride a virtue in ye!
Drus. Stay.

What is thy will, Caratach?

Car. Set down the body,

The body of the noblest of all Romans;
As ye expect an offering at your graves
From your friends' sorrows, set it down awhile,
That with your griefs an enemy may mingle,
(A noble enemy, that loves a soldier)

And lend a tear to virtue! Even your foes,
Your wild foes, as you called us, are yet stored
With fair affections, our hearts fresh, our spirits,
Though sometime stubborn, yet when virtue dies,
Soft and relenting as a virgin's prayers:
Oh, set it down!

Drus. Set down the body, soldiers.

Car. Thou hallowed relic, thou rich diamond, Cut with thine own dust; thou, for whose wide fame

The world appears too narrow, man's all thoughts,
Had they all tongues, too silent: thus I bow
To thy most honoured ashes! Though an enemy,
Yet friend to all thy worths, sleep peaceably;
Happiness crown thy soul, and in thy earth
Some laurel fix his scat, there grow and flourish,
And make thy grave an everlasting triumph!
Farewell all glorious wars, now thou art gone,
And honest arms, adieu! All noble battles,
Maintained in thirst of honour, not of blood,
Farewell for ever!

Hengo. Was this Roman, uncle,
So good a man?

Car. Thou never knewest thy father.
Hengo. He died before I was born.
Car. This worthy Roman

Was such another piece of endless honour,