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're a gentleman I ho

nour;

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's hanged preaches his end,

And sits a sign for all the world to gape at. Pen. That's 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,

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 within. 'Tis done before he comes. This way for me, The of toil; for thee, the way of honour! [Exit.

way

Enter DRUSIUS und REGULUS, with soldiers.
Sold. Kill him, kill him, kill him!
Drus. What will ye do?

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,

sword;

Your sword's a death indeed!

Pen. It shall be sharp, sir,

Pet. Why, Mithridates was an arrant 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; Command thyself, and then thy men. Why sha

kest thou?

Pet. I do not, sir.

Pen. I would thou hadst, Petillius:

I would find something to forsake the world with,
Worthy the man that dies: a kind of earthquake
Through all stern valours but mine own.
Pet. I feel now

A kind of trembling in me.

Pen. Keep it still;

As thou lov'st virtue, keep it.

Pet. And, brave captain,

The great and honoured Penius!

Pen. That again!

Ye most approved soldiers, her dear children Devoured the fathers of the fights? shall rage And stubborn fury guide those swords to slaughter,

To slaughter of their own, to civil ruin?

Drus. Oh, let them in; all's done, all's ended,
Regulus;

Penius has found his last eclipse. Come, soldiers,

Come, and behold your miseries; come bravely,
Full of your mutinous and bloody angers,
And here bestow your darts. Oh, only Roman!
Oh, father of the wars!

Reg. Why stand ye stupid?

Where be your killing furies? whose sword now
Shall first be sheathed in Penius? Do ye weep?
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?

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 bless'd household gods

See naught but chaste and simple purity.
'Tis not high power that makes a place divine,
Nor that the men 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.

. Enter DECIUS.

Dec. There is a breach made; Is it your will we charge, sir? Suet. 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 'scape 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.

Jun. Ye good gods, I thank ye! Where few of these must come.

Nen. Gods take thee, lady! [Exit NENNIUS. Bond. Bring up the swords, and poison.

Enter one with Swords and a Great Cup. 2 Daugh. Oh, my fortune! Bond. How, how, ye whore?

2 Daugh. Good mother, nothing to offend you. Bond. Here, wench; Behold us, Romans!

learn

1 Daugh. I will--could not entice to live, But two short hours, this frailty. Would ye How to die bravely, Romans, to fling off This case of flesh, lose all your cares for ever? Live, as we have done, well, and fear the gods; Hunt honour, and not nations, with your swords : Keep your minds humble, your devotions high; So shall ye learn the noblest part, to die. [Dies. Bond. I come, wench.-To ye all, Fate's hang

Could I now rack ye ! But I pity ye,
Desiring to die quiet: Nay, so much
I hate to prosecute my victory,

That I will give ye counsel ere I die:

If you will keep your laws and empire whole, Place in your Roman flesh, a Briton soul. [Dies. Enter DECIUS.

Suet. Desperate and strange!

Dec. 'Tis won, sir, and the Britons All put to the sword.

Suet. Give her fair funeral;

She was truly noble, and a queen.
Pet. Pox take it,

A love-mange grown upon me? What a spirit !
Jun. I am glad of this! I have found you.
Pet. In my belly,

Oh, how it tumbles!

Jun. Ye good gods, I thank ye!

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

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'st 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.

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 you on to victories! by those glories,
Which made even pride a virtue in ye!
Drus. Stay.

What's 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 worth, sleep peaceably;
Happiness crown thy soul, and in thy earth
Some laurel fix his seat, 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?

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

Was such another piece of endless honour,
Such a brave soul dwelt in him; their proportions
And faces were not much unlike, boy. Excel-

lent nature!

Pet. What do I ail, i̇'th' name of heaven? I
did but see her

And see her die; she stinks by this time strongly,
Abominably stinks. She was a woman,
A thing I never cared for: but to die so,
So confidently, bravely, strongly-Oh, the devil,
I have the bots! by heaven, she scorned us
strangely,

All we could do, or durst do: theatened us
With such a noble anger, and so governed
With such a fiery spirit-The plain bots!
A pox upon the bots, the love-bots! Hang me,
Hang me even out o'th' way, directly hang me!
Oh, penny pipers, and most painful penners
Of bountiful new ballads, what a subject,
What a sweet subject for your silver sounds,
Is crept upon ye!

Enter JUNIUS.

Jun. Here he is; have at him!

She set the sword unto her breast,

Great pity it was to see,

Jun. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
Pet. Why dost thou laugh?
What mare's nest hast thou found?
Jun. Ha, ha, ha!

I cannot laugh alone: Decius! Demetrius !
Curius! oh, my sides! ha, ha, ha, ha!
The strangest jest!

Pet. Prithee no more.

Jun. The admirablest fooling!

Pet. Thou art the prettiest fellow!
Jun. Sirs!

Pet. Why, Junius,

Prithee away, sweet Junius!

Jun. Let me sing then.

of

Pet. Whoa, here's a stir now! Sing a song o sixpence !

By heaven, if-prithee--pox on't, Junius!
Jun. I must either sing or laugh.

Pet. And what's your reason?

Jun. What's that to you?

Fet. And I must whistle.

That three drops of her life-warm blood,
Run trickling down her knee.

Art thou there, bonny boy? And, in faith, how dost thou?

Pet. Well, gramercy; how dost thou? He has found me,

Scented me out; the shame the devil owed me, He has kept his day with. And what news, Junius?

Jun. It was an old tale ten thousand times told, Of a young lady was turned into mould, Her life it was lovely, her death it was bold. Pet. A cruel rogue! now he has drawn pur

suit on me,

He hunts me like a devil. No more singing! Thou hast got a cold: Come, let us go drink some sack, boy.