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? If I grieve, it is the bearing of your fortunes: Bond. My valiant cousin, is it foul to say 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? 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; Bond. What? Car. Disheartened, Run, run, Bonduca! not the quick rack swifter; Not half so fearful; not a flight drawn home, Basely for mercy roaring; the light shadows, Bond. Oh, ye powers, What scandals do I suffer! I've seen thee run too; and thee, Nennius; But not so fast; your jewel had been lost then, 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, Ten years of bitter nights and heavy marches, And made it doubtful, whether that or I And all to try these Romans. Ten times a-night And be you witness, gods, and all my dangers) And in the head of all the Roman fury 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? The noble use of others in our losses. 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, Bond. Let me think we conquered. 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 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; Bond. Caratach, As thou hast nobly spoken, shall be done; And, little sir, when your young bones grow stif fer, And when I see you able in a morning 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. Pet. I say, it is drink; for what affliction Jun. Prithee, Petillius Pet. And, by mine honour, much drink, valiant drink: Never tell me, thou shalt have drink. I see, Although your modesty would fain conceal it, 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 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, 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. 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, 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 Jun. He must have new acquaintance for it too, Does Rome depend upon your resolution 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! 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, Of Junius None I thank you." I would starve now, Hang, drown, despair, deserve the forks, lie open I have viewed you, and I have found you, by my skill, To be a fool of the first head, Junius, 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? Pet. Out, ye flesh-flies! Pet. Whereby hangs your valour? How long is it since thou eatest last? Wipe thy mouth, And then tell truth. Judas. I have not eat to the purpose- Ye rogues, my company eat turf, and talk not; Dare ye cry out for hunger, and those extant? 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, Judas. Alas, he lives by love, sir. [Exit Junius. And cannot you do so too? All my company Fall but in love now, as ye see example, 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 Suet. Nay, chide not, good Petillius! I confess 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, To charge upon, no room to strike. Say fortune women, |