ACT I., SCENE I.
Duke Nennius[261] alone.
Nen. Methinks I hear Bellona's dreadful voice
Redoubled from the concave shores of Gaul:
Methinks I hear their neighing steads, the groans
Of complimental souls taking their leave:
And all the dim and clamorous route which sounds
When falling kingdoms crack in fatal flames.
Die, Belgics,[262] die like men! Free minds need have
Nought but the ground they fight on for their grave:
And we are next. Think ye the smoky mist
Of sun-boil'd seas can stop the eagle's eye?[263]
Or can our wat'ry walls keep dangers out,
Which fly aloft, that thus we snorting lie,
Feeding imposthum'd humours, to be lanc'd
By some outlandish surgeon?
As they are now, whose flaming towns (like beacons)
Give us fair warning, and e'en gild our spires,
Whilst merrily we warm us at their fires.
Yet we are next: who, charm'd with peace and sloth,
Dream golden dreams. Go, warlike Britain, go,
For olive-bough exchange thy hazel-bow:
Hang up thy rusty helmet, that the bee
May have a hive, or spider find a loom:
Instead of soldiers' fare and lodging hard
(The bare ground being their bed and table), lie
Smother'd in down, melting in luxury:
Instead of bellowing drum[264] and cheerful flute,
Be lull'd in lady's lap with amorous lute.
But as for Nennius, know, I scorn this calm:
The ruddy planet at my birth bore sway,
(Sanguine) adust my humour; and wild-fire
(My ruling element), blood and rage, and choler,
Make up the temper of a captain's valour. [Exit.
SCENE II.
Julius Cæsar, Comius Volusenus, Laberius; Soldiers, with ensign, a two-necked eagle displayed sable, drum, ancient, trumpet. A flourish.
Cæs. Welcome thus far, partners of weal and woe,
Welcome, brave bloods! Now may our weapons sleep,
Since Ariovist in cock-boat basely flies;[265]
Vast Germany stands trembling at our bridge,[266]
And Gaul lies bleeding in her mother's lap.
Once the Pellæan duke did eastward march,[267]
To rouse the drowsy sun, before he rose,
Adorn'd with Indian rubies: but the main
Bade him retire. He was my type. This day
We stand on Nature's western brink; beyond,
Nothing but sea and sky. Here is nil ultra.
Democritus, make good thy fancy; give me
More worlds to conquer, which may be both seen
And won together. But methinks I ken
A whitish cloud kissing the waves, or else
Some chalky rocks surmount the barking flood.
Comius, your knowledge can correct our eyes.
Com. It is the Britain shore, which ten leagues hence
Displays her shining cliffs unto your sight.
Cæs. I'll hit the white.[268] That sea-mark for our ships
Invites destruction, and gives to our eye
A treacherous beck. Dare but resist, your shore
Shall paint her pale face with red crimson gore.
Com. Thus much I know, great Cæsar—that they lent
Their secret aid unto the neighbour Gauls;
Fostering their fugitives with friendly care:
Which made your victory fly with slower wing.
Cæs. That's cause enough. They shall not henceforth range
Abroad for war; we'll bring him to their doors.
His ugly idol shall displace their gods,
Their dear Penates, and in desolate streets
Raise trophies high of barbarous bones, whose stench
May poison all the rest. I long to stride
This Hellespont, or bridge it with a navy,
Disclosing to our empire unknown lands,
Until the arctic star for zenith stands.
Lab. Then raise the camp, and strike a dreadful march,
And unawares pour vengeance on their heads.
Be like the winged bolt of angry Jove,
Or chiding torrent, whose late-risen stream
From mountains' bended top runs raging down,
Deflow'ring all the virgin dales.
Cæs. First, let's advise; for soon to ruin come
Rash weapons, which lack counsel grave at home.
Lab. What need consulting where the cause is plain?
Cæs. The likeliest cause without regard proves vain.
Lab. Provide for battle, but of truce no word.
Cæs. Where peace is first refus'd, should come the sword.
Lab. But 'tis unlike their self-presuming might
Will curbed be with terms of civil right.
Cæs. 'Tis true: yet so we stop the people's cry,
When we propose, and they do peace deny.
We'll therefore wise embassadors despatch,
Parents of love, the harbingers of leagues;
Men that may speak with mildness mix'd with courage,
Having quick feet, broad eyes, short tongues, long ears,
To warn the British court.
And further view the ports, fathom the seas,
Learn their complotments, where invasion may
Be soonest entertain'd. All this shall lie
On Volusene, a legate and a spy.
Vol. My care and quickness shall deserve this kindness.
Meantime unite, and range your scatter'd troops:
Embark your legions at the Iccian shore,
And teach Erynnis[269] swim, which crawl'd before. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Cassibelanus, Androgeus, Tenantius, Belinus, Attendants.
Cas. Although the people's voice constrains me hold
This regal staff, whose massy weight would bruise
Your age and pleasures; yet this, nephews, know,
Your trouble less, your honour is the same,
As if you wore the diadem of this isle.
Meanwhile, Androgeus, hold unto your use
Our lady-city Troynovant,[270] and all
The toll and tribute of delicious Kent;
Of which each quarter can maintain a king.
Have you, Tenantius, Cornwall's dukedom large,
Both rich and strong in metals and in men.
I must to Verulam's fenc'd town repair,
And as protector for the whole take care.
And. My heart agrees. Henceforth, ye sovereign cares,
State mysteries, false graces, jealous fears,
The linings of a crown, forsake my brain:
These territories neither are too wide
To trouble my content, nor yet too narrow
To feed a princely train.
Ten. All thanks I render: your will shall guide ours;
With treble-twisted love we'll strive to make
One soul inform three bodies, keeping still
The same affections both in good and ill.
Now am I for a hunting-match. Yon thickets
Shelter a boar, which spoil's the ploughman's hope:
Whose jaws with double sword, whose back is arm'd
With bristled pikes; whose fume inflames the air,
And foam besnows the trampled corn. This beast
I long to see come smoking to a feast. [Exit Tenantius.
Enter Rollano.
Bel. Here comes my Belgic friend, Landora's servant.
What news, Rollano, that thy feet so strive
To have precedence of each other? Speak!
I read disturbed passions on thy brow.
Rol. My trembling heart quivers upon my tongue,
That scarce I can with broken sounds vent forth
These sad, strange, sudden, dreary, dismal news.
A merchant's ship arriv'd tells how the Roman,
Having run Gaul quite through with bloody arms,
Prepares for you: his navy, rigg'd in bay,
Only expects a gale. Farther, they say
A pinnace landed from him brings command
Either to lose your freedom or your land.
Cas. And dares proud Cæsar back our untam'd surges?
Dreads he not our sea-monsters, whose wild shapes
Their theatres ne'er yet in picture saw?
Come, sirs, to arms! to arms! Let speedy posts
Summon our petty kings, and muster up
Our valorous nations from the north and west.
Androgeus, haste you to the Scots and Picts,
Two names which now Albania's kingdom share:
Entreat their aid, if not for love, yet fear!
For new foes should imprint swift-equal fear
Through all the arteries of this our isle.
Belinus, thy authority must rouse
The vulgar troops within thy[271] special charge.
Fire [all] the beacons, strike alarums loud:
Raise all the country 'gainst this common foe.
We'll soon confront him in his full career:
This news more moves my choler than my fear. [Exeunt.
Rollano alone.
Rol. I am by birth a Belgic, whence I fled
To Germany for fear of Roman arms:
But when their bridge bridled the stately Rhine,
I soon return'd, and thought to hide my head
In this soft halcyon's nest, this Britain isle.
And now, behold, Mars is a-nursing here,
And 'gins to speak aloud.
Is no nook safe from Rome? Do they still haunt me?
Some peaceful god transport me through the air,
Beyond cold Thule[272] or the sun's bedchamber,
Where only swine or goats do live and reign.
Yet these may fight. Place me where quiet peace
Hushes all storms; where sleep and silence dwell,
Where never man nor beast did wrong the soil,
Or crop the first-fruits, or made so much noise
As with their breath. But, foolish thoughts, adieu:
Now catch I must, or stand or fall with you. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
Eulinus, Hirildas.
Eul. The court a wardrobe is of living shapes:
And ladies are the tissue-spangled suits,
Which Nature wears on festival high days.
The Court a spring: each madam is a rose.
The Court is heaven, fair ladies are the stars.[273]
Hir. Ay, falling stars.
Eul. False echo, don't blaspheme that glorious sex,
Whose beauteous rays can strike rash gazers blind.
Hir. Love should be blind.
Eul. Pray leave this cynic humour, whilst I sigh
My mistress' praise. Her beauty's past compare:
O, would she were more kind, or not so fair!
Her modest smiles both curb and kindle love.
The court is dark without her: when she rises,
The morning is her handmaid, strewing roses.
About love's hemisphere. The lamps above
Eclipse themselves for shame to see her eyes,
Outshine their chrysolites, and more bless the skies
Than they the earth.
Hir. Give me her name.
Eul. Her body is a crystal cage, whose pure
Transparent mould, not of gross elements
Compacted, but th' extracted quintessence
Of sweetest forms distill'd; whose graces bright
Do live immur'd, but not exempt from sight.
Hir. I prythee, speak her [name].
Eul. Her model is beyond all poets' brains
And painters' pencils: all the lively nymphs,
Syrens, and Dryads are but kitchen-maids,
If you compare. To frame the like Pandore,[274]
The gods repine, and nature would grow poor.
Hir. By love, who is't? hath she no mortal name?
Eul. For here you find great Juno's stately front,
Pallas' grey eye, Venus her dimpled chin,
Aurora's rosy fingers, the small waist
Of Ceres' daughter, and Medusa's hair,
Before it hiss'd.
Hir. O love, as deaf as thou art blind! Good Eulinus,
Call home thy soul, and tell thy mistress' name.
Eul. O strange! what, ignorant still! when as so plainly
These attributes describe her? Why, she is
A rhapsody of goddesses; the elixir
Of all their several perfections. She is
(Now bless your ears!) by mortals call'd Landora.
Hir. What! Landora, the Trinobantic lady?
How grow your hopes? what metal is her breast?
Eul. All steel and adamant. 'Tis beauty's pride to stain
Her lily white with blood of lovers slain,
Their groans make music, and their scalding sighs
Raise a perfume, and vulture-like she gnaws
Their bleeding hearts. No gifts, no learned flattery,
No stratagems, can work Landora's battery.
As a tall rock maintains majestic state,
Though Boreas gallop on the tottering seas,
And tilting split his froth out, spurging waves
Upon his surly breast; so she resists,
And all my projects on her cruel heart
Are but retorted to their author's smart.
Hir. Why, then, let scorn succeed thy love: and bravely
Conquer thyself, if thou wilt conquer her:
Stomachs with kindness cloy'd disdain must stir.
Eul. Most impious thoughts! O, let me rather perish,
And loving die, than living cease to love:
And when I faint, let her but hear my cry.
Ah me! there's none which truly loves, but I.
Hir. O ye cross darts of Cupid! this very lady,
This lady-wasp wooes me, as thou dost her,
With glances, jewels, bracelets of her hair,
Lascivious banquets and most eloquent eyes:
All which my heart misconstrues as immodest,
It being pointed for another pole.
But hence learn courage, coz. Why stand you dumb?
Women are women, and may be o'ercome.
Eul. Your words are earwigs to my vexed brain;
Like henbane juice or aconite diffus'd,
They strike me senseless.
My kinsman and Hirildas, to my end;
But I'll ne'er call you councillor or friend.
Adieu.
Hir. Stay, stay. For now I mean with gentler breath[275]
To waft you to your happy landing-place.
Seeing this crocodile pursues me flying,
Flies you pursuing, we'll catch her by a trick.
With promise feign'd I'll 'point a Cupid's stage,
But in the night and secret, and disguis'd,
Where thou, which art myself, shalt act my part.
In Venus' games all cosening goes for art.
Eul. Bless'd be these means, and happy the success!
Now 'gin I rear my crest above the moon.
And in those gilded books read lectures of
The feminine sex. There moves Cassiope,
Whose garments shine with thirteen precious stones,
Types of as many virtues: then her daughter,
Whose beauty without Perseus would have tam'd
The monstrous fish, glides with a starry crown:
Then just Astrea kembs her golden hair:
And my Landora can become the skies
As well as they. O, how my joys do swell!
He mounted not more proud whose burning throne
Kindled the cedar-tops, and quaff'd whole fountains,
Fly then, ye winged hours, as swift as thought
Or my desires: let day's bright waggoner
Fall headlong, and lie buried in the deep,
And (dormouse-like) Alcides night outsleep:
Good Tethys, quench his beams, that he ne'er rise
To scorch the Moors, to suck up honey-dews,
Or to betray my person.
But prythee, tell what mistress you adore?
Hir. The kind Cordelia, loving and belov'd:
Only some jar of late about a favour
Made me inveigh 'gainst women. Come away,
Our plots desire the night, not babbling day.
Eul. We must give way: here come our reverend bards
To sing in synod, as their custom is
With former chance comparing present deeds. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Chorus of five Bards-Laureate, four Voices, and a Harper; attired.
1. Song.
1. At the spring
Birds do sing:
Now with high,
Then low cry.
Flat, acute;
And salute,
The sun, born
Every morn.
All. He's no bard that cannot sing
The praises of the flow'ry spring.
2. Flora queen,
All in green,
Doth delight
To paint white,
And to spread
Cruel red
With a blue,
Colour true.
All. He's no bard, &c.
3. Woods renew
Hunter's hue.
Shepherd's grey
Crown'd with bay,
With his pipe
Care doth wipe,
Till he dream
By the stream.
All. He's no bard, &c.
4. Faithful loves,
Turtle-doves,
Sit and bill
On a hill.
Country swains
On the plains
Run and leap,
Turn and skip.
All. He's no bard, &c.
5. Pan doth play
Care away.
Fairies small,
Two foot tall,
With caps red
On their head,
Dance around
On the ground.
All. He's no bard, &c.
6. Phillis bright,
Cloth'd in white,
With neck fair,
Yellow hair,
Rocks doth move
With her love,
And make mild
Tigers wild.
All. He's no bard that cannot sing
The praises of the flow'ry spring.
2d Song.
Thus spend we time in laughter,
While peace and spring do smile;
But I hear a sound of slaughter
Draw nearer to our isle.
Leave then your wonted prattle,
The oaten reed forbear;
For I hear a sound of battle,
And trumpets tear the air.
Let bagpipes die for want of wind,
Let crowd[276] and harp be dumb:
Let little tabor come behind:
For I hear the dreadful drum.
Let no birds sing, no lambkins dance,
No fountains murmuring go:
Let shepherd's crook be made a lance.
For the martial horns do blow. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[260] Bring you back. Reduco, Lat.—Steevens.
[261] Dux Nennius. The leaders of armies are on this account styled Dukes by many of our ancient English translators; as Duke Æneas, Duke Hannibal, &c.—Steevens.
[262] [Natives of Gallia Belgica, a province comprising the Duchy of Treves, part of Luxembourg, and the departments of the Meuse, Moselle, Meurthe, and Vosges. Hazlitt's "Classical Gazetteer," 1851, p. 71.]
[263] The same turn of thought occurs in Mr Gray's celebrated ode called "The Bard"—
"Think'st thou yon sanguine cloud,
Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?"
—Steevens.
[264] Imitated from the first speech of Gloster in "King Richard III."
[265] "In bis fuit Ariovistus, qui naviculam deligatam ad ripam nactus ea profugit."—Cæsar "De Bello Gallico," lib. i. s. 53.
[266] See Cæsar "De Bello Gallico," lib, iv., s. 17, for an account of this bridge over the Rhine.
[267] Alexander the Great. Pella was a city of Macedon, where he was born.
[268] A term in archery.
[269] Erynnis is the common name of the sister Furies, but is frequently used by the poets for mischief in general.—Steevens.
[270] The ancient name of London.
[271] [Old copy, my.]
[272] There is no place oftener mentioned by the ancients than Thule, nor any one about the situation of which there has been a greater variety of opinions. Sir Robert Sibbald, in the additions to Camden, has given a discourse concerning the Thule of the ancients, in which the sentiments of different writers on this subject are considered, and many of them refuted. Camden supposes Shetland to be the place so often distinguished by the name of Thule; and Bishop Gibson appears to agree with him in the conjecture. See Camden's "Britannia." vol. ii. p. 411, edit. 1772.
[273] So in Shakespeare's "King Henry VIII."—
"These are stars indeed,
And sometimes falling ones."
—Steevens.
[274] Pandora was a woman formed by Vulcan, with the joint contribution of all the gods, every one of whom bestowed on her some grace or beauty.—Steevens.
[275] In the old copy the four last letters of breath have dropped out by accident, but they are no doubt rightly restored.—Collier.
[ACT II, SCENE I.]
Cassibelanus, Cridous, Britael, Guerthed, Nennius, Belinus, Eulinus. Volusenus following.
Cas. Heavens favour Cridous, fair Albania's king:
And Britael, deck'd with the Demetian crown:
The same to famous Guerthed, whose command
Embraces woody Ordovic's black hills.
Legate, you may your message now declare.
Vol. By me great Cæsar greets the Briton state:
This letter speaks the rest.
Cas. Then read the rest.
Volusenus reads.
"Cæsar, Proconsul of Gallia, to Cassibelane, King of Britain.
Since Romulus' race by will of Jove
Have stretch'd their empire wide
From Danube's banks (by Tigris swift)
Unto Mount Atlas' side:
And provinces and nations strong
With homage due obey;
We wish that you, hid in the sea,
Do likewise tribute pay.
Submitting all unto our wills
For rashly aiding Gaul:
And noble lads for hostages
Make ready at our call.
These granted may our friendship gain;
Denied shall work your woe.
Now take your choice, whether you'd find
Rome as a friend or foe."
Cas. Bold mandates are unwelcome to free princes.
Legate, withdraw; you shall be soon despatch'd.
[Exit Volusenus.
Cri. He writes more like a victor than a foe;
Whose greatness, risen from subdued nations,
Is fasten'd only with fear's slippery knot.
Nor can they fight so fierce for wealth or fame,
As we for native liberty. With answer rough
Bid him defiance. So thinks Cridous.
Guer. Guerthed maintains the same, and on their flesh
I'll write my answer in red characters.
Bri. Thou ravenous wolf, imperious monster, Rome,
Seven-headed Hydra, know, we scorn thy threats:
We can oppose thy hills with mounts as high,
And scourge usurpers with like cruelty.
And thus thinks Britael.
Eul. Let Cæsar come: our land doth rust with ease,
And wants an object, whose resisting power
May strike out valorous flashes from her veins.
So shadows give a picture life: so flames
Grow brighter by a fanning blast. Nor think
I am a courtier and no warrior born,
Nor love object; for well my poet says:[277]
Militat omnis amans, each lover is a soldier:
I can join Cupid's bow and Mars his lance.
A pewter-coat fits me as well as silk.
It grieves me see our martial spirits trace
The idle streets, while weapons by their side
Dangle and lash their backs, as 'twere to upbraid
Their needless use. Nor is it glory small
They set upon us last, when their proud arms
Fathom the land and seas, and reach both poles.
On, then; so great a foe, so good a cause,
Shall make our name more famous. So thinks Eulinus.
Cas. Then, friends and princes, on this blade take oath,[278]
First to your country to revenge her wrongs;
And next to me, as general, to be led
With unity and courage. [They kiss the sword.
All. The gods bless Britain and Cassibelane.
Nen. Now, royal friends, the heirs of mighty Brute,
You see what storm hangs hovering o'er this land,
Ready to pour down cataclysms[279] of blood:
Let ancient glory then inflame your hearts.
Beyond the craggy hills of grim-fac'd Death,
Bright Honour keeps triumphant court, and deeds
Of martial men live there in marble rolls.
Death is but Charon to the fortunate isles;
Porter to Fame.
What though the Roman, arm'd with foreign spoil,
Behind him lead the conquer'd world, and hope
To sink our island with his army's weight:
Yet we have gods and men and horse to fight,
And we can bravely die. But our just cause,
Your forward loves, and all our people edg'd
With Dardan[280] spirit and the powerful name
Of country, bid us hope for victory.
We have a world within ourselves, whose breast
No foreigner hath unrevenged press'd
These thousand years. Though Rhine and Rhone can serve,
And envy Thames his never captive stream,
Yet maugre all, if we ourselves are true,
We may despise what all the earth can do.[281]
Cas. Let's then dismiss the legate with a frown:
And draw our forces t'ward the sea, to join
With the four kings of Kent, and so affront[282]
His first arrival. But, before all, let
Our priests and Druids, in their hallow'd groves,
Propitiate the gods, and scan events
By their mysterious arts. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Eulinus, Hirildas, Rollano.
Hir. Well, so: your tongue's your own, though drunk or angry.
Rol. Umh! [Seals his mouth.
Hir. Speak not a word, upon your life: be dumb.
Rol. Umh! [Gives him money.
Hir. I'll winch up thy estate. Be Harpocrates.[283]
Rol. Umh!
Hir. Thy fortunes shall be double-gilt. Be midnight.
Rol. Umh!
Hir. An excellent instrument, to be the bawd
To his dear lady! But, Rollano, hark;
What words, what looks did give my letter welcome?
Rol. Umh!
Hir. Nay, now thy silence is antedated: speak.
Rol. Umh!
Hir. I give thee leave, I say. Speak, be not foolish.
Rol. Then, with your leave, she us'd, upon receipt,
No words, but silent joy purpl'd her face;
And seeing your name, straight clapp'd it to her heart,
To print there a new copy; as she'd say,
The words went by her eyes too long a way.
Hir. You told her my conditions, and my oath
Of silence, and that only you be used?
Rol. All, sir.
Hir. And that this night——
Rol. Ay, sir.
Hir. You guard the door——
Rol. Ay, sir.
Hir. But I ne'er mean to come.
Rol. No, sir? O wretch!
Shall I deceive, when she remains so true?
Hir. No. Thou shalt be true, and she remain deceiv'd.
I'll lie, and yet I will not lie. My friend
Eulinus, in my shape, shall climb her bed,
This is the point. You'll promise all your aid?
Rol. Your servant to command, and then reward.
Eul. We'll draw thee, meteor-like, by our warm favour,
Unto the roof and ceiling of the court:
We'll raise thee (hold but fast) on fortune's ladder. [Exit Rollano.
This fellow is a medley of most lewd
And vicious qualities: a braggart, yet a coward;
A knave, and yet a slave: true to all villany,
But false to goodness. Yet now I love him,
Because he stands just in the way of love.
Hir. Coz, I commend you to the Cyprian queen,
Whilst I attend Diana in the forest:
My kinsman Mandubrace and I must try
Our greyhounds' speed after a lightfoot hare.
[Exit Hirildas.
Eul. O love! whose nerves unite in equal bonds
This massy frame! thou cement of the world!
By which the orbs and elements agree,
By which all living creatures joy to be,
And dying live in their posterity.
Thy holy raptures warm each noble breast,
Sweetly inspiring more soul. Thy delight
Surpasses melody, nectar, and all pleasures
Of Tempe, and of Tempe's eldest sister,
Elysium: a banquet of all the senses!
By thy commanding power gods into beasts,
And men to gods, are chang'd, as poets say;
When sympathy rules, all like what they obey.
But love triumphs when man and woman meet
In full affection; double vows then fill
His sacred shrine. Yet this to me denied
More whets my passion: mutual love grows cold.
Venus, be thou propitious to my wiles,
And laugh at lovers' perjuries and guiles. [Exit.
SCENE III.
Lantonus, Hulacus, two Druids, in long robes; hats like pyramids, branches of misletoe.
Lan. That souls immortal are, I easily grant;
Their future state distinguish'd—joy or pain,
According to the merits of this life.
But then, I rather think, being free from prison
And bodily contagion, they subsist
In places fit for immaterial spirits;
Are not transfus'd from men to beasts, from beasts
To men again—wheel'd round about by change.
Hul. And were it not more cruel to turn out
Poor naked souls stripp'd of warm flesh (like land-lords),
Bidding them wander? then forsooth imagine
Some unknown cave or coast, whither all the myriads
Of souls deceas'd are shipp'd[284] and thrust together.
Nay, reason rather says, as at one moment
Some die, and some are born, so may their ghosts
Without more cost serve the succeeding age:
For (sure) they don't wear to be cast aside,
But enter straight less or more noble bodies,
According to desert of former deeds:
The valiant into lions; coward minds
Into weak hares; th' ambitious into eagles
Soaring aloft; but the perverse and peevish
Are next indeniz'd[285] into wrinkled apes,
Each vice and virtue wearing seemly shapes.
Lan. So you debase the gods' most lively image.
The human soul, and rank it with mere brutes,
Whose life, of reason void, ends with their sense.
Enter Belinus.
Bel. Hail to heaven's privy councillors! The king
Desires your judgment of these troublesome times.
Lan. The gods foretold these mischiefs long ago.
In Eldell's reign the earth and sky were fill'd
With prodigies, strange sights, and hellish shapes:
Sometimes two hosts with fiery lances met,
Armour and horse being heard amid the clouds:
With streamers red now march these airy warriors,
And then a sable hearse-cloth wraps up all;
And bloody drops speckled the grass, as falling
From their deep-wounded limbs:
Whilst staring comets[286] shook their flaming hair.
Thus all our wars were acted first on high,
And we taught what to look for.
Hul. Nature turns stepdame to her brood, and dams
Deny their monstrous issue. Saturn, join'd
In dismal league with Mars, portends some change.
Late in a grove, by night, a voice was heard
To cry aloud, Take heed: more Trojans come!
What may be known or done, we'll search, and help
With all religious care.
Bel. The king and army do expect as much:
That powers divine, perfum'd with odours sweet,
And feasted with the fat of bulls and rams,
Be pleas'd to bless their plots.
Lan. All rites and orisons due shall be perform'd:
Chiefly night's empress fourfold honour craves,
Mighty in heaven and hell, in woods and waves. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Cæsar, Volusenus, Laberius, Soldiers.
Cæs. What land, what people, and what answer, show.
Vol. We saw a paradise, whose bosom teems
With silver ore, whose seas are paved with pearl,
The meadows richly spread with Flora's tapestry;
The fields even wonder at their harvest-loads:
In crystal streams the scaly nations play,
Fring'd all along with trembling poplar trees.
The sun in summer, loth to leave their sight,
Forgets to sleep, and glancing makes no night.
Then, for the men, their stature's tall and big.
With blue-stain'd skins and long black dangling hair,
Promise a barbarous fierceness. They scarce know,
And much less fear our empire's might: but thus
Return'd defiance:—
"Cassibelane, King of Britain, to Julius Cæsar,[287] Proconsul of Gallia.
Seeing your empire's great, why should it not suffice?
To covet more and more is tyrants' usual guise.
To lose what Jove you gave, you'd think it but unjust;
You have your answer then; defend this isle we must:
Which from the world cut off, and free from her first day,
Hath iron more for swords than gold for tribute's pay.
If amity and like fear succour to Gaul imparts,
Pardon, for this small brook could not divide our hearts.
We hope the gods will help, and fortune back our cause,
Who take arms but to keep our lives, our wives, and laws.
As you from Troy, so we our pedigree do claim:
Why should the branches fight when as the root's the same?
Despise us not because the sea and north us close:
Who can no farther go, must turn upon their foes.
Thus rudely we conclude: wage war, or change your will,
We hope to use a lance far better than a quill."
Cæs. I grieve to draw my sword against the stock
Of thrice-renowned Troy; but they are rude,
And must be frighted, ere we shall be friends.
Then let's aboard, and (hoisting sails) convey
Two legions over; for I long to view
This unknown land and all their fabulous rites:
And gather margarites[288] in my brazen cap.
Nature nor fates can valorous virtue stop.
Lab. Now Cæsar speaks like Cæsar: stronger and stronger,
Rise like a whirlwind; tear the mountain's pride;
Shake thy brass harness, whose loud clattering may
Waken Gradivus[289], where he sleeps on top
Of Hæmus, lull'd with Boreas' roaring base,
And put to flight this nation with the noise.
A fly is not an eagle's combatant.
Nor may a pigmy with a giant strive. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Cassibelanus, Belinus; Comius following. Attendants.
Com. Health and good fortune on Cassibelane 'tend:
My love to you and Britain waft me hither
To make atonement, ere the Roman leader
Bring fire and spoil, and ruin on your heads.
No herb can ever grow where once he treads:
Nothing withstands his force. Be not too hardy,
But buy a friend with kindness, lest you buy
His anger dearly.
Cas. Comius, speak no more: he knows our mind.
Com. O, let not rage so blind your judgment, but
Prevent with ease the hazard of a war,
Of war, a word compos'd of thousand ills.
O, be not cruel to yourselves! I'll undertake
Without discredit to appease his wrath,
If you'll cashier your soldiers, and receive
Him like a guest, not like an enemy.
Cas. False-hearted Gaul, dar'st thou persuade e'en me
For to betray my people to the sword?
Now know I thou art sent for to solicit
Our princes to rebel, to learn our strength.
Lay hands on him! a spy!
All. A spy! a spy! a traitor and a spy!
[They chain him.
Com. Is this the guerdon[290] of my loving care?
You break the laws of nature, nations, friends.
But look for due revenge at Cæsar's hand.
Cas. Expect in prison thy revenge. Away with him!
[Exit Comius.
Belinus, have you muster'd up our forces?
Bel. Yes, if it please your highness.
Cas. And what are the particulars?
Bel. First Cridous leads from the Albanian realm,
Where Grampius' ridge divides the smiling dales,
Five thousand horse and twenty thousand foot,
Three thousand chariots mann'd. The Brigants come,
Deck'd with blue-painted shields, twelve thousand strong;
Under the conduct of Demetia's prince
March twice three thousand, armed with pelts[291] and glaves;[292]
Whom the Silures flank, eight thousand stout,
Greedy of fight, born soldiers the first day,
Whose grey-goose winged shafts ne'er flew in vain.
Then Guerthed, mounted on a shag-hair steed,
Full fifteen thousand brings, both horse and foot,
Of desperate Ordovicians, whose use is
To rush half-naked on their foes, enrag'd
With a rude noise of pipes.
Your province, bounded with that boiling stream[293]
Where Sabrine (lovely damsel) lost her breath,
And with curl'd-pated Humber, Neptune's heir,
Affords eight thousand cars, with hooks and scythes,
And fifty thousand expert men of war;
All brave Loëgrians, arm'd with pike and spear;
Each nation, being distinguish'd into troops,
With gaudy pennons flickering[294] in the air.
Besides these, Kent is up in arms to blunt
The edge of their first furious shock.
Cas. We'll now invite them to a martial feast,
Carving with falchions, and carousing healths
In their lives' moisture.
Enter Androgeus.
Well-returned, Androgeus:
Have you obtain'd, or is your suit denied?
And. Our message told unto the Scots; their king
With willing sympathy levies a band,
Ten thousand footmen, whose strange appetites
Murder and then devour; and dare gnaw and suck
Their enemies' bones. Conducted thence, we saw
The Pictish court, and friendly entertain'd,
Receive eight thousand, whose most ugly shapes,
Painted like bears and wolves, and brinded tigers,
May kill and stonify without all weapons.
More aid they promise, if more need. These forces,
Led by Cadallan, hither march with speed.
Cas. 'Tis well, our kings consent for common good.
When all are join'd, we shall o'erspread the hills,
And soldiers, thicker than the sand on shore,
Hide all the landing coasts. Ere next daybreak,
The rocks shall answer what the drum doth speak. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Hulacus, Lantonus, Ministers.
Lan. That ceremonious fear, which bends the heart
Of mortal creatures, and displays itself
In outward signs of true obedience,
As prayer, kneeling, sacrifice, and hymns,
Requires again help from immortal deities,
As promise, not as debt. We laud their names:
They give us blessings, and forgive our blames.
Thus gods and men do barter: what in piety
Ascends, as much descends again in pity;
A golden chain reaching from heaven to earth.
Hul. And now's the time, good brother, of their aid,
When danger's black face frowns upon our state.
Away, away, ye hearts and tongues profane!
Without devotion mysteries are vain.
[They kneel, elevate hands thrice.
Lan. Draw near, ye heavenly powers,
Who dwell in starry bowers;
And ye, who in the deep
On mossy pillows sleep;
And ye who keep the centre,
Where never light did enter;
And ye whose habitations
Are still among the nations;
To see and hear our doings,
Our births, our wars, our wooings:
Behold our present grief,
Belief doth beg relief.
Both going around say—
By the vervain and lunary,
By fern-seed planetary,
By the dreadful misletoe,
Which doth on holy oak grow,
Draw near, draw near, draw near!
Hul. Help us, beset with danger,
And turn away your anger;
Help us, begirt with trouble,
And now your mercy double:
Help us, oppress'd with sorrow,
And fight for us to-morrow.
Let fire consume the foeman,
Let air infect the Roman:
Let seas entomb their fury,
Let gaping earth them bury:
Let fire, and air, and water,
And earth, conspire their slaughter.
Both. By the vervain, &c.
Help us, help us, help us!
Lan. We'll praise then your great pow'r,
Each month, each day, each hour;
And blaze in lasting story
Your honour and your glory.
High altars lost in vapour,
Young heifers free from labour,
White lambs for suck still crying,
Shall make your music dying.
The boys and girls around,
With honeysuckles crown'd;
The bards with harp and rhyming,
Green bays their brows entwining,
Sweet tune and sweeter ditty,
Shall chant your gracious pity.
Both. By the vervain, &c.
We'll praise, we'll praise, we'll praise!
[The image of the moon: the shrine opens.
Hul. Fix, holy brother, now your prayers on one,
Britain's chief patroness: with humble cry
Let us invoke the moon's bright majesty. [They kneel.
Lan. Thou queen of heaven, commandress of the deep,
Lady of lakes, regent of woods and deer,
A lamp dispelling irksome night, the source
Of generable moisture; at whose feet,
With garments blue and rushy garlands dress'd,
Wait twenty thousand Naiades: thy crescent
Brute elephants adore, and man doth feel
Thy force run through the zodiac of his limbs.
O thou first guide of Brutus to this isle,
Drive back these proud usurpers from this isle.
Whether the name of Cynthia's silver globe:
Or chaste Diana with a gilded quiver:
Or dread Proserpina, stern Dis his spouse:
Or soft Lucina, call'd in childbed throes,
Doth thee delight—rise with a glorious face,
Green drops of Nereus trickling down thy cheeks,
And with bright horns, united in full orb,
Toss high the seas, with billows beat the banks,
Conjure up Neptune and th' Æolian slaves;
Contract both night and winter in a storm,
That Romans lose their way, and sooner land
At sad Avernus, than at Albion's strand.
So may'st thou shun the dragon's head and tail!
So may Endymion snort on Latmian bed!
So may the fair game fall before thy bow:
Shed light on us, but lightning on our foe!
Hul. Methinks a gracious lustre spreads her brow,
And with a nod she ratifies our suit.
Within. Come near, and take this oracle.
Lan. Behold, an oracle flies out from her shrine;
Which both the king and state shall see, before
We dare unfold it. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Brennus's Ghost, Nennius in night-robes.
Bren. Follow me.
Nen. Follow! what means that word? who art? thy will?
Bren. Follow me, Nennius.
Nen. He names me: sure, it is some friend which speaks.
I'll follow thee, though't be through Stygian lakes.
Bren. 'Tis ancient Brennus calls, whose victories
Europe and Asia felt, and still record.
Dear Nennius, now's the time to steel thy courage;
Canst thou behold thy mother captive, then
Look back upon thy ancestors, enroll'd
Among the worthies who spread wide her fame?
First let thy eyeballs pour out poison'd beams,
And kill them with disdain, who dare but lift
Their hand against her. No: no consul must
Boast of her thraldom, and outbrave our walls.
I wonder that such impudent owls should gaze
Against the splendour of our Briton cliffs:
Play thou a second Brennus: let thy lance,
Like an Herculean club, two monsters tame,
Rome's avarice and pride so come life or death,
Let honour have the incense of thy breath. [Exit.
Nen. Farewell, heroic soul; thou shalt not blush
At Nennius' deeds. The smallest drop of fame
Is cheap, if death and dangers may it buy.
Yet give thy words new vigour to my spirits,
And spur the Pegasus of my mounting thoughts.
I'll follow thee o'er piles of slaughter'd foes,
And knock at Pluto's gate. I come. Come life or death,
Honour, to thee I consecrate my breath. [Exit.
Cæsar, Camillus's Ghost following.
Cam. Julius, stay here; thy friend Camillus speaks.
Cæs. O thou preserver of our present race!
Our city's second founder! what dire fate
Troubles thy rest, that thou shouldst trouble mine?
Cæs. Thou shalt not need.
Cam. And bid thee take a full revenge on this—
This nation, which did sack and burn down Rome,
Quenching the coals with blood, and kick'd our ashes,
Trampling upon the ruins of our state;
Then led the Gauls in triumph thorough Greece,
To fix their tents beside Euxinus' gulf.
Cæs. Is this that Northern rout, the scourge of kingdoms,
Whose names, till now unknown, we judged Gauls—
Their tongue and manners not unlike?
Cam. Gauls were indeed the bulk; but Brennus led
(Then brother to the British king) those armies,
Back'd with great troops of warlike islanders.
To thee belongs to render bad for ill.
O, be my spirit doubled in thy breast,
With all the courage of three Scipios,
Marius and Sylla, that this nation, fierce
In feats of war, be forc'd to bear our yoke. [Exit.
Cæs. So may'st thou sweetly rest, as I shall strive
To trace your steps: nor let me live, if I
Thence disappointed ever seem to fly. [Exit.
SCENE VIII.
CHORUS.
1st Song.
Ancient bards have sung
With lips dropping honey
And a sugar'd tongue,
Of our worthy knights:
How Brute[295] did giants tame,
And, by Isis' current,
A second Troy did frame:
A centre of delights.
Locrinus'[296] eldest son
Did drown the furious Hun,
But burnt himself with Elstred's love:
Leil,[297] rex pacificus;
Elud,[298] judicious,
Now heavenly bodies roll above.
Wise Bladud[299] founded hath
Both soul and body's bath,
Like Icarus he flew:
Now first Mulmutius[300] wears
A golden crown, whose heirs
More than half the world subdue.
2d Song.
Thou nurse of champions, O thou spring
Whence chivalry did flow!
Thou diamond of the world's great ring,
Thy glorious virtue show:
Thou many a lord hast bred,
In catalogue of fame read;
And still we have
As captives brave,
As ever Britons led.
Then dub a dub, dub.
The armies join, tantara.
Cassibelane with armour gay
And strongly couched lance,
His courser white turn'd into bay,
On carcases shall prance.
What a crimson stream the blade
Of Nennius' sword hath made!
Black Allia's day
And Cannæ's fray
Have for a third long stay'd.
Then dub a dub, dub.
The armies join, tantara.
FOOTNOTES:
[276] [Fiddle.]
[277] Ovid.—Steevens.
[278] [An usual form in ancient times.]
[279] Deluges.—Steevens.
[280] [Allusively to the fabled descent of the Britons from the Trojans.]
[281] The same sentiment is introduced by Shakespeare into "King John," act v. sc. 7—
"This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.
But when it first did help to wound itself;
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms.
And we shall shock them: nought shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true."
Again, in the old play of "King John," 1591—
"If England's Peers and People join in one,
Nor Pope, nor France, nor Spain can do them wrong."
The same sentiment is in Borde's "Book of the Introduction of Knowledge," sig. A 4: "They (i.e., the English) fare sumptiously, God is served in their churches devoutli, but treason and deceit among them is used craftyly, ye more pitie, for yf they were true wjthin themselfs, thei nede not to feare, although al nations were set against them, specialli now, consydering our noble prince (i.e., Henry VIII.) hath and dayly dothe make noble defences as castels," &c.
[282] See note to "Cornelia," [v. 211.]
[283] A metaphor, from engines by which weights are raised or winched up. Harpocrates was the god of silence.
[284] [Old copy, slipt].
[285] I suppose this word is compounded from denizen, i.e., one made free, and here very licentiously employed.—Steevens.
[286] So in Milton's "Paradise Lost," bk. ii. l. 706—
"Incens'd with indignation Satan stood
Unterrify'd, and like a comet burn'd,
That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge
In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair
Shakes pestilence and war."
[287] See the letter printed in Geoffrey of Monmouth's History, bk. iv. c. 2.
[288] Pearls. In 1596 Tho. Lodge published a pamphlet, entitled, "A Margarite of America."
[289] Mars.
"Gradivumque patrem Geticis qui præsidet arvis."
—Virgil, Æneid, iii. 35.
[290] Reward.
[291] Shields. The author of this play appears to advantage in this and the subsequent catalogues of warriors.—Steevens.
[292] Broadswords.
[293] The Severn.
[294] Fluttering.
[295] See note to act iii., sc. 5.
[296] See Geoffrey of Monmouth, bk. ii.; the play of "Locrine," [probably by Charles Tylney, and falsely] attributed to Shakespeare; and Evans's "Old Ballads," vol. i.
[297] See Geoffrey of Monmouth, bk. ii. c. 9.
[298] Ibid., bk. iii. c. 19.
[299] Ibid., bk. ii. c. 10.
[300] Dunwallo Molmutius. See note to act iii. sc. 5. There was an old historical play called "Mulmutius Dunwallo," which in Henslowe's MS. has the date of September 1598 affixed to it; but it must have been written much earlier, as William Rankins, the author of it, had long before repented of his "lewd life," and in 1587 published his "Mirror of Monsters," a puritanical attack on the stage and plays in general.—Collier.