ACT V., SCENE I.

Cæsar, Androgeus, Mandubratius, &c. Soldiers.

Cæs. Thus gain we ground; yet still our foes will fight,
Whether they win or lose. With bloody drops
Our path is printed: Thames his maiden cheeks
Blush with vermillion. Nations crave our league
On every side; yet still Cassibelane braves us,
Nor will submit.

And. Not far hence Verulam lies, his chiefest fort:
By nature guarded round with woods and fens,
By art enclosed with a ditch and rampier:
From hence we must dislodge the boar.

Man. There are but two ways to assail this town,
Both which I know. Your parted army must
Break through both at once, and so distract
His doubtful rescues.

Enter Volusenus, with Hulacus prisoner.

Hul. Draw, slaves unwilling; I dare meet my death,
And lead my leader.

Vol. You'll repent anon.

Hul. If I do ill; but not for suffering ill.

Vol. Your stoical apathy will relent, I know.
This priest I caught within a shady grove,
Devoutly kneeling at a broad oak's foot.
Now he awaits your doom.

Cæs. What God adore you?

Hul. Him whom all should serve.

Cæs. What's the moon?

Hul. Night's sun.

Cæs. What's night?

Hul. A foil to glorify the day.

Cæs. What most compendious way to happiness?

Hul. To die in a good cause.

Cæs. What is a man?

Hul. An hermaphrodite of soul and body.

Cæs. How differ they in nature?

Hul. The body hath in weight, the soul in length.

Cæs. One question more: What dangers shall I pass?

Hul. Many by land and sea, as steps to glory.
Throw Palatine on Æsquiline, on both
Heap Aventine, to raise one pyramid for a
Chair of estate, where thy advanced head,
Among those heroes pictur'd in the stars,
Orion, Perseus, Hercules, may consult
With Jove himself: but shun the senate-house.
March round about the Caspian sea; search out,
'Mong cedars tall, th' Arabian phœnix' nest;
Run counter to old Nile, till thou discover
His sacred head wrapt up in cloudy mountains;
And, rather than work fail, turn Hellespont
Out of his channel; dig that isthmus down,
Which ties great Afric—shun the senate-house.

Be Saturn, and so thou shalt not be Tarquin.
A Brutus strong
Repays in fine
The brutish wrong
To Brutus' line.

Cæs. We'll talk at leisure more. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Cassibelanus, Belinus, &c.

Cas. No rampires keep him back: he presses forward,
Though every stamp he treads seems to conjure
The Fates from their infernal centre. None
But he durst be so bold.

Bel. Yes, when Britons lead, and Mandubrace, insulting
With naked sword, calls on the lagging soldiers;
When fierce Androgeus, with revolted nations,
Ushers his army. No way half so quick
To ruinate kingdoms as by homebred strife.
Thus, while we single fight, we perish all.

Cas. Ay, ay, those treach'rous caitiffs! rebel slaves!
O, may their country's heavy curse them sink
Below the nine-fold brazen gates of hell!
That princock[340] proud!—ah, 'twas a 'scape in policy:
I should have slain the whelps with their good sire.
Let Britain's climacterical year now run,
The series break of seventy kings: nay, let
One urn conclude our ashes and the world's.
Befall what will, in midst of horror's noise
And crackling flames, when all is lost, we'll die
With weapons in our hands, and victory scorn:
There's none that die so poor as they are born.
Faithful Belinus, let a post command
The Kentish kings to set upon his fleet,
Whilst we here bate. Four thousand charioteers,
(Such as did glide upon the Phrygian plains,
And (wheeling) double service do perform—
Both horseman's speed and footman's stable strength)
Still do remain: with these and flocking voluntaries
We'll give him once more battle. Let the captains
Enter and hear my charge.

Enter Captains. He stands on a throne.

Subjects and fellow-soldiers, we must now try
For ancient freedom or perpetual bondage:
There is no third choice. The enraged foe
(With cruel pride, proud avarice) hath spoil'd
From East to West, hunting for blood and gain.
Your wives and daughters ravish'd, ransack'd towns,
Great bellies ripp'd with lances, sprawling babes,
The spouse, about her husband's neck, run through
By the same spear. Think on these objects;
Then choose them for your lords, who spoil and burn
Whole countries, and call desolation peace.[341]
Yield, yield, that he, ennobled by our spoils,
May climb the capitol with triumphant car;
You led, fast-fetter'd, through the staring streets,
For city dames to mock your habit strange,
And fill their arras-hangings with our story.
No: Brennus' ghost forbid! who this night stood
Before my eyes, and grimly furious spake:
Shall Britain stoop to Roman rods and hatchets,
And servile tribute? will ye so defame
Your ancestors, and your successors wrong,
Heirs but of slavery? O, this day make good
The glory of so many ages pass'd
I see you are incens'd, and wish to use
Your weapons, not your ears.

All. To arms, to arms, to arms! we'll fight and die. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Eulinus in a nightcap, unbraced. Viol, poynado.[342] Plays, and sings to the viol.

So the silver-feather'd swan,
Both by death and colour wan,
Loves to sing, before she die,
Leaving life so willingly.
But how can I sing a note,
When dead hoarseness stops my throat?
Or how can I play a stroke,
When my heart-strings are all broke?

Come, guilty night, and with black velvet wings
Mantle me round: let melancholic thoughts
Hang all my brain with blacks, this darksome grove,
My gallery. So, all things suit my mind:
Such funeral colours please a gasping heart.
I died with thee, Landora, once; now only
Some struggling spirits are behind, to be
Laid out with most thrift on thy memory.
Where shall I first begin my last complaint,
Which must be measur'd by my glass of life?
At thee, Hirildas, slain in furious mood,
By whose help only I enjoy'd my love?
Or thee, Landora, dying for his sake,
And in thy death including mine?
Or at my country's wreck, whose surface torn
Doth for my vengeance importune the pole?
Or at myself? Ay, there is sorrow's spring.
Shall I go wand'ring, lurk in woods unknown
(A banish'd hermit), and sigh out my griefs,
Teaching the pretty birds to sing, My dear,
My dear Landora? There to feed on acorns,
Drink the clear fountain, and consume with weeping,
Were but an easy life, an easy death:
My violent passion must have sudden vent.
Refined soul, whose odoriferous light
The damned hags stare at, and whining elves,
Thinking it heaven in hell, behold my pangs,
Pity my dying groans, and be more soft.
O, may our shadows mingle; then shall I
Envy no more those citizens above,
The ambrosian juncates of th' Olympian hall.
And all that gorgeous roof. But cowards talk.
Come, thou last refuge of a wearisome life. [Draws his poignard.
A passport to the Elysian land, a key
To unlock my griev'd inmate. Lo! I come.
O, let this river from my eyes, this stream [Unbuttons.
From my poor breast, beg favour of thy ghost:
O, let this lukewarm blood thy rigour steep, [Stabs.
And mollify thy adamantine heart.
Leander-like, I swim to thee through blood:
Be thy bright eyes my Pharos, and conduct me
Through the dull night of gloomy Erebus.
Flow, flow, ye lively drops, and from my veins
Run winding to the ocean of my bliss:
Tell her my love, and, if she still shall doubt,
Swear that ye came directly from my heart.
I stay too long. [Stabs again.] Sweet lady, give me welcome.
Though I shall pass twelve monsters, as the sun,
Or twelve Herculean labours on a row,
Yet one kind look makes all my labours sweet.
Thou fairy queen[343] of the Tartarian court,
To whom Proserpine may the apple give,
Worthier than she to warm old Pluto's bed;
See thy poor vassal welt'ring in his gore.
I faint, I faint;
I die thy martyr, as I liv'd thy priest:
Great goddess, be propitious! sweet Landora— [Falls and dies.

SCENE IV.

The four Kings of Kent march over the stage. A drum struck up within. Q. Atrius comes with Cingetorix prisoner. Rollano running; Volusenus meets him.

Rol. What shall I do? how shall I 'scape? [Falls for fear.

Vol. I scorn to take advantage; rise and fight.

Rol. I had rather be kill'd quickly, quickly.

Vol. Then die, as thou desirest. [Thrusts at him.

Rol. O, let me wink first. [Bawls aloud.
I shall never endure it. O, O, I am pepper'd and salted!

[Exit Volusenus. Rollano crawls away.

Cassibelanus, Belinus, &c.

Cas. O, that base fortune should great spirits damp,
And fawn on muddy slaves! That envious fate
Should ripen villany with a Syrian dew,
And blast sweet virtue with a Syrian flame!
A catalogue of mischiefs do concur:
Our Briton Hector Nennius dead; our kings,
Angry to be refus'd, sit still at home;
And then those traitors with their train augment
His huge and expert army. Nothing stops him:
Rivers nor rampiers, woods nor dangerous bogs.
On this side Thames his dismal ensigns shine.
Last, Kent's unhappy rulers are at sea
O'erthrown, and our men almost spent. Then, general,
In desperate pride and valour's scornful rage,
Let us run headlong through their armed tents,
And make their camp a shambles; so to raise
Our lofty tombs upon their slaughter'd heaps.

Bel. Nay, rather first let us parley for peace.

Cas. Ye country gods and nymphs, who Albion love:
Old father Neptune: all ye powers divine:
Witness my loyal care! If human strength,
Courage and policy could a kingdom save,
We did our best; but discord, child of hell,
Numbers of train-men, and each captain pick'd
Out of a province, make us bow or break.
In vain we strive, when deities do frown;
When destinies push, Atlas himself comes down.

Enter Comius.

Bel. No mediator is so fit as Comius:
And here's the man.

Com. Do not the dangers which
Environ you call for a good conclusion?
Which I wish, as friend to both sides.

Cas. No, Comius. There is more behind than Cæsar
Hath overrun: our charioteers still drive;
Our harness still is worn. Through woods and lakes
We'll tire his dainty soldiers; then set fire
On towns, and sacrifice ourselves, our wives,
Our goods and cattle, in one public flame,
That wind may blow our ashes in his face.

Com. So shall dead el'ments curse your causeless fury:
Rather conclude some friendly peace.

Cas. Thus far we hear you. If with honour'd terms
And royal looks he will accept our faith,
We will obey, but never serve.

Com. I'll undertake as much. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Androgeus, Tenantius.

And. Thus civil war by me and factious broils
Deface this goodly land: I am reveng'd;
The cause (Eulinus) dead, my anger dies.
He is our uncle, and in danger's mouth;
Both claim relenting pity. Whom peace made
A rampant lion, war hath made a lamb.
Cæsar shall not proceed, for private ends,
To captivate our isle, whose clamorous curse
Doth knock, I know, at heaven's star-nail'd gates:
For that Jove's bird, imp'd[344] with our plumes, o'erflew
The ocean's wall, to seek her prey in Britain.

Ten. Ay, we have made a rod for our own backs:
Fetters of gold are fetters. No gap worse
To let destruction in by, than to call
A foreign aid who, having seen our weakness,
And tasted once the fatness of our land,
Is not so easily thrust out as admitted.
Such medicine is worse than the malady:
Fretting the bowels of our kingdom.

And. I know their hatred just; and here resign
All my birthright to thee, my second self.
I must forsake my country's sight, and seek
New fortunes with this emperor, in hope
To be rais'd up by his now rising wheel.

Ten. O, do not so, dear brother! so to part
Were to divide one individual soul.
Nor think me so ambitious. I can live
A private life, and see a regal crown
With no more envy than I see the sun
Glitter above me. Let not Lud's two sons
Be parted by a sea. I hold your presence
At higher price than a whole kingdom's pomp.
Keep then your right; like those admired twins,
Let us rejoice, mourn, live, and die together.

And. You shall a sceptre gain.

Ten. And lose a brother.

And. Bear you the sovereign power of this land.

Ten. A body politic must on two legs stand:
I'll bear a part, so to diminish envy.

And. I must away, and shun the people's eye.

Ten. If to yourself unkind, be kind to me;
For my sake stay at home; why will you fly?
Think you a stepdame soil gives sweeter sap?

And. Ay, for trees transplanted do more goodly grow.

Ten. And I'll count men but stocks, when they do so.

And. I am resolv'd, all troubles brought asleep,
To leave you with a parting kiss.

Ten. And by that kiss
May I transfuse my soul or quite expire.
Brothers have often for a kingdom fought;
We strive to lose it. This is holy strife.
But here I vow, if e'er that sacred lace
Shall gird my temples, Rome must keep her bounds,
Or fish for tribute in the dreadful deep.

SCENE VI.

Cæsar, Mandubratius.

And. Let gracious favour smooth war's rugged brow;
Cassibelane will compound; all rage must end.
We choose you umpire for a friendly close.

Cæs. It is my glory to end all with peace;
And for that cause I Comius sent in haste
For to conduct him hither.

Ten. This trump gives warning of the king's approach.

Cassibelanus, Comius, Lantonus.

Cas. Fate, and no fault of mine, makes me appear
To yield, as far as honour gives me leave.

Cæs. Hail, valorous prince! disdain not this ingrafting
Into Rome's empire, whose command encloses
The whole Levant, and whose large shadow hides
The triple-bounded earth and bellowing seas.

Cas. We shall observe your will, so you impose
A league—no yoke. [They shake hands.

Cæs. Thus we determine: that crown still shall stand:
Reign as the total monarch of this isle,
Till death unkings you. 'Twere, Androgeus, best
You in our train kept honourable place;
And let Tenantius wear the royal wreath.
You must forgive the towns which did revolt,
Nor seek revenge on Trinobants, but let
Young Mandubrace possess his father's princedom.

Cas. Be all wrongs drench'd in Lethe.

And. Pardon my rash attempts.

Man. Count me your loyal friend.

[Cassibelanus embraces Androgeus and
Mandubratius.

Cæs. In sign of league you shall us pledges give,
And yearly pay three thousand pound of silver
Unto our treasury. So let these decrees
Be straight proclaim'd through Troynovant, whose tower[345]
Shall be more fairly built at my charge, as
A lasting monument of our arrival.

Cas. All shall be done, renowned prince, whose worth,
Unparallel'd both as a friend and foe,
We do admire.
Accept this surcoat, starrified with pearls
And diamonds, such as our own shores breed.

Cæs. And you receive this massy cup of gold,
Love's earnest and memorial of this day.
By this suppose our senate calls you friend.

[They sit together.

Lan. Now time, best oracle of oracles,
Father of truth, the true sense doth suggest
Of Dian's answer.
The lion and the eagle do design
The Briton and the Roman states, whose arms
Were painted with those animals; both fierce,
Weary at last, conclude: the semicircles,
First letters of the leaders' names (we see)
Are join'd in true love's endless figure.
Both come of Trojan race, both nobly bold,
Both matchless captains on one throne behold.

Cæs. Now the Tarpeian rock o'erlooks the world,
Her empire bounded only by the ocean;
And boundless fame beats on the starry pole.
So Danow, crawling from a mountain's side,
Wider and deeper grows, and like a serpent
Or pyramid revers'd, improves his bigness
As well as length; till, viewing countries large,
And fed with sixty rivers, his wide mouth
On th' Euxine sea-nymph gapes, and fear doth stir,
Whether he will disgorge or swallow her.

Cas. Since the great guide of all, Olympus' king,
Will have the Romans his viceroys on earth;
Since the red fatal eyes of crow-black night
Fling their malignant influence on our state;
Since Britain must submit; it was her fame,
None but a Julius Cæsar could her tame.

[While trumpets sound, Androgeus and Tenantius
embracing, take leave. All depart.

SCENE VII.

Chorus.

1st Song.

Come, fellow-bards, and sing with cheer;
Since dreadful alarums we shall no more hear.
Come, lovely peace, our saint divine,
Olive and laurel do love for to twine.
The Graces and Muses, and nymphs in a round:
Let voice beat the air, and feet beat the ground.

So hell's black image chas'd away,
Eos doth dandle the goldy-lock'd day;
So, Bruma[346] banish'd all forlorn,
Cupid and Flora the spring do adorn:
And so, the grim fury of Mars laid in grave,
A merrier ending doth friendly peace crave.

2d Song.

The sky is glad, that stars above
Do give a brighter splendour:
The stars unfold their flaming gold,
To make the ground more tender:
The ground doth send a fragrant smell,
That air may be the sweeter:
The air doth charm the swelling seas
With pretty chirping metre:
The sea with rivers' water doth
Feed[347] plants and flowers dainty:
The planets do yield their fruitful seed,
That beasts may live in plenty:
The beasts doth give both food and cloth,
That men high Jove may honour:
And so the world runs merrily round,
When peace doth smile upon her.
O then, then O! O then, then O!
This jubilee last for ever:
That foreign spite or civil fight
Our quiet trouble never. [Exeunt.

Mercury reducing the ghosts of Camillus and Brennus.

Cam. How bravely Cæsar pass'd the angry main!

Bren. How bravely was he back repuls'd again!

Cam. How did he wheel his sword in Nennius' face!

Bren. How did he lose his sword, and fly apace!

Cam. How did again his army fill your coast!

Bren. Ay, when our princes did conduct his host.

Cam. How did they pierce through Isis' dangerous flood!

Bren. But made her swell, and bankrupt[348] with their blood.

Cam. Mirror of captains, Julius, still hath won.

Bren. But we may justly brag of two for one.

Cam. Confess, our valorous race hath now repaid
The Allian massacre[349] and our city's flame:
See how they yield, and yearly tribute pay.

Bren. No, proud dictator, both do weary stand
On equal terms: both wish a peaceful league.
But if they shall oppress, know, generous spirits
Will break this compact, like a spider's web.

Mer. Jove's will is finish'd: and, though Juno frown,
That no more Trojan blood shall dye the stage,
The world's fourth empire Britain doth embrace.
The thunder-bearer with a Janus look
At once views ruddy morn and cloudy west:
Her wings, display'd o'er this terrestrial egg,
Will shortly hatch an universal peace;
For Jove intends a favour to the world.
It now remains that you two martial wights
Cease from your braving one another's worth:
You must be friends at last. The close is sweet,
When, after tumults, hearts and hands do meet. [Exeunt.

Nec lusisse pudet, sed non incidere ludum.

FOOTNOTES:

[339] The wife of Locrine. See Geoffrey of Monmouth, bk. ii. c. 4.

[340] A coxcomb, or conceited person. So in "The Emperor of the East," act iv. sc. 1—

"I have a heart, yet
As ready to do service for my leg
As any princock, peacock of you all."

And again, "The Old Law," act iii. sc. 2—

"That wet one has cost many a princock's life."

See also Mr Steevens's note on "Romeo and Juliet," act i. sc. 5.

[341] This sentiment, and many others in the course of the play, are borrowed: it is a translation from a very well known passage in Tacitus: solitudinem faciunt, &c.—Collier.

[342] i.e., Poignard, sword. So in "The Return from Parnassus"—

"Strikes his poynado at a button's breadth."

[343] Alluding to Spenser's celebrated poem.—Steevens.

[344] See note to "Albumazar," [xi. 346.]

[345] The Tower of London, said to have been built by Julius Cæsar.

[346] [The winter solstice.]

[347] The 4o has it—

"The sea with rivers' water doth
The plants and flowers dainty."

—Collier.

[348] Or broken-banked with the flood.

[349] The slaughter made at the battle of Allia, in the year of Rome 363.

[THE LOST LADY.]

EDITION.

The Lost Lady. A Tragy Comedy. Imprinted at London by Jo. Okes, for John Colby, and are to be sold at his Shop, at the Signe of the Holy Lambe on Ludgate-hill. 1639. Folio.

[Sir William Barclay or Berkley was probably related to Sir Richard Barclay, author of "A Discourse of the Felicity of Man," first printed in 1598. He wrote, besides the "Lost Lady," a "Description of Virginia." An account of him will be found in Bliss's edition of Wood's "Athenæ," iii. 1111-12.

"The Lost Lady" was reprinted by Dodsley in 1744, but excluded from the second and third editions of the collection.]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.[350]

Men.

Women.

FOOTNOTES:

[350] [Not in the old copy.]

THE LOST LADY.