Jud. Now I love thee:
But no more Forks nor Whips.
Dec. Deserve 'em not then:
Up with your men, I'll meet ye presently;
And get 'em sober quickly.
Jud. Arm, arm, Bullies;
All's right again and straight; and which is more,
More Wine, more Wine: Awake ye men of Memphis,
Be sober and discreet, we have much to do boys. [Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Prepare there for the sacrifice, the Queen comes. [Musick.
Enter in solemnity the Druids singing, the second Daughter strewing Flowers: then Bonduca, Nennius, and others.
Bond. Ye powerful gods of Britain, hear our prayers;
Hear us you great Revengers, and this day
Take pity from our swords, doubt from our valours,
Double the sad remembrance of our wrongs
In every brest; the vengeance due to those
Make infinite and endless: on our pikes
This day pale terror sit, horrors and ruines
Upon our executions; claps of thunder
Hang on our armed carts, and 'fore our Troops
Despair and death; shame beyond these attend 'em.
Rise from the dust, ye relicks of the dead,
Whose noble deeds our holy Druids sing,
Oh rise, ye valiant bones, let not base earth
Oppress your honors, whilst the pride of Rome
Treads on your Stocks, and wipes out all your stories.
Nen. Thou great Tiranes, whom our sacred Priests,
Armed with dreadful thunder, plac'd on high
Above the rest of the immortal gods,
Send thy consuming fires, and deadly bolts,
And shoot 'em home, stick in each Roman heart
A fear fit for confusion; blast their spirits,
Dwell in 'em to destruction; thorow their Phalanx
Strike, as thou [str]ik'st a proud tree; shake their Bodies,
Make their strengths totter, and their topless fortunes
Unroot and reel to ruine.