Dru. Victoria, Victoria.
Pen. How's that, Drusus?
Dru. They win, they win, they win; oh look, look, look, Sir,
For heavens sake look, the Britains fly, the Britains fly. Victoria.
Enter Swetonius, Soldiers, and Captains.
Swet. Soft, soft, pursue it soft; excellent Soldiers,
Close, my brave fellows, honorable Romans:
Oh cool thy mettle Junius, they are ours,
The world cannot redeem 'em: stern Petillius,
Govern the conquest nobly: soft, good Soldiers. [Exeunt.
Enter Bonduca, Daughters, and Britains.
Bond. Shame, whither flie ye, ye unlucky Britains?
Will ye creep into your mothers wombs again? Back cowards.
Hares, fearful Hares, Doves in your angers; leave me?
Leave your Queen desolate? her hapless children.
Enter Caratach and Hengo.
To Roman rape again and fury?
Car. Flye, ye buzzards,
Ye have wings enough, ye fear: get thee gone, woman,