Reg. Why stand ye stupid?
Where be your killing furies? whose sword now
Shall first be sheath'd in Penyus? do ye weep?
Howl out, ye wretches, ye have cause: howl ever.
Who shall now lead ye fortunate? whose valor
Preserve ye to the glory of your Countrey?
Who shall march out before ye, coy'd and courted
By all the Mistrisses of War, care, counsel,
Quick-ey'd experience, and victory twin'd to him?
Who shall beget ye deeds beyond inheritance
To speak your names, and keep your honors living,
When children faill, and time that takes all with him,
Build houses for ye to oblivion?
Dru. O ye poor desperate fools: no more now, souldiers;
Go home, and hang your arms up; let rust rot 'em;
And humble your stern valors to soft prayers;
For ye have sunk the frame of all your virtues;
The sun that warm'd your bloods is set for ever:
I'll kiss thy honor'd cheek. Farewell, great Penyus,
Thou thunder-bolt, farewell. Take up the body:
To morrow morning to the Camp convey it.
There to receive due Ceremonies. That eye
That blinds himself with weeping, gets most glory.
[Exeunt with a dead march.
Scæna Quarta.
Enter Swetonius, Junius, Decius, Demetrius, Curius, and Souldiers: Bonduca, two Daughters, and Nennius, above. Drum and Colours.
Swet. Bring up the Catapults and shake the wall,
We will not be [out-brav'd] thus.
Nen. Shake the earth,
Ye cannot shake our souls. Bring up your Rams,
And with their armed heads, make the Fort totter;
Ye do but rock us into death. [Exit Nennius.
Jun. See, Sir,
See the Icenian Queen in all her glory
From the strong battlements proudly appearing,
As if she meant to give us lashes.
Bond. I am unacquainted with that language, Roman.