Nen. Fight, Britons, fight! The day is ours. I'm cloy'd
And glutted e'en with slaughter. There some fly,
And flying die, and dying mangled lie.
I twice broke through the ranks, yet cannot find
That vent'rous captain Cæsar, on whose breast
I long to try my blade, and prick that bladder
Puff'd with ambition and victorious fight.
Cæsar enters.
Cæs. We may confess they come of Trojan kind;
An hundred valiant Hectors here we find.
Nen. Fairly encounter'd: let our blades discuss
Who hath the justest cause; and on this combat
May Victory her equal balance hang.
Cæs. Thou seem'st a worthy prince, and Cæsar's match.
[They fight, wounds Nennius in the head,
who staggers; fights, and recovers Cæsar's
sword fallen, and puts him to flight.
Nen. Stay, stay! Thou art at home: here's Campus Martius.
The Britons, sought for, see thy frighted back:
Return, and take possession of our isle,
And by thy death be styl'd Britannicus.
Leave not thy blade unsheath'd: a tyrant's heart
To his own sword a scabbard should impart.
Ye senators and gaily-gown'd Quirites,
Open the Capitol's ivory gates, and lead
Fat bulls with garlands green and gilded horns:
Let supplications last for twice ten days:
Cæsar returns a victor!
Prepare the laureate coach and snow-white steeds,
Embroider'd canopy and scarlet gowns:
Let altars smoke, and tholes expect our spoils,[303]
Cæsar returns in triumph! Basely flies,
And leaves his conquest in weak infancy.
For had he won this coast, yet many blows
Must pass, ere he could pass the Thames; and then,
Ere he touch Humber, many nations must
Be tam'd; and then, before he Tweed can drink,
And climb the craggy rocks of Caledon,
A life is spent—yea, many thousand lives.
O, my wound rages, and tormented brain
Doth labour of a fury, not a Pallas.[304]
This blade was steep'd in poison: O, I'm poison'd!
Well didst thou fly, or I had made thee taste
Thine own provision. Now my wrath and pain
With double force shall flow in purple streams.
The three infernal ladies with wire whips
And speckled snakes shall lackey close my steps,
While that I offer hecatombs of men.
The Latian shepherd's brood[305] shall ban those stars,
Whose glimmering sparks led their audacious pines
To lie so far from home in foreign soil.
When cedars fall, whole woods are crush'd; nor die
Can Nennius private without company.
Enter Laberius.
Thou runn'st upon thy death.
Lab. A Roman never daunted was with looks,
Else had not Samartane and Lybian bugbears
Been captive led in chains.