Bel. Renown'd Cassibelane, might my counsel speak?
Cas. I know thy loyal heart and prudent head,
Upon whose hairs Time's child, Experience, hangs
A milk-white badge of wisdom; and canst wield
Thy tongue in senate and thy hands in field.
Speak free, Belinus.
Bel. We forfeit fame and smother victory
By idle lingering: the foe discomfited
Must needs be much amaz'd; his ships dismember'd,
Do piecemeal float upon the waves: the horse,
Whose succour he expects, are beaten back
By friendly winds: his camp contracted is:
A tithe of soldiers left, the rest all slain:
His chief munition spent or lost: provision
(An army's soul) but what we give, he wants.
What then shall hinder to destroy their name?
So none again shall venture: but our isle,
Rounded with Nereus' girdle, may enjoy
Eternal peace.
Cas. I like thy warning; with united stroke
Of all our nations we'll his camp beleaguer,
Devouring ships and men. But one mischance,
My brother's wound (his mortal wound, I fear)
Turns all to wormwood. Why were ye dumb, ye idols?
No sainted statue did foretell this grief.
Come, let's go visit him. You may, lord general,
Set Comius free; we love not to insult,
But render good for ill. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Cæsar, Volusenus, &c.
Cæs. Heaven, sea and wind, and all the elements,
Conspire to work us harm. Our ships, in Gaul
Windbound, at length put forth and come in view,
Are toss'd and torn; our navy on the shore
With civil discord break each other's planks.
The airy rulers are displeas'd; all day
Noises and nimble flashes, mix'd with rain,
Amaze our soldiers.
To make grief full, my daughter's death I hear.
When, powerful fortune, will thy anger cease?
Never till now did Cæsar fortune fear.
Mount Palatine, thou throne of Jove, and ye,
Whose lesser turrets pinnacle Rome's head,
Are all your deities fled? or was I bold
To outgo nature, and our empire stretch
Beyond her limits? Pardon, then, my fault.
Or do we basely faint? Or is our might
Answer'd with like, since Troy 'gainst Troy doth fight?
Nor can I write now, I came over, and
I overcame: such foes deny such haste.
Vol. The islanders consult, and (sure) intend
Some sudden stratagem. And now the scales
Poise equal day and night, when rougher seas
And stormy Pleiads may our passage stop.
Cæs. Then, sirs, to ship! Compell'd, I leave this land,
But to return, if gods do not withstand. [Exeunt.