Cassibelanus, Belinus, Lantonus. Nennius in a chair.
Nen. We won the day, and all our foes are fled?
Bel. Yes, noble Nennius, scatter'd on the shore,
Thick lay the Latins, and the glutted stream
Spews up her dead, whom death hath taught to swim,
Though ignorant alive: their flowing blood
Made a new red sea. But those few we lost,
Sweetly repos'd upon their mother's breast,
And, wounded all before, kept in their face
A warlike frown.
Nen. Where is false Cæsar's sword, call'd Crocea Mors,[309]
Which never hurt but kill'd? Let it be plac'd
Within my tomb.
Nen. Death like a Parthian flies, and flying kills;
In midst of conquest came my deadly wound.
Accursed weapon—more accursed man
Who, serpent-like, in poison bathes his sting!
Tiber doth breed as venomous beasts as Nile.
We scorn such cruel craft. But death draws near,
A giddy horror seizeth on my brain.
Dear brother, and thou holy priest of heaven,
Witness my words; I leave my country free,
And die a victor. Thus with lighter wing
My purified soul mounts to her first best cause.
I long even to behold those glorious cloisters,
Where Brutus,[310] great Dunwallo,[311] and his sons,
Thrice-noble spirits, walk.
Thou mighty enginer of this wondrous globe,
Protect this isle, confound all foreign plots:
Grant Thames and Tiber never join their channels;
But may a natural hate, deriv'd from us,
Live still in our long-trailed progeny—
My eyes do swim in death—
Before this land shall wear the Roman yoke,
Let first the adamantine axle crack,
Which binds the ball terrestrial to her poles,
And dash the empty air! let planets drop
Their scalding jelly, and, all flame being spent,
Entomb the world in everlasting smoke![312]
Come faster, Death: I can behold thy grim
And ugly jaws with quiet mind. Now, now
I hear sweet music; and my spirit flies. [He dies.
Cas. His breath is gone, who was his country's prop
And my right hand. Now only doth he crave
To see him laid with honour in the grave. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Eulinus, Hirildas.
Eul. A mind content, O, 'tis a mind of pearl:
A mint of golden thoughts, a heaven on earth!
When eager longers meet full-butt their scope,
And hopes are actuated beyond hope.
So Jason joy'd, the golden fleece obtain'd;
So Hercules joy'd, the golden fruit being gain'd;
So Venus joy'd the golden ball to hold;
So Midas joy'd when he turn'd all to gold.
So, and much more, rejoic'd the Phrygian swain,
When he convey'd the fairest (except mine),
Which air did ever kiss. His brazen keel,
Proud of her burden, slic'd the capering brine:
The Tritons blew their horns, and sea-gods dance.
Before, behind, about his ship they prance:
The mermaids skip on high, but to compare
Their dangling tresses with her silken hair—
These were but shadows of my bliss. A robe
Of pure beatitude wraps me round about,
Without a speck or blemish; nor can invention
Wish more unto me than I have—Landora.
I'm rich, free, learned, honour'd—all in this.
Who dares conceive against the female sex
But one base thought? Lo, here I stand their champion,
And will maintain he is a beast, a devil,
Begot between a bitch-wolf and an incubus.
Women, all-good, all-perfect and all-gracious,
Men-making creatures, angels clad in flesh;
Let me adore your name!