_Car._ Disheartned, Run, run, _Bonduca_, not the quick rack swifter; The Virgin from the hated Ravisher Not half so fearful; not a flight drawn home. A round stone from a sling, a Lovers wish E'r made that haste that they have. By ---- I have seen these _Britains_, that you magnifie, Run as they would have out-run time and roaring Basely for mercy, roaring: the light shadows, That in a thought scur o'r the fields of Corn, Halted on crutches to 'em. _Bon._ O ye Powers, What scandals do I suffer! _Car._ Yes, _Bonduca_, I have seen thee run too, and thee, _Nennius_; Yea, run apace, both; then when _Penyus_ The _Roman_ Girl, cut thorow your armed Carts, And drive 'em headlong on ye down the hill: Then when he hunted ye like _Britain_-Foxes, More by the scent than sight: then did I see These valiant and approved men of _Britain_, Like boading Owls, creep into tods of Ivie, And hoot their fears to one another nightly. _Nen._ And what did you then, _Caratach_? _Car._ I fled too, But not [so] fast; your Jewel had been lost then, Young _Hengo_ there; he trasht me, _Nennius_: For when your fears out-run him, then stept I, And in the head of all the _Romans_ fury Took him, and, with my tough Belt, to my back I buckled him: behind him, my sure Shield; And then I follow'd. If I say I fought Five times in bringing off this bud of _Britain_, I lye not, _Nennius_. Neither had ye heard Me speak this, or ever seen the child more, But that the Son of Virtue, _Penyus_ Seeing me steer thorow all these storms of danger, My Helm still in my hand, my Sword my prow, Turn'd to my foe my face, he cry'd out nobly, Go _Britain_, bear thy Lions whelp off safely; Thy manly sword has ransom'd thee: grow strong, And let me meet thee once again in Arms; Then if thou stand'st, thou art mine. I took his offer, And here I am to honour him. _Bon._ O Cousin, From what a flight of honour hast thou checkt me! What wouldst thou make me, _Caratach_? _Car._ See, Lady, The noble use of others in our losses: Does this afflict ye? Had the _Romans_ cry'd this, And as we have done theirs, sung out these fortunes, Rail'd on our base condition, hooted at us, Made marks as far as the earth was ours, to shew us Nothing but sea could stop our flights; despis'd us, And held it equal, whether banqueting Or beating of the _Britains_ were more business, It would have gall'd ye. _Bon._ Let me think we conquer'd.