Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 06 of 10Fletcher, John
General
Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 06 of 10
Fletcher, John
English drama
_Dru._ They win, they win, they win; oh look, look, look, Sir,
For heavens sake look, the _Britains_ fly, the _Britains_ fly.
_Victoria._
_Enter_ Swetonius, Soldiers, _and_ Captains.
_Swet._ Soft, soft, pursue it soft; excellent Soldiers,
Close, my brave fellows, honorable _Romans_:
Oh cool thy mettle _Junius_, they are ours,
The world cannot redeem 'em: stern _Petillius_,
Govern the conquest nobly: soft, good Soldiers. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Bonduca, Daughters, _and_ Britains.
_Bond._ Shame, whither flie ye, ye unlucky _Britains_?
Will ye creep into your mothers wombs again? Back cowards.
Hares, fearful Hares, Doves in your angers; leave me?
Leave your Queen desolate? her hapless children.
_Enter_ Caratach _and_ Hengo.
To _Roman_ rape again and fury?
_Car._ Flye, ye buzzards,
Ye have wings enough, ye fear: get thee gone, woman,
[_Loud shout within._
Shame tread upon thy heels; all's lost, all's lost, heark,
Heark how the _Romans_ ring our knels. [_Ext. Bond., &c._
_Hen._ Good Uncle,
Let me go too.
_Car._ No boy, th[y] fortune's mine,
I must not leave thee; get behind me; shake not,
_Enter_ Petillius, Junius, Decius.
I'll breech ye, if ye do boy: Come, brave _Romans_,
All is not lost yet.
_Jun._ Now I'll thank thee, _Caratach_. [_Fight. Drums._
_Car._ Thou art a Soldier: strike home, home, have at ye.
_Pen._ His blows fall like huge sledges on an anvil.
_Dec._ I am weary.
_Pet._ So am I.
_Car._ Send more swords to me.
_Jun._ Let's sit and rest. [_Sit down._
_Dru._ What think ye now?
_Pen._ O _Drusus_,
I have lost mine honor, lost my name,
Lost all that was my light: these are true _Romans_,
And I a _Britain_ coward, a base Coward;
Guide me where nothing is but desolation,
That I may never more behold the face
Of Man, or Mankind know me: O blind Fortune,
Hast thou abus'd me thus?
_Dru._ Good Sir, be comforted;
It was your wisdom rul'd ye; pray ye go home,
Your day is yet to come, when this great fortune
Shall be but foil unto it. [_Retreat._
_Pen._ Fool, fool, Coward. [_Exit_ Penyus _and_ Drusus.
_Enter_ Swetonius, Demetrius, _Soldiers, Drum and Colours_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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