SCENE IV.

CÆSAR, VOLUSENUS, LABERIUS, _Soldiers_.

CÆS. What land, what people, and what answer, show.

VOL. We saw a paradise, whose bosom teems With silver ore, whose seas are paved with pearl, The meadows richly spread with Flora's tapestry; The fields even wonder at their harvest-loads: In crystal streams the scaly nations play, Fring'd all along with trembling poplar trees. The sun in summer, loth to leave their sight, Forgets to sleep, and glancing makes no night. Then, for the men, their stature's tall and big. With blue-stain'd skins and long black dangling hair, Promise a barbarous fierceness. They scarce know, And much less fear our empire's might: but thus Return'd defiance:--

"Cassibelane, King of Britain, to Julius Cæsar,[287] Proconsul of Gallia.

Seeing your empire's great, why should it not suffice? To covet more and more is tyrants' usual guise. To lose what Jove you gave, you'd think it but unjust; You have your answer then; defend this isle we must: Which from the world cut off, and free from her first day, Hath iron more for swords than gold for tribute's pay. If amity and like fear succour to Gaul imparts, Pardon, for this small brook could not divide our hearts. We hope the gods will help, and fortune back our cause, Who take arms but to keep our lives, our wives, and laws. As you from Troy, so we our pedigree do claim: Why should the branches fight when as the root's the same? Despise us not because the sea and north us close: Who can no farther go, must turn upon their foes. Thus rudely we conclude: wage war, or change your will, We hope to use a lance far better than a quill."

CÆS. I grieve to draw my sword against the stock Of thrice-renowned Troy; but they are rude, And must be frighted, ere we shall be friends. Then let's aboard, and (hoisting sails) convey Two legions over; for I long to view This unknown land and all their fabulous rites: And gather margarites[288] in my brazen cap. Nature nor fates can valorous virtue stop.

LAB. Now Cæsar speaks like Cæsar: stronger and stronger, Rise like a whirlwind; tear the mountain's pride; Shake thy brass harness, whose loud clattering may Waken Gradivus[289], where he sleeps on top Of Hæmus, lull'd with Boreas' roaring base, And put to flight this nation with the noise. A fly is not an eagle's combatant. Nor may a pigmy with a giant strive. [_Exeunt._