SCENE IV.

CÆSAR, _&c. Ensign, drum, trumpet, flag, Soldiers,_ _Shipmen. The noise of landing_.

CÆS. The coast is clear; our honour is the goal. In vain doth Tagus' yellow sand obey, Rhine's horned front and nimble Tigris running For wager with the wind, which skims his top; In vain from Ganges to Hesperian Gades, The bounds mark'd out by Jove's two base-born sons[331] Our echo'd name doth sound, if we recoil From hence again not victors. Ye pilots old, who were begot mermaids, Whose element is their sea, bred and brought up In cradles rock'd with storms and wooden walls. Fear not to grapple with the seas. Fear not Their bulks, brave veterans; that extended mass Is not of iron, but can bleed and die: They were not dipp'd in Styx, nor are they giants Or wild poetic Centaurs we assail. Let then this voyage quit out credit lost, And let rage lash on courage. Here's the game; Life may be lost, but (sure) we'll hold fast fame!

[_They march about and go out. The whole_ _battle within._

CASSIBELANUS, BELINUS, _&c., Soldiers_.

CAS. Our first attempt doth prosper: they retiring Scud to the bosom of their fir-tree vaults, And under hatches hide themselves from death. The Cornish band made havoc of their ranks, Like Scythian wolves 'midst of a bleating fold: The jingling lances, rattling chariot-wheels, Madded their horse. The bowmen merrily shot.

BEL. Yet would our tributary kings had succour'd! We are decay'd, they much in number grown, And surely will make head again.

CAS. Fear not; thou know'st I can even with a whistle Hide Kent with glitt'ring arms. More flaming sparkles Paint not a freezing night; nor speckl'd bees Buz not about sweet Hybla's bloomy head. But what need millions, when some thousand serve? O, did my brother live! we'd climb the Alps. Like brave Mulmutius' sons: make Romulus' wolf Howl horror in their streets, and Rome look pale, As when the Punic captain[332] ey'd her walls. [_March out._

CÆSAR, VOLUSENUS, _&c._

CÆS. Are ye the men, who never fought in vain? Who wear Bellona's favours in your scars? Ay, ye are they. What then benumbs our spirits? Our empire from Quirinus' narrow centre Doth circling spread, and finds no brink nor bottom. Titan no later sets nor earlier wakes, Than he beholds our provinces. Why, then, What privilege hath this place? have we or they The Phrygian powers? have they Palladium got? No, no; those gods our capitol keeps with joy; These only have undaunted minds from Troy.

_Enter_ Q. ATRIUS.

What news, good Atrius?

ATRIUS. No good news from Atrius. When ominous earth with shade and cloudy vapours Had darkness doubled, storms began to sound, The dappl'd south, rough-footed Aquilo, Came rushing like two rams, whose steeled horns Dart fiery sparks: the clouds (crush'd) breathe out flames: Thunder and lightning daunt all ears and eyes: The winds and billows strive who loudest roar:

The sky distill'd in rain: his room to fill, Ambitious waves would climb the starry hill. Our ships are batter'd all, some forty sunk.

CÆS. What devil Cacus drags our fortune back![333] Doth she move retrograde, and hoist us up, That we may fall at height? why doth Camillus Each night torment my sleep, and cry revenge? I strive against the stream.

_Enter_ ANDROGEUS, MANDUBRATIUS, _Soldiers_.

AND. Thus join we standards; and resign the keys Of Troynovant with all our warlike forces.

MAN. By me the Trinobants[334] submit, and Cenimagnians, Segontiacs, Ancalites, Bybrocs, and Cassians: Six worthy nations do desire thy guard.

CÆS. All, all shall know our love.

MAN. The tyrant lies on Isis' flow'ry banks, Where a full choir sing of white surplic'd swans. The ford's unlevel belly they have fenc'd With sharp stakes under water.

CÆS. Nor stakes, lakes, fords, nor swords shall check our progress. Those downy swans shall hear more funeral notes. Their kings departed, Nennius dead, whose loss Would tears extort even from pumicean eyes: Had Britain nurs'd but such another champion, They might have stuck their darts on our barr'd gates, And Latium trembled with contrary fates.[335] In what now lies their hope?

MAN. Great numbers still remain: nay, worse, they laugh At death, and boldly trust (as Druids preach) Their souls who die in fight shall live in joy. Hence count they dangers benefits, and die With freedom in their mouth and wilful rage. But let soft mildness wait on women; let Thy wrath ring through the woods in dusty noise, To tell thy coming. No man's built so lofty, But his foundation meets the humble dust; Which undermin'd, how high he pierc'd the clouds, So deep he sinks. Hostile and civil foes shake top and root, As winds invade above and mines below. And so will we.

CÆS. No doubt: this blow shall like an earthquake move The roots and pillars of this sea-clipp'd isle. A cloud of vultures shall attend our camp, And no more shall the fields bear vert, but gules:[336] The grain, engrain'd in purple dye, shall lose His verdant hue. Bones, marrow, human limbs Shall putrifying reek, whose vapour'd slime, Kindl'd on high, may breed long-bearded stars, To tell more mischief, and outbeard Apollo.

MAN. Let's waste no time, lest more unto him flock, As humours glide to guard the wounded member.

CÆS. Atrius, let our ships be drawn on shore, New-rigg'd and mended. I must needs confess him A darling of the gods, under whose colours Stars, winter, sky, and tempests serve in pay, And know both march and skirmish by his drum. [_Exeunt._