FOOTNOTES:
[251] Brennus, king or leader of the Transalpine Gauls. He won the battle of Allia against the Romans, and in consequence of it made himself master of their city, which he entered about the year 363 from its foundation, and committed every excess which wanton barbarity could dictate. After continuing there some time, he was defeated and driven out of it by Camillus, then an exile, but created dictator on the occasion.
[252] So Milton, in "Comus," l. 811—
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight
Beyond the bliss of dreams."
The thought is much older than Milton, and the following from Chaucer is still more apposite—
—"Wife of Bath's Tale."
Chaucer has nearly the same expression in his "Book of Troilus," l. 1, st. 4—
—Collier.
[253] See Virgil's "Æneid," bk. vi.
[254] "Impyn," says Mr Steevens (note to the "Second Part of Henry IV.," act v. sc. 5), is a Welsh word, and primitively signifies a sprout, a sucker; and by the writers of this period is almost perpetually used for progeny. So in Chaloner's translation of Erasmus's "Praise of Folie," 1549, sig. D 3: "Yet truly more pernicious was he to the common-weale, in leavying so ungracious an ympe as Commodus was," &c.
[255] A stickler was a sidesman to a fencer, so called because he carried a stick, wherewith to part the combatants. See Note to "The Ordinary," [xii. 275.]
[256] Seven stars in the constellation Ursa Minor.
[257] After Brennus had taken the city of Rome, he besieged the Capitol, and in the night attempted to scale the ramparts. The attempt was rendered abortive by the cackling of some geese consecrated to Juno, which were kept as sacred birds, and which being heard, gave an alarm to the garrison in time enough to save the place they defended.
[258] Generally speaking, this play was more accurately reprinted by Mr Reed than any other in the whole collection. Nevertheless, several errors crept in some of them from following the blunders of the old copy, although that is not so incorrect as many others of the same date. In a few instances the punctuation was neglected or mistaken, and such was the case with the passage in the text. It is evident that the ghosts of Camillus are to "incite their countrymen when night and sleep conquer the eyes," from scene 7 of act ii., where they work alternately upon Nennius and Cæsar, who are in "night-robes." Till now the wrong pointing obscured the sense. See also act v., scene 2.—Collier.
[259] i.e., Mars.
ACT I., SCENE I.
Duke Nennius[261] alone.
Redoubled from the concave shores of Gaul:
Methinks I hear their neighing steads, the groans
Of complimental souls taking their leave:
And all the dim and clamorous route which sounds
When falling kingdoms crack in fatal flames.
Die, Belgics,[262] die like men! Free minds need have
Nought but the ground they fight on for their grave:
And we are next. Think ye the smoky mist
Of sun-boil'd seas can stop the eagle's eye?[263]
Or can our wat'ry walls keep dangers out,
Which fly aloft, that thus we snorting lie,
Feeding imposthum'd humours, to be lanc'd
By some outlandish surgeon?
As they are now, whose flaming towns (like beacons)
Give us fair warning, and e'en gild our spires,
Whilst merrily we warm us at their fires.
Yet we are next: who, charm'd with peace and sloth,
Dream golden dreams. Go, warlike Britain, go,
For olive-bough exchange thy hazel-bow:
Hang up thy rusty helmet, that the bee
May have a hive, or spider find a loom:
Instead of soldiers' fare and lodging hard
(The bare ground being their bed and table), lie
Smother'd in down, melting in luxury:
Instead of bellowing drum[264] and cheerful flute,
Be lull'd in lady's lap with amorous lute.
But as for Nennius, know, I scorn this calm:
The ruddy planet at my birth bore sway,
(Sanguine) adust my humour; and wild-fire
(My ruling element), blood and rage, and choler,
Make up the temper of a captain's valour. [Exit.
SCENE II.
Julius Cæsar, Comius Volusenus, Laberius; Soldiers, with ensign, a two-necked eagle displayed sable, drum, ancient, trumpet. A flourish.
Welcome, brave bloods! Now may our weapons sleep,
Since Ariovist in cock-boat basely flies;[265]
Vast Germany stands trembling at our bridge,[266]
And Gaul lies bleeding in her mother's lap.
Once the Pellæan duke did eastward march,[267]
To rouse the drowsy sun, before he rose,
Adorn'd with Indian rubies: but the main
Bade him retire. He was my type. This day
We stand on Nature's western brink; beyond,
Nothing but sea and sky. Here is nil ultra.
Democritus, make good thy fancy; give me
More worlds to conquer, which may be both seen
And won together. But methinks I ken
A whitish cloud kissing the waves, or else
Some chalky rocks surmount the barking flood.
Comius, your knowledge can correct our eyes.
Displays her shining cliffs unto your sight.
Invites destruction, and gives to our eye
A treacherous beck. Dare but resist, your shore
Shall paint her pale face with red crimson gore.
Their secret aid unto the neighbour Gauls;
Fostering their fugitives with friendly care:
Which made your victory fly with slower wing.
Abroad for war; we'll bring him to their doors.
His ugly idol shall displace their gods,
Their dear Penates, and in desolate streets
Raise trophies high of barbarous bones, whose stench
May poison all the rest. I long to stride
This Hellespont, or bridge it with a navy,
Disclosing to our empire unknown lands,
Until the arctic star for zenith stands.
And unawares pour vengeance on their heads.
Be like the winged bolt of angry Jove,
Or chiding torrent, whose late-risen stream
From mountains' bended top runs raging down,
Deflow'ring all the virgin dales.
Rash weapons, which lack counsel grave at home.
Will curbed be with terms of civil right.
When we propose, and they do peace deny.
We'll therefore wise embassadors despatch,
Parents of love, the harbingers of leagues;
Men that may speak with mildness mix'd with courage,
Having quick feet, broad eyes, short tongues, long ears,
To warn the British court.
And further view the ports, fathom the seas,
Learn their complotments, where invasion may
Be soonest entertain'd. All this shall lie
On Volusene, a legate and a spy.
Meantime unite, and range your scatter'd troops:
Embark your legions at the Iccian shore,
And teach Erynnis[269] swim, which crawl'd before. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Cassibelanus, Androgeus, Tenantius, Belinus, Attendants.
This regal staff, whose massy weight would bruise
Your age and pleasures; yet this, nephews, know,
Your trouble less, your honour is the same,
As if you wore the diadem of this isle.
Meanwhile, Androgeus, hold unto your use
Our lady-city Troynovant,[270] and all
The toll and tribute of delicious Kent;
Of which each quarter can maintain a king.
Have you, Tenantius, Cornwall's dukedom large,
Both rich and strong in metals and in men.
I must to Verulam's fenc'd town repair,
And as protector for the whole take care.
State mysteries, false graces, jealous fears,
The linings of a crown, forsake my brain:
These territories neither are too wide
To trouble my content, nor yet too narrow
To feed a princely train.
With treble-twisted love we'll strive to make
One soul inform three bodies, keeping still
The same affections both in good and ill.
Now am I for a hunting-match. Yon thickets
Shelter a boar, which spoil's the ploughman's hope:
Whose jaws with double sword, whose back is arm'd
With bristled pikes; whose fume inflames the air,
And foam besnows the trampled corn. This beast
I long to see come smoking to a feast. [Exit Tenantius.
Enter Rollano.
What news, Rollano, that thy feet so strive
To have precedence of each other? Speak!
I read disturbed passions on thy brow.
That scarce I can with broken sounds vent forth
These sad, strange, sudden, dreary, dismal news.
A merchant's ship arriv'd tells how the Roman,
Having run Gaul quite through with bloody arms,
Prepares for you: his navy, rigg'd in bay,
Only expects a gale. Farther, they say
A pinnace landed from him brings command
Either to lose your freedom or your land.
Dreads he not our sea-monsters, whose wild shapes
Their theatres ne'er yet in picture saw?
Come, sirs, to arms! to arms! Let speedy posts
Summon our petty kings, and muster up
Our valorous nations from the north and west.
Androgeus, haste you to the Scots and Picts,
Two names which now Albania's kingdom share:
Entreat their aid, if not for love, yet fear!
For new foes should imprint swift-equal fear
Through all the arteries of this our isle.
Belinus, thy authority must rouse
The vulgar troops within thy[271] special charge.
Fire [all] the beacons, strike alarums loud:
Raise all the country 'gainst this common foe.
This news more moves my choler than my fear. [Exeunt.
Rollano alone.
To Germany for fear of Roman arms:
But when their bridge bridled the stately Rhine,
I soon return'd, and thought to hide my head
In this soft halcyon's nest, this Britain isle.
And now, behold, Mars is a-nursing here,
And 'gins to speak aloud.
Is no nook safe from Rome? Do they still haunt me?
Some peaceful god transport me through the air,
Beyond cold Thule[272] or the sun's bedchamber,
Where only swine or goats do live and reign.
Yet these may fight. Place me where quiet peace
Hushes all storms; where sleep and silence dwell,
Where never man nor beast did wrong the soil,
Or crop the first-fruits, or made so much noise
As with their breath. But, foolish thoughts, adieu:
Now catch I must, or stand or fall with you. [Exit.
SCENE IV.
Eulinus, Hirildas.
And ladies are the tissue-spangled suits,
Which Nature wears on festival high days.
The Court a spring: each madam is a rose.
The Court is heaven, fair ladies are the stars.[273]
Whose beauteous rays can strike rash gazers blind.
My mistress' praise. Her beauty's past compare:
O, would she were more kind, or not so fair!
Her modest smiles both curb and kindle love.
The court is dark without her: when she rises,
The morning is her handmaid, strewing roses.
About love's hemisphere. The lamps above
Eclipse themselves for shame to see her eyes,
Outshine their chrysolites, and more bless the skies
Than they the earth.
Transparent mould, not of gross elements
Compacted, but th' extracted quintessence
Of sweetest forms distill'd; whose graces bright
Do live immur'd, but not exempt from sight.
And painters' pencils: all the lively nymphs,
Syrens, and Dryads are but kitchen-maids,
If you compare. To frame the like Pandore,[274]
The gods repine, and nature would grow poor.
Pallas' grey eye, Venus her dimpled chin,
Aurora's rosy fingers, the small waist
Of Ceres' daughter, and Medusa's hair,
Before it hiss'd.
Call home thy soul, and tell thy mistress' name.
These attributes describe her? Why, she is
A rhapsody of goddesses; the elixir
Of all their several perfections. She is
(Now bless your ears!) by mortals call'd Landora.
How grow your hopes? what metal is her breast?
Her lily white with blood of lovers slain,
Their groans make music, and their scalding sighs
Raise a perfume, and vulture-like she gnaws
Their bleeding hearts. No gifts, no learned flattery,
No stratagems, can work Landora's battery.
As a tall rock maintains majestic state,
Though Boreas gallop on the tottering seas,
And tilting split his froth out, spurging waves
Upon his surly breast; so she resists,
And all my projects on her cruel heart
Are but retorted to their author's smart.
Conquer thyself, if thou wilt conquer her:
Stomachs with kindness cloy'd disdain must stir.
And loving die, than living cease to love:
And when I faint, let her but hear my cry.
Ah me! there's none which truly loves, but I.
This lady-wasp wooes me, as thou dost her,
With glances, jewels, bracelets of her hair,
Lascivious banquets and most eloquent eyes:
All which my heart misconstrues as immodest,
It being pointed for another pole.
But hence learn courage, coz. Why stand you dumb?
Women are women, and may be o'ercome.
Like henbane juice or aconite diffus'd,
They strike me senseless.
My kinsman and Hirildas, to my end;
But I'll ne'er call you councillor or friend.
Adieu.
To waft you to your happy landing-place.
Seeing this crocodile pursues me flying,
Flies you pursuing, we'll catch her by a trick.
With promise feign'd I'll 'point a Cupid's stage,
But in the night and secret, and disguis'd,
Where thou, which art myself, shalt act my part.
In Venus' games all cosening goes for art.
Now 'gin I rear my crest above the moon.
And in those gilded books read lectures of
The feminine sex. There moves Cassiope,
Whose garments shine with thirteen precious stones,
Types of as many virtues: then her daughter,
Whose beauty without Perseus would have tam'd
The monstrous fish, glides with a starry crown:
Then just Astrea kembs her golden hair:
And my Landora can become the skies
As well as they. O, how my joys do swell!
He mounted not more proud whose burning throne
Kindled the cedar-tops, and quaff'd whole fountains,
Fly then, ye winged hours, as swift as thought
Or my desires: let day's bright waggoner
Fall headlong, and lie buried in the deep,
And (dormouse-like) Alcides night outsleep:
Good Tethys, quench his beams, that he ne'er rise
To scorch the Moors, to suck up honey-dews,
Or to betray my person.
But prythee, tell what mistress you adore?
Only some jar of late about a favour
Made me inveigh 'gainst women. Come away,
Our plots desire the night, not babbling day.
To sing in synod, as their custom is
With former chance comparing present deeds. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Chorus of five Bards-Laureate, four Voices, and a Harper; attired.
1. Song.
Birds do sing:
Now with high,
Then low cry.
Flat, acute;
And salute,
The sun, born
Every morn.
The praises of the flow'ry spring.
All in green,
Doth delight
To paint white,
And to spread
Cruel red
With a blue,
Colour true.
Hunter's hue.
Shepherd's grey
Crown'd with bay,
With his pipe
Care doth wipe,
Till he dream
By the stream.
Turtle-doves,
Sit and bill
On a hill.
Country swains
On the plains
Run and leap,
Turn and skip.
Care away.
Fairies small,
Two foot tall,
With caps red
On their head,
Dance around
On the ground.
Cloth'd in white,
With neck fair,
Yellow hair,
Rocks doth move
With her love,
And make mild
Tigers wild.
The praises of the flow'ry spring.
2d Song.
While peace and spring do smile;
But I hear a sound of slaughter
Draw nearer to our isle.
The oaten reed forbear;
For I hear a sound of battle,
And trumpets tear the air.
Let crowd[276] and harp be dumb:
Let little tabor come behind:
For I hear the dreadful drum.
No fountains murmuring go:
Let shepherd's crook be made a lance.
For the martial horns do blow. [Exeunt.
FOOTNOTES:
[260] Bring you back. Reduco, Lat.—Steevens.
[261] Dux Nennius. The leaders of armies are on this account styled Dukes by many of our ancient English translators; as Duke Æneas, Duke Hannibal, &c.—Steevens.
[262] [Natives of Gallia Belgica, a province comprising the Duchy of Treves, part of Luxembourg, and the departments of the Meuse, Moselle, Meurthe, and Vosges. Hazlitt's "Classical Gazetteer," 1851, p. 71.]
[263] The same turn of thought occurs in Mr Gray's celebrated ode called "The Bard"—
Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day?"
—Steevens.
[264] Imitated from the first speech of Gloster in "King Richard III."
[265] "In bis fuit Ariovistus, qui naviculam deligatam ad ripam nactus ea profugit."—Cæsar "De Bello Gallico," lib. i. s. 53.
[266] See Cæsar "De Bello Gallico," lib, iv., s. 17, for an account of this bridge over the Rhine.
[267] Alexander the Great. Pella was a city of Macedon, where he was born.
[268] A term in archery.
[269] Erynnis is the common name of the sister Furies, but is frequently used by the poets for mischief in general.—Steevens.
[270] The ancient name of London.
[271] [Old copy, my.]
[272] There is no place oftener mentioned by the ancients than Thule, nor any one about the situation of which there has been a greater variety of opinions. Sir Robert Sibbald, in the additions to Camden, has given a discourse concerning the Thule of the ancients, in which the sentiments of different writers on this subject are considered, and many of them refuted. Camden supposes Shetland to be the place so often distinguished by the name of Thule; and Bishop Gibson appears to agree with him in the conjecture. See Camden's "Britannia." vol. ii. p. 411, edit. 1772.
[273] So in Shakespeare's "King Henry VIII."—
And sometimes falling ones."
—Steevens.
[274] Pandora was a woman formed by Vulcan, with the joint contribution of all the gods, every one of whom bestowed on her some grace or beauty.—Steevens.
[275] In the old copy the four last letters of breath have dropped out by accident, but they are no doubt rightly restored.—Collier.
ACT II, SCENE I.
Cassibelanus, Cridous, Britael, Guerthed, Nennius, Belinus, Eulinus. Volusenus following.
And Britael, deck'd with the Demetian crown:
The same to famous Guerthed, whose command
Embraces woody Ordovic's black hills.
Legate, you may your message now declare.
This letter speaks the rest.
Volusenus reads.
"Cæsar, Proconsul of Gallia, to Cassibelane, King of Britain.
Have stretch'd their empire wide
From Danube's banks (by Tigris swift)
Unto Mount Atlas' side:
And provinces and nations strong
With homage due obey;
We wish that you, hid in the sea,
Do likewise tribute pay.
Submitting all unto our wills
For rashly aiding Gaul:
And noble lads for hostages
Make ready at our call.
These granted may our friendship gain;
Denied shall work your woe.
Now take your choice, whether you'd find
Rome as a friend or foe."
Legate, withdraw; you shall be soon despatch'd.
[Exit Volusenus.
Whose greatness, risen from subdued nations,
Is fasten'd only with fear's slippery knot.
Nor can they fight so fierce for wealth or fame,
As we for native liberty. With answer rough
Bid him defiance. So thinks Cridous.
Seven-headed Hydra, know, we scorn thy threats:
We can oppose thy hills with mounts as high,
And scourge usurpers with like cruelty.
And thus thinks Britael.
And wants an object, whose resisting power
May strike out valorous flashes from her veins.
So shadows give a picture life: so flames
Grow brighter by a fanning blast. Nor think
I am a courtier and no warrior born,
Nor love object; for well my poet says:[277]
Militat omnis amans, each lover is a soldier:
I can join Cupid's bow and Mars his lance.
A pewter-coat fits me as well as silk.
It grieves me see our martial spirits trace
The idle streets, while weapons by their side
Dangle and lash their backs, as 'twere to upbraid
Their needless use. Nor is it glory small
They set upon us last, when their proud arms
Fathom the land and seas, and reach both poles.
On, then; so great a foe, so good a cause,
Shall make our name more famous. So thinks Eulinus.
First to your country to revenge her wrongs;
And next to me, as general, to be led
With unity and courage. [They kiss the sword.
You see what storm hangs hovering o'er this land,
Ready to pour down cataclysms[279] of blood:
Let ancient glory then inflame your hearts.
Beyond the craggy hills of grim-fac'd Death,
Bright Honour keeps triumphant court, and deeds
Of martial men live there in marble rolls.
Death is but Charon to the fortunate isles;
Porter to Fame.
What though the Roman, arm'd with foreign spoil,
Behind him lead the conquer'd world, and hope
To sink our island with his army's weight:
Yet we have gods and men and horse to fight,
And we can bravely die. But our just cause,
Your forward loves, and all our people edg'd
With Dardan[280] spirit and the powerful name
Of country, bid us hope for victory.
We have a world within ourselves, whose breast
No foreigner hath unrevenged press'd
These thousand years. Though Rhine and Rhone can serve,
And envy Thames his never captive stream,
Yet maugre all, if we ourselves are true,
We may despise what all the earth can do.[281]
And draw our forces t'ward the sea, to join
With the four kings of Kent, and so affront[282]
His first arrival. But, before all, let
Our priests and Druids, in their hallow'd groves,
Propitiate the gods, and scan events
By their mysterious arts. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Eulinus, Hirildas, Rollano.