Pet. Your leave, sir;

It cannot be he dare out-live this fortune;
He must die, 'tis most necessary; men expect it,
And thought of life in him goes beyond coward.
Forsake the field so basely? Fy upon it!
So poorly to betray his worth, so coldly
To cut all credit from the soldier? Sure
If this man mean to live, (as I should think it
Beyond belief) he must retire, where never
The name of Rome, the voice of arms, or honour,
Was known or heard of yet. He's certain dead,
Or strongly means it; he's no soldier else,
No Roman in him; all he has done but outside,
Fought either drunk or desperate. Now he rises.
How does lord Penius?

Pen. As you see.

Pet. I'm glad on't;

Continue so still. The lord general,

The valiant general, great Suetonius—— Pen. No more of me is spoken; my name is perished.

Pet. He that commanded fortune and the day, By his own valour and discretion,

(When, as some say, Penius refused to come, But I believe them not) sent me to see you. Pen. Ye are welcome; and pray see me, see me well;

You shall not see me long.

Pet. I hope so, Penius.— The gods defend, sir!

Pen. See me and understand me: This is he, Left to fill up your triumph; he, that basely Whistled his honour off to the wind, that coldly Shrunk in his politic head, when Rome, like

reapers,

Sweat blood and spirit for a glorious harvest,
And bound it up, and brought it off; that fool,
That, having gold and copper offered him,
Refused the wealth, and took the waste; that sol-
dier,

That being courted by loud Fame and Fortune,
Labour in one hand that propounds us gods,
And, in the other, Glory that creates us,
Yet durst doubt and be damned!

Pet. It was an error.

Pen. A foul one, and a black one.

Pet. Yet the blackest

May be washed white again.

And bring along all comfort: Are we gods,
Allied to no infirmities? are our natures
More than men's natures? When we slip a little
Out of the way of virtue, are we lost?

Is there no medicine called sweet mercy?
Pen. None, Petillius;

There is no mercy in mankind can reach me,
Nor is it fit it should; I've sinned beyond it.
Pet. Forgiveness meets with all faults.
Pen. 'Tis all faults,

All sins I can commit, to be forgiven;
'Tis loss of whole man in me, my discretion,
To be so stupid, to arrive at pardon!
Pet. Oh, but the general-

Pen. He is a brave gentleman,

A valiant, and a loving; and, I dare say,
He would, as far as honour durst direct him,
Make even with my fault; but 'tis not honest,
Nor in his power: examples, that may nourish
Neglect and disobedience in whole bodies,
And totter the estates and faiths of armies,
Must not be played withal; nor out of pity
Make a general forget his duty;

Nor dare I hope more from him than is worthy.
Pet. What would you do?
Pen. Die.

Pet. So would sullen children,

Women that want their wills, slaves disobedient, That fear the law. Die? Fy, great captain! you A man to rule men, to have thousand lives Under your regiment, and let your passion Betray your reason? I bring you all forgiveness, The noblest kind commends, your place, your

honour

Say they are won to pardon you, by mere miracle
Brought to forgive you, what old valiant soldier,
What man that loves to fight, and fight for Rome,
Will ever follow you more! Dare you know these
ventures?

If so, I bring you comfort; dare you take it?
Pen. No, no, Petillius, no.

Pet. If your mind serve you,

You may live still; but how? yet pardon me: You may out-wear all too; but when? and cer

tain

There is a mercy for each fault, if tamely
A man will take it upon conditions.

Pen. No, by no means: I am only thinking

now, sir,

(For I am resolved to go) of a most base death,
Fitting the baseness of my fault. I'll hang.
Pet. You shall not; you are a gentleman I
honour;

I would else flatter you, and force you live,
Which is far baser. Hanging? 'tis a dog's death,
An end for slaves.

Pen. The fitter for my baseness.

Pet. Besides, the man, that is hanged, preaches his end,

And sits a sign for all the world to gape at.

Pen. That is true; I'll take a fitter: poison.
Pet. No,

Tis equal ill; the death of rats and women,
Lovers, and lazy boys, that fear correction;
Die like a man.

Pen. Why, my sword, then.

Pet. Ay, if your sword be sharp, sir,

There is nothing under heaven that's like your sword;

Your sword is a death indeed!

Pen. It shall be sharp, sir.

Pet. Why, Mithridates was an arrant ass To die by poison, if all Bosphorus

Could lend him swords: Your sword must do the

deed;

Tis shame to die choaked, fame to die and bleed. Pen. Thou hast confirmed me; and, my good Petillius,

Tell me no more I may live.

Pet. 'Twas my commission;

But now I see you in a nobler way,

A way to make all even.

Pen. Farewell, captain!

|

Be a good man, and fight well; be obedient; Command thyself, and then thy men. Why sha

kest thou?

Pet. I do not, sir.

Pen. I would thou hadst, Petillius!

I would find something to forsake the world with,
Worthy the man that dies: a kind of earthquake
Through all stern valours but mine own.
Pet. I feel now

A kind of trembling in me.

Pen. Keep it still;

As thou lovest virtue, keep it.

Pet. And, brave captain,

VOL. I.

The great and honoured Penius !—
Pen. That again!

Oh, how it heightens me! again, Petillius !
.Pet. Most excellent commander !-
Pen. Those were mine,

Mine, only mine!

Pet. They are still.

Pen. Then, to keep them

From ever falling more, have at ye! Heavens,
Ye everlasting powers, I'm yours: The work is
.. done,
[Kills himself.
That neither fire, nor age, nor melting envy,
Shall ever conquer. Carry my last words
To the great general: kiss his hands,, and say,
My soul I give to Heaven, my fault to justice,
Which I have done upon myself; my virtue,
If ever there was any in poor Penius,
Made more, and happier, light on him!-I faint-
And where there is a foe, I wish him fortune.
I die. Lie lightly on my ashes, gentle earth! [Dies.
Pet. And on my sin! Farewell, great Penius!
The soldier is in fury; now I'm glad [Noise wi-
thin.

'Tis done before he comes. This way for me, The way of toil; for thee, the way of honour! [Exit.

Enter DRUSIUS and REGULUS, with soldiers. Sold. Kill him, kill him, kill him!

Drus. What will ye do?

Reg. Good soldiers, honest soldiers-
Sold. Kill him, kill him, kill him!

Drus. Kill us first; we command too.

Reg. Valiant soldiers,

Consider but whose life ye seek.-Oh, Drusius, Bid him be gone; he dies else.-Shall Rome say, Ye most approved soldiers, her dear children Devoured the fathers of the fight? shall rage And stubborn fury guide those swords to slaugh ter,

To slaughter of their own, to civil ruin?

Drus. Oh, let them in; all's done, all's ended,

Regulus;

Penius has found his last eclipse. Come, soldiers,
Come, and behold your miseries; come bravely,
Full of your mutinous and bloody angers,
And here bestow your darts. Oh, only Roman!
Oh, father of the wars!

Reg. Why stand ye stupid?

Where be your killing furies? whose sword now
Shall first be sheathed in Penius? Do ye weep?
Howl out, ye wretches! ye have cause; howl ever!
Who shall now lead ye fortunate? whose valour
Preserve ye to the glory of your country?
Who shall march out before ye, coyed and courted
By all the mistresses of war, Care, Counsel,
Quick-eyed Experience, and Victory twined to
him?

Who shall beget ye deeds beyond inheritance
To speak your names, and keep your honours li-

ving,

him,

Build houses for ye to oblivion?

Drus. Oh, ye poor desperate fools, no more now soldiers,

Go home, and hang your arms up; let rust rot

them;

And humble your stern valours to soft prayers! For ye have sunk the frame of all your virtues; The sun, that warmed your bloods, is set for ever. I'll kiss thy honoured cheek. Farewell, great Penius,

Thou thunderbolt, farewell!-Take up the body: To-morrow, mourning, to the camp convey it, There to receive due ceremonies. That eye That blinds itself with weeping, gets most glory. [Exeunt with a dead march.

Enter SUETONIS, JUNIUS, DECIUS, DEMETRIUS, CURIUS, and Soldiers: BONDUCA, two Daughters, and NENNIUS above. Drum and colours. Suet. Bring up the catapults, and shake the wall; We will not be outbraved thus.

We love thy nobleness.

[Exit Decius.

Bond. I thank ye! ye say well;
But mercy and love are sins in Rome and hell.
Suet. You cannot escape our strength; you
must yield, lady;

You must adore and fear the power of Rome.
Bond. If Rome be earthly, why should any knee
With bending adoration worship her?
She's vicious; and, your partial selves confess,
Aspires the height of all impiety;
Therefore 'tis fitter I should reverence

The thatched houses, where the Britons dwell
In careless mirth; where the blessed household
gods

See nought but chaste and simple purity.

Tis not high power that makes a place divine,
Nor that the men from gods derive their line;
But sacred thoughts, in holy bosoms stored,
Make people noble, and the place adored.
Suet. Beat the wall deeper!
Bond. Beat it to the centre,
We will not sink one thought.
Suet, I'll make ye.

Bond. No.

1 Daugh. General,

Hear me, and mark me well, and look upon me,
Directly in my face, my woman's face,
Whose only beauty is the hate it bears ye;
See with thy narrowest eyes, thy sharpest wishes,
Into my soul, and see what there inhabits;
See if one fear, one shadow of a terror,
One paleness dare appear but from my anger,
To lay hold on your mercies. No, ye fools,
Poor Fortune's fools, we were not born for tri-
umphs,

To follow your gay sports, and fill your slaves | With hoots and acclamations. Pet. Brave behaviour!

1 Daugh. The children of as great as Romé,

as noble,

Our names before her, and our deeds her envy,
Must we gild o'er your conquest, make your state,
That is not fairly strong, but fortunate?
No, no, ye Romans! We have ways to escape ye,
To make ye poor again, indeed our prisoners,
And stick our triumphs full.

Pet. 'Sdeath, I shall love her.

1 Daugh. To torture ye with suffering, like our slaves;

To make ye curse our patience, wish the world Were lost again, to win us only, and esteem The end of all ambitions.

Bond. Do ye wonder?

1

[Stabs herself. In all your stories, dare do this for her honour;" They are cowards, eat coals like compelled cats: Your great saint, Lucrece,

meet yonder,

[Exit Nennius.

Where few of these must come.
Nen. Gods take thee, lady!
Boad. Bring up the swords, and poison.

Enter one with swords and a great cup.

2 Dough. Oh, my fortune!

Bond. How, how?

1 Daugh. Ye shall see my example: All your Rome,

If I were proud and loved ambition,

Bond. Here, wench;

Behold us, Romans!
Suet. Mercy yet.
Bond. No talking!

Puff! there goes all your pity. Come, short prayers,

And let us dispatch the business! You begin; Shrink not, I'll see you do it.

2 Daugh. Oh, gentle mother!

Oh, Romans! Oh, my heart! I dare not.
Suet. Woman, woman,

Unnatural woman!

2 Daugh. Oh, persuade her, Romans!

Alas, I'm young, and would live. Noble mother,
Can ye kill that, ye gave life? Are my years
Fit for destruction?

Suet. Yield, and be a queen still,

A mother, and a friend.

Bond. Ye talk! Come, hold it,

And put it home,

1 Daugh. Fy, sister, fy!

What would you live to be?

2 Daugh. Mercy!

Suet. Hear her, thou wretched woman!

2 Daugh. Mercy, mother!

Oh, whither will you send me? I was once

Your darling, your delight.

Bond. Oh, gods! fear in my family?

Do it, and nobly.

2 Daugh. Oh, do not frown, then.

1 Daugh. Do it, worthy sister;

Bond. Make haste.

1 Daugh. I will-could not entice to live, But two short hours, this frailty. Would ye learn How to die bravely, Romans, to fling off This case of flesh, lose all your cares for ever? Live, as we have done, well, and fear the gods; Hunt honour, and not nations, with your swords; Keep your minds humble, your devotions high; So shall ye learn the noblest part to die. [Dies. Bond. I come, wench.-To ye all, Fate's hang

Ye sweat for us in vain else: See him here,[Drinks. He's ours; and still our friend; laughs at your pities;

And we command him with as easy reins

2 Daugh. Oh, if I knew but whither!

1 Daugh. To the blessed;

Where we shall meet our father

Suet. Woman!

Bond. Talk not.

Poor vanquished Romans, with what matchless

tortures

Could I now rack ye! But I pity ye,

Desiring to die quiet: Nay, so much I hate to prosecute my victory,

To be in love with death! Most honourable, Excellent Romans, by your ancient valours, As ye love fame, resolve me!

Sold. 'Tis the body

Of the great captain Penius, by himself
Made cold and spiritless.

Car. Oh, stay, ye Romans,

By the religion, which ye owe those gods,
That lead ye on to victories! by those glories,
Which made even pride a virtue in ye!
Drus. Stay.

What is thy will, Caratach?

Cur. Set down the body,

The body of the noblest of all Romans;
As ye expect an offering at your graves
From your friends' sorrows, set it down awhile,
That with your griefs an enemy may mingle,
(A noble enemy, that loves a soldier)

And lend a tear to virtue! Even your foes,
Your wild foes, as you called us, are yet stored
With fair affections, our hearts fresh, our spirits,
Though sometime stubborn, yet when virtue dies,
Soft and relenting as a virgin's prayers:
Oh, set it down!

Drus. Set down the body, soldiers.

Car. Thou hallowed relic, thou rich diamond, Cut with thine own dust; thou, for whose wide

fame

The world appears too narrow, man's all thoughts,
Had they all tongues, too silent: thus I bow
To thy most honoured ashes! Though an enemy,
Yet friend to all thy worths, sleep peaceably;
Happiness crown thy soul, and in thy earth
Some laurel fix his seat, there grow and flourish,
And make thy grave an everlasting triumph!
Farewell all glorious wars, now thou art gone,
And honest arms, adieu! All noble battles,
Maintained in thirst of honour, not of blood,
Farewell for ever!

Hengo. Was this Roman, uncle,
So good a man?

Car. Thou never knewest thy father.
Hengo. He died before I was born.
Car. This worthy Roman

Was such another piece of endless honour,