Chor. Servant of Cæsar, has thine impious tongue Spent the black venom of its blasphemy? It has. Then take our curses on thine head, Ev'n his fell curses, who doth reign in Mona, Vicegerent of those gods thy pride insults. Aul. Did. Bold priest, I scorn thy curses, and thyself. Soldiers, go search the caves, and free the prisoners. Arrest yon youth; load him with heaviest irons, Elid. I stand prepar'd to triumph in my crime. Aul. Did. 'Tis well, proud boy-Look to the beau[To the soldiers. That tranc'd in grief, bends o'er yon bleeding teous maid, corse, Respect her sorrows. Evel. Hence, ye barbarous men, Ye shall not take him welt'ring thus in blood, Aul. Did. We reverence the dead. Chor. Fear us not, princess, Would too to Heav'n, Ye reverenc'd the gods but ev'n enough What they created free. Aul. Did. The Romans fight Not to enslave, but humanize the world. Chor. Go to, we will not parley with thee, Roman! Instant pronounce our doom. Aul. Did. Hear it, and thank us. This once our clemency shall spare your groves, If at our call ye yield the British king: Yet learn, when next ye aid the foes of Cæsar, That each old oak, whose solemn gloom ye boast, Shall bow beneath our axes. Chor. Be they blasted, Whene'er their shade forgets to shelter virtue! Enter BARD. Bard. Mourn, Mona, mourn. Caractacus is captive! Seiz'd his false throat; and as he gave him death Pinion'd his arms; I saw the sacred sword Writh'd from his grasp: I saw, what now ye see, Inglorious sight! those barbarous bonds upon him. Enter CARACtacus. Car. Romans, methinks the malice of your tyrant Might furnish heavier chains. Old as I am, And wither'd as you see these war-worn limbs, Proud crested soldier, [To DIDIUS. Who seem'st the master-mover in this business, Say, dost thou read less terror on my brow, Than when thou met'st me in the fields of war Heading my nations? No, my free-born soul Has scorn still left to sparkle through these eyes, And frown defiance on thee. Then I'm indeed a captive. Is it thus! [Seeing his son's body. Mighty gods! My soul, my soul submits: patient it bears Aul. Did. Droop not, king. When Claudius, the great master of the world, His pity Can a Roman pity, soldier? Car. Arviragus, my bold, my breathless boy, Shall to thy tomb with annual reverence bring VOL. VÍ. Aul. Did. The morn doth hasten our departure. Prepare thee, king, to go: a fav'ring gale Now swells our sails. Car. Inhuman, that thou art! Dost thou deny a moment for a father To shed a few warm tears o'er his dead son? Than sorrow ever suffer'd. Cruel man! Rash that I was, ne'er knew the golden curb Had sued to him for peace, and claim'd his friend ship. Aul. Did. But thou wast still implacable to Rome, And scorn'd her friendship. Car. (starting up from the body.) Soldier, I had arms, Had neighing steeds to whirl my iron cars, Had wealth, dominion. Dost thou wonder, Roman, I fought to save them? What if Cæsar aims, To lord it universal o'er the world, Shall the world tamely crouch at Cæsar's footstool? Aul. Did. Read in thy fate our answer. Yet if sooner Thy pride had yielded Car. Thank thy gods, I did not. Had it been so, the glory of thy master, Like my misfortunes, had been short and trivial, To bow a wretch, alas! how bow'd already! When trick'd and varnish'd by your glossing penmen, Come hither, youth: be thou to me a son, |