Enter CARATACH and HENGO.
- How does my boy?
- I would do well; my heart's well;
I do not fear.
- My good boy!
- I know, uncle
We must all die; my little brother died,
I saw him die, and he died smiling; sure
There's no great pain in't, uncle. But pray tell me,
Whither must we go when we are dead?
- Strange questions!
Why, to the blessedest place, boyEver sweetness
And happiness dwells there.
- Will you come to me?
- Yes, my sweet boy.
- Mine aunt too, and my cousins?
- All, my good child.
- No Romans, uncle?
- No, boy.
- I should be loth to meet them there.
- No ill men,
That live by violence, and strong oppression,
Come thither; 'tis for those the gods love, good men.
- Why, then, I care not when I go, for surely
I am persuaded they love me: I never
Blasphemed 'em, uncle nor transgressed my parents;
I always said my prayers.
- Thou shalt go then,
Indeed thou shalt.
- When they please.
- That's my good boy!
Art thou not weary, Hengo?
- Weary, uncle?
I have heard you say you have march'd all day in armour.
- I have, boy.
- Am not I your kinsman?
- And am not I as fully allied unto you
In those brave things as blood?
- Thou art too tender.
- To go upon my legs? they were made to bear me.
I can play twenty mile a-day; I see no reason,
But to preserve my country and myself,
I should march forty.
- What wouldst thou be, living
To wear a man's strength!
- Why, a Caratach,
A Roman-hater, a scourge sent from Heaven
To whip these proud thieves from our kingdom. Hark,
Hark, uncle, hark! I hear a drum.
Enter JUDAS and his Soldiers,
and stand on one side of the stage.
- Beat softly,
Softly, I say: they are here. Who dare charge?
- 1 Soldier.
That dares be knock'd o' th' head: I'll not come near him.
- Retire again, and watch then. How he stares!
He has eyes would kill a dragon. Mark the boy well;
If we could take or kill himA pox on ye,
How fierce ye look! See, how he broods the boy!
The devil dwells in's scabbard. Back, I say!
Apace, apace! he has found us.
- Do ye hunt us?
- Uncle, good uncle, see! the thin starved rascal,
The eating Roman, see where he thrids the thickets:
Kill him, dear uncle, kill him! one good blow
To knock his brains into his breech; strike's head off
That I may piss in's face.
- Do ye make us foxes?
Here, hold my charging-staff, and keep the place, boy!
I am at bay, and like a bull I'll bear me.
Stand, stand, ye rogues, ye squirrels!
- Now he pays 'em;
Oh, that I had a man's strength!
- Here's the boy;
Mine own, I thank my fortune.
- Uncle, uncle!
Famine is fallen upon me, uncle.
- Come, sir,
Yield willingly (your uncle's out of hearing),
I'll tickle your young tail else.
- I defy thee,
Thou mock-made man of mat! Charge home, sirrah!
Hang thee, base slave, thou shakest.
- Upon my conscience,
The boy wiil beat me! how it looks, how bravely,
How confident the worm is! a scabb'd boy
To handle me thus!Yield, or I cut thy head off.
- Thou darest not cut my finger; here 'tis, touch it.
- The boy speaks sword and buckler! Pr'ythee yield, boy;
Come, here's an apple, yield.
- By Heaven, he fears me!
I'll give you sharper language:When, ye coward,
When come ye up?
- If he should beat me
- When, sir?
I long to kill thee! Come, thou canst not 'scape me;
I have twenty ways to charge thee, twenty deaths
Attend my bloody staff.
- Sure 'tis the devil,
A dwarf devil in a doublet!
- I have killed
A captain, sirrah, a brave captain, and when I have done,
I have kicked him thus. Look here: see how I charge
[Kicks and beats him with the truncheon of Caratack.
- Most certain this boy will cut my throat yet.
Enter two Soldiers running.
- 1 Soldier.
- Flee, flee! he kills us.
- 2 Soldier.
- He comes, he comes!
- The devil take the hindmost!
[Exeunt Judas and Soldiers.
- Run, run, ye rogues, ye precious rogues, ye rank rogues!
'A comes, 'a comes, 'a comes, 'a comes! that's he, boys!
What a brave cry they make!
Enter CARATACH with a Head.
- How does my chicken?
- 'Faith, uncle, grown a soldier, a great soldier;
For, by the virtue of your charging-staff,
And a strange fighting face I put upon't,
I have out-brav'd Hunger.
- That's my boy, my sweet boy!
Here, here's a Roman's head for thee.
- Good provision!
Before I starve, my sweet-faced gentleman,
I'll try your favour.
- A right complete soldier!
Come, chicken, let's go seek some place of strength
(The country's full of scouts) to rest a while in;
Thou wilt not else be able to endure
The journey to my country. Fruits and water
Must be your food a while, boy.
can eat moss, nay, I can live on anger,
To vex these Romans. Let's be wary, uncle.
- I warrant thee; come cheerfully.
- And boldly!