[_Scene: A field between the British and the Roman camps._]
_Caratach_--How does my boy?
_Hengo_--I would do well; my heart's well;
I do not fear.
_Caratach_--My good boy!
_Hengo_--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?
_Caratach [aside]_--Strange questions!
Why, the blessed'st place, boy! ever sweetness
And happiness dwell there.
_Hengo_--Will you come to me?
_Caratach_--Yes, my sweet boy.
_Hengo_--Mine aunt too, and my cousins?
_Caratach_--All, my good child.
_Hengo_--No Romans, uncle?
_Caratach_--No, boy.
_Hengo_--I should be loath to meet them there.
_Caratach_--No ill men,
That live by violence and strong oppression,
Come thither: 'tis for those the gods love, good men.
_Hengo_--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.
_Caratach_--Thou shalt go, then;
Indeed thou shalt.
_Hengo_--When they please.
_Caratach_--That's my good boy!
Art thou not weary, Hengo?
_Hengo_--Weary, uncle!
I have heard you say you have marched all day in armor.
_Caratach_--I have, boy.
_Hengo_--Am not I your kinsman?
_Caratach_--Yes.
_Hengo_--And am not I as fully allied unto you
In those brave things as blood?
_Caratach_--Thou art too tender.
_Hengo_--To go upon my legs? they were made to bear me.
I can play twenty miles a day; I see no reason
But, to preserve my country and myself,
I should march forty.
_Caratach_--What wouldst thou be, living
To wear a man's strength!
_Hengo_--Why, a Caratach,
A Roman-hater, a scourge sent from Heaven
To whip these proud thieves from our kingdom. Hark!
[_Drum within._]
* * * * *
[_They are on a rock in the rear of a wood._]
_Caratach_--Courage, my boy! I have found meat: look, Hengo,
Look where some blessèd Briton, to preserve thee,
Has hung a little food and drink: cheer up, boy;
Do not forsake me now.
_Hengo_--O uncle, uncle,
I feel I cannot stay long! yet I'll fetch it,
To keep your noble life. Uncle, I am heart-whole,
And would live.
_Caratach_--Thou shalt, long, I hope.
_Hengo_--But my head, uncle!
Methinks the rock goes round.
[_Enter Macer and Judas, and remain at the side of the stage._]
_Macer_--Mark 'em well, Judas.
_Judas_--Peace, as you love your life.
_Hengo_--Do not you hear
The noise of bells?
_Caratach_--Of bells, boy! 'tis thy fancy;
Alas, thy body's full of wind!
_Hengo_--Methinks, sir,
They ring a strange sad knell, a preparation
To some near funeral of state: nay, weep not,
Mine own sweet uncle; you will kill me sooner.
_Caratach_--O my poor chicken!
_Hengo_--Fie, faint-hearted uncle!
Come, tie me in your belt and let me down.
_Caratach_--I'll go myself, boy.
_Hengo_--No, as you love me, uncle:
I will not eat it, if I do not fetch it;
The danger only I desire: pray, tie me.
_Caratach_--I will, and all my care hang o'er thee! Come, child,
My valiant child!
_Hengo_--Let me down apace, uncle,
And you shall see how like a daw I'll whip it
From all their policies; for 'tis most certain
A Roman train: and you must hold me sure, too;
You'll spoil all else. When I have brought it, uncle,
We'll be as merry--
_Caratach_--Go, i' the name of Heaven, boy!
[_Lets Hengo down by his belt._]
_Hengo_--Quick, quick, uncle! I have it.
[_Judas shoots Hengo with an arrow_.] Oh!
_Caratach_--What ail'st thou?
_Hengo_--Oh, my best uncle, I am slain!
_Caratach [to Judas]_--I see you,
And Heaven direct my hand! destruction
Go with thy coward soul!
[_Kills Judas with a stone, and then draws up Hengo. Exit Macer._]
How dost thou, boy?--
O villain, pocky villain!
_Hengo_--Oh, uncle, uncle,
Oh, how it pricks me!--am I preserved for this?--
Extremely pricks me!
_Caratach_--Coward, rascal coward!
Dogs eat thy flesh!
_Hengo_--Oh, I bleed hard! I faint too; out upon't,
How sick I am!--The lean rogue, uncle!
_Caratach_--Look, boy;
I have laid him sure enough.
_Hengo_--Have you knocked his brains out?
_Caratach_--I warrant thee, for stirring more: cheer up, child.
_Hengo_--Hold my sides hard; stop, stop; oh, wretched fortune,
Must we part thus? Still I grow sicker, uncle.
_Caratach_--Heaven look upon this noble child!
_Hengo_--I once hoped
I should have lived to have met these bloody Romans
At my sword's point, to have revenged my father,
To have beaten 'em,--oh, hold me hard!--but, uncle--
_Caratach_--Thou shalt live still, I hope, boy. Shall I draw it?
_Hengo_--You draw away my soul, then. I would live
A little longer--spare me, Heavens!--but only
To thank you for your tender love: good uncle,
Good noble uncle, weep not.
_Caratach_--O my chicken,
My dear boy, what shall I lose?
_Hengo_--Why, a child,
That must have died however; had this 'scaped me,
Fever or famine--I was born to die, sir.
_Caratach_--But thus unblown, my boy?
_Hengo_--I go the straighter
My journey to the gods. Sure, I shall know you
When you come, uncle.
_Caratach_--Yes, boy.
_Hengo_--And I hope
We shall enjoy together that great blessedness
You told me of.
_Caratach_--Most certain, child.
_Hengo_--I grow cold;
Mine eyes are going.
_Caratach_--Lift 'em up.
_Hengo_--Pray for me;
And, noble uncle, when my bones are ashes,
Think of your little nephew!--Mercy!
_Caratach_--Mercy!
You blessèd angels, take him!
_Hengo_--Kiss me: so.
Farewell, farewell! [_Dies._]
_Caratach_--Farewell, the hopes of Britain!
Thou royal graft, farewell for ever!--Time and Death,
Ye have done your worst. Fortune, now see, now proudly
Pluck off thy veil and view thy triumph; look,
Look what thou hast brought this land to!--O fair flower,
How lovely yet thy ruins show, how sweetly
Even death embraces thee! the peace of Heaven,
The fellowship of all great souls, be with thee!