There be many Caesars Ere such another Julius

Cloten
There be many Caesars
Ere such another Julius. Britain’s a world
By itself, and we will nothing pay
For wearing our own noses.

A kind of conquest
Caesar made here, but made not here his brag
Of “came, and saw, and overcame.”

Queen
That opportunity
Which then they had to take from ’s, to resume
We have again.—Remember, sir, my liege,
The Kings your ancestors, together with
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
As Neptune’s park, ribbed and palèd in
With rocks unscalable and roaring waters,
With sands that will not bear your enemies’ boats
But suck them up to th’ topmast. A kind of conquest
Caesar made here, but made not here his brag
Of “came, and saw, and overcame.” With shame—
The first that ever touched him—he was carried
From off our coast, twice beaten; and his shipping,
Poor ignorant baubles, on our terrible seas
Like eggshells moved upon their surges, cracked
As easily ’gainst our rocks. For joy whereof
The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point—
O, giglet Fortune!—to master Caesar’s sword,
Made Lud’s Town with rejoicing fires bright
And Britons strut with courage.