University of Virginia Library

Scena Quinta.

Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineius, Thrasimachus, Assarachus.
Loc.
Now am I guarded with an hoast of men,
Whose haughty courage is invincible;
Now am I hemm'd with troups of Souldiers,
Such as might force Bellona to retire,
And make her tremble at their puissance;
Now sit I like the mighty god of warre,
When armed with his Coat of Adamant,
Mounted his Chariot drawn with mighty Bulls,
He drove the Argives over Xanthus streames.
Now, cursed Humber, doth thy end draw nigh,
Down goes the glory of his victories,
And all his fame, and all his high renown,
Shall in a moment yield to Locrine's sword:
Thy bragging banners crost with argent streames,
The ornaments of thy pavillions,
Shall all be captivated with this hand,
And thou thy self at Albanactus Tombe
Shalt offered be, in satisfaction
Of all the wrongs thou didst him when he liv'd.
But canst thou tell me, brave Thrasimachus,
How far we are distant from Humbers camp?

Thra.
My Lord, within your foule accursed Grove
That beares the tokens of our overthrow,
This Humber hath intrencht his damned camp.
March on, my Lord, because I long to see
The treacherous Scythians squeltring in their gore.

Locri.
Sweet fortune, favour Locrine with a smile,
That I may venge my noble Brothers death,
And in the midst of stately Troimovant,
I'le build a Temple to thy deitie
Of perfect marble, and of Jacinth stones,
That it shall passe the high Pyramides,
Which with their top surmount the firmament.

Cam.
The arm-strong off-spring of the doubted Knight,
Stout Hercules Alcmenas, mighty Son,
That tam'd the monsters of the three-fold world,
And rid the oppressed from the tyrants yokes,
Did never shew such valiantnesse in fight,
As I will now for noble Albanact.

Cori.
Full fourscore yeares hath Corineius liv'd,
Sometime in warre, sometime in quiet peace,
And yet I feel my self to be as strong
As erst I was in summer of mine age,
Able to tosse this great unweildy Club,
Which hath been painted with my foe-mens brains:
And with this Club I'le break the strong array
Of Humber and his stragling Souldiers,
Or loose my life amongst the thickest presse,
And die with honour in my latest dayes:
Yet ere I die they all shall understand,
What force lies in stout Corineius hand.

Thra.
And if Thrasimachus detract the fight,
Either for weaknesse or for cowardise,
Let him not boast that Brutus was his Eame,
Or that brave Corineius was his Sire.

Loc.
Then courage, Souldiers, first for your safety.
Next for your peace, last for your victory.

Exeunt.
Sound the Alarm. Enter Hubba and Segar at one door, and Corineius at the other.
Cori.
Art thou that Humber, Prince of Fugitives,
That by thy treason slew'st young Albanact?

Hub.
I am his Son that slew young Albanact,
And if thou take not heed proud Phrigian,
I'le send thy soule unto the Stigian lake,
There to complain of Humber's injuries.

Cori.
You triumph, sir, before the victory,
For Corineius is not so soon slain.
But, cursed Scythians, you shall rue the day,
That e're you came into Albania.
So perish they that envy Britains wealth,
So let them die with endlesse infamy,
And he that seeks his Soveraigns overthrow,
Would this my Club might aggravate his woe.

Strikes them both down with his Club.
Enter Humber.
Hum.
Where may I find some desart wildernesse,
Where I may breathe out curses as I would,
And scare the earth with my condemning voyce,
Where every ecchoes repercussion
May help me to bewaile mine overthrow,
And aid me in my sorrowfull laments?
Where may I find some hollow uncoth rock,
Where I may damn, condemn, and ban my fill?
The heavens, the hell, the earth, the aire, the fire,
And utter curses to the concave skie,
Which may infect the aiery regions,
And light upon the Britain Locrine's head.
You ugly sprites that in Cocitus mourn,
And gnash your teeth with dolorous laments,
You fearfull dogs that in black Læthe howle,
And scare the Ghosts with your wide open throats,
You ugly Ghosts that flying from these dogs,
Do plunge your selves in Puryflegiton,
Come all of you, and with your shrieking notes
Accompany the Britains conquering hoast.
Come fierce Erinnis, horrible with Snakes,
Come ugly Furies, armed with your whips,
You threefold judges of black Tartarus,
And all the army of you hellish fiends,
With new found torments rack proud Locrine's bones.
O gods and starres, damn'd be the gods and starres,
That did not drown me in fair Thetis plains.
Curst be the sea that with outragious waves,
With surging billowes did not rive my ships
Against the rocks of high Cerannia,
Or swallowed me into her watry gulf.
Would God he had arriv'd upon the shore
Where Poliphemus and the Cyclops dwell,
Or where the bloody Anthropomphagie
With greedy jawes devoures the wandring wights,
Enter the Ghost of Albanact.
But why comes Albanact's bloody Ghost,
To bring a corsive to our miseries!
Is't not enough to suffer shamefull flight,
But we must be tormented now with Ghosts?
With apparitions fearfull to behold?

Ghost.
Revenge, revenge for blood.

Hum.
So nought will satisfie your wandring Ghost,
But dire revenge, nothing but Humber's fall,
Because he conquered you in Albany.
Now by my soule, Humber would be condemn'd
To Tantals hunger, or Ixions Wheele,
Or to the vulture of Promotheus,
Rather then that this murther were undone.
When as I I die I'le drag thy cursed Ghost
Through all the Rivers of foule Erebus,
Through burning sulphur of the Limbo-lake,
To allay the burning fury of that heat,
That rageth in mine everlasting soule.

Exeunt.
Alba. Ghost.
Vindicta, vindicta.