University of Virginia Library

Actus Tertius.

Scena prima.

Enter Ate as before. The dumb show. A Crocadile sitting on a rivers bank, and a little Snake stinging it. Then let both of them fall into the water.
Ate.
Scelera in authorem's adunt.
High on a bank by Nilus boystrous streams,
Fearfully sat th'Egyptian Crocodile,
Dreadfully grinding in her sharp long teeth,
The broken bowels of a silly fish,
His back was arm'd against the dint of spear,
With shields of brasse that shin'd like burnisht gold,
And as he stretched forth his cruel paws,
A subtil Adder creeping closely near,
Thrusting his forked sting into his claws,
Privily shead his poison through his bones,
Which made him swell that there his bowels burst,
That did so much in his own greatnesse trust.
So Humber having conquered Albanact,
Doth yield his glory unto Locrine's sword.
Mark what ensues, and you may easily see,
That all our life is but a Tragedy.

Exit.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Locrine, Guendoline, Corineus, Assaracus, Thrasimachus, Camber.
Locrine.
And is this true, is Albanactus slain?
Hath cursed Humber with his stragling host,
With that his army made of mungrel currs,
Brought our redoubted brother to his end?
O that I had the Thracian Orpheus harp,
For to awake out of the infernal shade
Those ugly Devils of black Erebus,
That might torment the damned traitor's soul:
O that I had Amphion's instrument,
To quicken with his vital notes and tunes
The flintie joynts of every stonie rock,
By which the Scythians might be punished;
For, by the lightning of almighty Jove,
The Hunne shall die had he ten thousand lives:
And would to God he had ten thousand lives,
That I might with the arm-strong Hercules
Crop off so vile an Hydra's hissing heads.
But say me, Cousin, for I long to hear
How Albanact came by untimely death?

Thrasi.
After the traiterous host of Scythians
Entred the field with martial equipage,
Young Albanact impatient of delay,
Led forth his army 'gainst the stragling mates,
Whose multitude did daunt our souldiers minds,
Yet nothing could dismay the forward Prince;
But with a courage most heroical,
Like to a lion 'mongst a stock of lambs,
Made havock of the faint-heart fugitives,
Hewing a passage through them with his sword;
Yea we had almost given them the repulse,
When suddenly from out the silent wood
Hubba with twenty thousand souldiers,
Cowardly came upon our weakned backs,
And murthered all with fatal massacre;
Amongst the which old Debon, martial Knight,
With many wounds was brought unto the death:
And Albanact opprest with multitude,
Whilst valiantly he feld his enemies,
Yielded his life and honour to the dust,
He being dead, the souldiers fled amain,
And I alone escaped them by flight,
To bring you tidings of these accidents.

Locr.
Not aged Priam King of stately Troy,
Grand Emperour of barbarous Asia,
When he beheld his noble minded sonnes
Slain troiterously by all the Mirmidons,
Lamented more then I for Albanact.

Guen.
Not Hecuba the Queen of Ilium,
When she beheld the town of Pergamus,
Her pallace burnt, with all-devouring flames,
Her fifty sonnes and daughters fresh of hue,
Murthred by the wicked Pyrrhus bloudy sword,
Shed such sad tears as I for Albanact.

Cam.
The grief of Niobe fair Athens Queen,
For her seven sonnes magnanimous in field,
For her seven daughters fairer then the fairest,
Is not to be compar'd with my laments.

Cor.
In vain you sorrow for the slaughtred Prince,
In vain you sorrow for his overthrow;
He loves not most that doth lament the most,
But he that seeks to venge the injury.
Think you to quell the enemies warlike train,
With childish sobs and womanish laments?
Unsheath your swords, unsheath your conquering sword?
And seek revenge, the comfort for this sore:
In Cornwall where I hold my regiment,
Even just ten thousand valiant men at armes
Hath Corineius ready at command:
All these and more, if need shall more require,
Hath Corineius ready at command.

Cam.
And in the fields of martial Cambria,
Close by the boystrous Iscan's silver streams,
Where lightfoot Fairies skip from bank to bank,
Full twenty thousand brave couragious Knights
Well exercis'd in feats of Chivalrie,
In manly manner most invincible,
Young Camber hath with gold and victual;
All these and more, if need shall more require,
I offer up to venge my brothers death.

Loc.
Thanks loving Uncle, and good Brother too,
For this revenge; for this sweet word Revenge
Must ease and cease my wrongfull injuries;
And by the sword of bloudie Mars I swear,
Ne'er shall sweet quiet enter this my front,
'Till I be venged on his traiterous head
That slew my noble brother Albanact.
Sound drums and trumpets, muster up the camp,
For we will straight march to Albania.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Humber, Estrild, Hubba, Trussier, & the souldiers.
Hum.
Thus are we come victorious Conquerors
Unto the flowing currents silver streams,
Which, in memorial of our victory,
Shall be agnominated by our name,
And talked of by our posterity:
For sure I hope before the golden Sun
Posteth his horses to fair Thetis plains,
To see the waters turned into bloud,
And change his blewish hue to ruefull red,
By reason of the fatal massacre,
Which shall be made upon the virent plains.
Enter the Ghost of Albanact.
See how the Traitor doth presage his harm,
See how he glories at his own decay,
See how he triumphs at his proper loss.
O fortune vild, unstable, fickle, frail!

Hum.
Me thinks I see both armies in the field,
The broken lances climb the crystal skies,
Some headless lie, some breathless on the ground,
And every place is strew'd with carcasses,
Behold the grass hath lost his pleasant green,
The sweetest sight that ever might be seen.

Ghost.
I, traiterous Humber, thou shalt find it so,
Yea to thy cost thou shalt the same behold,
With anguish, sorrow, and with sad laments;
The grassie plains, that now do please thine eyes,
Shall e're the night be coloured all with bloud;
The shadie groves that now inclose thy camp,
And yield sweet savour to thy damned corps,
Shall ere the night be figured all with bloud;
The profound stream that passeth by thy tents,
And with his moisture serveth all thy camp,
Shall ere the night converted be to bloud,
Yea with the bloud of those thy stragling boyes:
For now revenge shall ease my lingring grief,
And now revenge shall glut my longing soul.

Hub.
Let come what will, I mean to bear it out,
And either live with glorious victorie,
Or die with fame renown'd for chivalrie:
He is not worthy of the honey-comb,
That shuns the hives because the bees have stings;
That likes me best that is not got with ease,
Which thousand dangers do accompany;
For nothing can dismay our Regal mind;
Which aims at nothing but a golden Crown,
The only upshot of mine enterprises.
Were they inchanted in grim Pluto's Court,
And kept for treasure 'mongst his hellish crew,
I would either quell the triple Cerberus
And all the armie of his hatefull hags,
Or roll the stone with wretched Sysiphus.

Hum.
Right martial be thy thoughts, my noble son,
And all thy words savour of Chivalrie,
But, warlike Segar, what strange accidents
Makes you to leave the warding of the Camp?

Segar.
To armes, my Lord, to honourable armes;
Take helm and targe in hand, the Britains come
With greater multitude then erst the Greeks
Brought to the ports of Phrygian Tenedos.

Hum.
But what saith Segar to these accidents?
What counsel gives he in extremities?

Seg.
Why this, my Lord, experience teacheth us,
That Resolution is a sole help at need.
And this, my Lord, our honour teacheth us,
That we be bold in every enterprise;
Then since there is no way but fight or die,
Be resolute, my Lord, for victory.

Hum.
And resolute, Segar, I mean to be,
Perhaps some blisfull star will favour us,
And comfort bring to our perplexed state:
Come let us in and fortifie our camp,
So to withstand their strong invasion.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Strumbo, Trumpart, Oliver, and his son William following them.
Strum.

Nay neighbour Oliver, if you be so whot,
come prepare your self, you shall find two as stout fellows
of us, as any in all the North.

Oliv.

No by my dorth neighbour Strumbo, Ich zee
dat you are a man of small zideration, dat will zeek to
injure your old vreends, one of your vamiliar guests, and
derefore zeeing your pinion is to deal withouten reazon,
Ich and my zonne William will take dat course, dat shall
be fardest vrom reason; how zay you, will you have my
Daughter or no?

Strum.

A very hard question neighbour, but I will
solve it as I may: what reason have you to demand it
of me?

Will.

Marry sir, what reason had you when my sister
was in the barn to tumble her upon the hay, and to fish
her Belly.

Strum.

Mass thou say'st true; well, but would you
have me marry her therefore? No, I scorn her, and you,
and you. I, I scorn you all.

Oliv.

You will not have her then?

Strum.

No, as I am a true Gentleman.

Will.

Then will we school you, ere you and we part
hence.

Enter Margerie, and snatch the staff out of her brothers hand as he is fighting.
Strum.

I, you come in pudding time, or else I had
drest them.

Mar.

You master sawce-box, lobcock, cocks-comb,
you slopsawce, lickfingers, will you not hear?

Strum.

Who speak you to, me?

Mar.

I sir, to you, John lackhonestie, littlewit, is it
you that will have none of me?

Strum.

No by my troth, mistress nicebice, how fine
you can nick-name me; I think you were brought up in
the University of Bridewell, you have your Rhetorick so
ready at your tongues end, as if you were never well
warned when you were young.

Mar.

Why then goodman cods-head, if you will have
none of me, farewell.

Strum.

If you be so plain, mistress driggle-draggle,
fare you well.

Mar.

Nay, master Strumbo, ere you go from hence we
must have more words, you will have none of me?

They both fight.
Strum.

Oh my head, my head, leave, leave, leave,
I will, I will, I will.

Mar.

Upon that condition I let thee alone.

Oliv.

How now master Strumbo, hath my daughter
taught you a new lesson?

Strum.

I but hear you, goodman Oliver? it will not
be for my ease to have my head broken every day, therefore
remedy this, and we shall agree.

Oli.

Well, Zon, well, for you are my Zon now, all
shall be remedied, Daughter be friends with him.

Shake hands.
Strum.

You are a sweet Nut, the Devil crack you.
Masters, I think it be my luck, my first wife was a loving
quiet wench, but this I think would weary the Devil. I
would she might be burnt as my other Wife was; if not,
I must run to the Halter for help. O Codpiece, thou hast
undone thy Master, this it is to be medling with warm
plackets.

Exeunt.

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.