 | The Tragedy of Locrine |  |
Actus Quartus.
Scena Prima.
Enter Atey as before. Then Omphale Daughter to the King of Lydia, having a Club in her hand, and a Lyous skin on her back, Hercules following with a distaffe. Then let Omphale turn about, and taking off her Pantofle, strike Hercules on the head, then let them depart, Atey remaining, saying;Quem non Argolici mandata severa Tyranni,
Non potuit Juno vincere, vicit amor.
Stout Hercules the mirrour of the world,
Son to Alcmena and great Jupiter,
After so many conquests won in field,
After so many Monsters quell'd by force,
Yielded his valiant heart to Omphale,
A fearfull woman void of manly strength,
She took the Club, and wore the Lyons skin.
He took the Wheele, and maidenly gan spin
So martiall Locrine cheer'd with victory,
Falleth in love with Humber's Concubine,
And so forgetteth peerlesse Guendoline.
His Unckle Corineius stormes at this,
And forceth Locrine for his grace to sue,
Loe here the summe, the processe doth ensue.
Scena Secunda.
Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineius, Assarachus, Thrasimachus, and the Souldiers.Loc.
Thus from the fury of Bellona's broiles,
With sound of Drumme and Trumpets melody,
The Britain King returns triumphantly,
The Scythians slain with great occision,
Doe equallize the grasse in multitude,
And with their blood have stain'd the streaming brooks,
Offering their bodies and their dearest blood
As sacrifice to Albanactus Ghost,
Now cursed Humber hast thou paid thy due,
For thy deceits and crafty treacheries,
For all thy guiles, and damned stratagems,
With losse of life, and everduring shame.
Where are thy Horses trapt with burnisht gold,
Thy trampling Coursers rul'd with foaming bits?
Where are thy soldiers strong and numberlesse,?
Thy valiant Captains, and thy noble Peers?
Even as the Country Clownes with sharpest Scythes,
Doe mow the withered grasse from off the earth,
Or as the Ploughman with his piercing share
Renteth the bowels of the fertile fields,
And rippeth up the roots with Razors keen.
So Locrine with his mighty curtle-axe,
Hath cropped off the heads of all thy Hunnes,
So Locrine's Peers have daunted all thy Peeres,
And drove thine hoast unto confusion,
That thou maist suffer penance for thy fault,
And die for murdring valiant Albanact.
Cori.
And thus, yea thus, shall all the rest be serv'd,
That seek to enter Albion 'gainst our wills.
If the brave Nation of the Troglodites,
If all the Cole-black Æthiopians,
If all the forces of the Amazons,
If all the hoasts of the Barbarian lands,
Should dare to enter this our little world,
Soon should they rue their overbold attempts,
That after us our progeny may say,
There lie the beasts that sought to usurp our Land.
Loc.
I, they are beasts that seek to usurp our Land,
And like to bruitish beasts they shall be serv'd.
For mighty Jove, the supream King of heaven,
That guides the concourse of the Meteors,
And rules the motion of the azure skie,
Fights alwayes for the Britains safety.
But stay, me thinks I hear some shrieking noyse,
That draweth near to our pavillion.
Enter the Souldiers leading in Estrild.
Estrild.
What Prince soe're adorn'd with golden Crown,
Doth sway the Regall Scepter in his hand:
And thinks no chance can ever throw him down,
Or that his state shall everlasting stand,
Let him behold poor Estrild in this plight,
The perfect platform of a troubled wight.
Once was I guarded with mavortiall bands,
Compact with Princes of the noble blood,
Now am I faln into my foemens hands,
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O life the harbour of calamaties,
O death the haven of all miseries,
I could compare my sorrows to thy woe,
Thou wretched queen of wretched Pergamus,
But that thou viewd'st thy enemies overthrow,
Nigh to the rock of high Caphareus,
Thou saw'st their death, and then departed'st thence.
I must abide the victors insolence.
The gods that pittied thy continual grief,
Transform'd thy corps, and with thy corps thy care,
Poor Estrild lives dispairing of relief,
For friends in trouble are but few and rare.
What said I few? I, few or none at all,
For cruel death made havock of them all.
Thrice happy they whose fortune was so good,
To end their lives, and with their lives their woes,
Thrice haplesse I, whom fortune so withstood,
That cruelly she gave me to my foes.
Oh souldiers is there any misery,
To be compar'd to fortunes treacherie.
Loc.
Camber, this same should be the Scythian Queen.
Cam.
So may we judge by her lamenting words.
Loc.
So fair a dame mine eyes did never see,
With flouds of woes she seems o're-whelm'd to be.
Cam.
O Locrine hath she not a cause for to be sad?
Locrine at one side of the stage.
Loc.
If she have cause to weep for Humber's death,
And shed salt tears for her overthrow:
Locrine may well bewaile his proper grief,
Locrine may move his own peculiar woe,
He being conquer'd died a speedy death,
And felt not long his lamentable smart,
I being a conquerour, live a lingring life,
And feel the force of Cupid's sudden stroke.
I gave him cause to die a speedy death,
He left me cause to wish a speedy death.
Oh that sweet face painted with natures dye,
Those roseal cheeks mixt with a snowy white,
That decent neck surpassing ivory,
Those comely breasts which Venus well might spite,
Are like to snares which wylie fowlers wrought,
Wherein my yielding heart is prisoner caught.
The golden tresses of her dainty hair
Which shine like Rubies glittering with the Sun,
Have so entrapt poor Locrine's lovesick heart,
That from the same no way it can be won.
How true is that which oft I heard declar'd,
One dram of joy, must have a pound of care.
Estr.
Hard is their fall, who from a golden Crown
Are cast into a Sea of wretchednesse.
Loc.
Hard is their thrall, who by Cupid's frown
Are wrapt in waves of endlesse carefulnesse.
Estr.
Oh Kingdome object to all miseries.
Loc.
Oh love, the extream'st of all extremities.
Let him go into his chair.
Sold.
My Lord, in ransacking the Scythian Tents,
I found this Lady, and to manifest
That earnest zeal I bear unto your Grace,
I here present her to your Majesty.
Another sold.
He lies, my Lord, I found the Lady first,
And here present her to your Majesty.
1. Sold.
Presumptuous villain, wilt thou take my prize?
2. Sol.
Nay rather thou depriv'st me of my right.
1. Sol.
Resigne thy title (cative) unto me,
Or with my sword I'le pierce thy cowards loins.
2. Sol.
Soft words, good sir, 'tis not enough to speak:
A barking dog doth seldome strangers bite.
Loc.
Unreverent villains, strive you in our sight?
Take them hence Jaylor to the dungeon,
There let them lie and trie their quarrel out.
But thou fair Princesse be no whit dismaid,
But rather joy that Locrine favours thee.
Estr.
How can he favour me that slew my spouse?
Loc.
The chance of war (my love) took him from thee.
Estr.
But Locrine was the causer of his death.
Loc.
He was an enemy to Locrine's state,
And slew my noble brother Albanact.
Estr.
But he was link'd to me in marriage bond,
And would you have me love his slaughterer?
Loc.
Better to live, then not to live at all.
Estr.
Better to die renowned for chastitie,
Then live with shame and endlesse infamie.
What would the common sort report of me,
If I forget my love, and cleave to thee?
Loc.
Kings need not fear the vulgar sentences.
Estr.
But Ladies must regard their honest name.
Loc.
Is it a shame to live in marriage bonds?
Estr.
No, but to be a Strumpet to a King.
Loc.
If thou wilt yield to Locrine's burning love,
Thou shalt be Queen of fair Albania.
Estr.
But Guendoline will undermine my state.
Loc.
Upon mine Honour, thou shalt have no harme.
Est.
Then lo brave Locrine, Estrild yields to thee,
And by the gods, whom thou do'st invocate,
By the dread ghost of thy deceased Sire,
By thy right hand, and by thy burning love,
Take pitty on poor Estrilds wretched thrall.
Cori.
Hath Locrine then forgot his Guendoline,
That thus he courts the Scythians paramour?
What, are the words of Brute so soon forgot?
Are my deserts so quickly out of mind?
Have I bin faithfull to thy Sire now dead,
Have I protected thee from Humber's hands,
And do'st thou quit me with ungratitude?
Is this the guerdon for my grievous wounds,
Is this the honour for my labours past?
Now by my sword, Locrine, I swear to thee,
This injury of thine shall be repaid.
Loc.
Uncle, scorn you your royal soveraigne,
As if we stood for cyphers in the Court?
Upbraid you me with those your benefits?
Why, it was a subjects duty so to do.
What you have done for our deceased Sire,
We know, and all know, you have your reward.
Cori.
Avant proud princox, brav'st thou me withall,
Assure thy self, though thou be Emperour
Thou ne're shalt carry this unpunished.
Cam.
Pardon my brother, noble Corineus,
Pardon this once, and it shall be amended.
Assar.
Cousin, remember Brutus latest words,
How he desired you to cherish them:
Let not this fault so much incense your mind,
Which is not yet passed all remedy.
Cori.
Then Locrine, loe I reconcile my self,
But as thou lov'st thy life, so love thy wife:
But if thou violate those promises,
Bloud and revenge shall light upon thy head.
Come, let us back to stately Troynovant,
Where all these matters shall be setled.
Locrine
to himself.
Millions of devils wait upon thy soul.
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Ten thousand torments rack thy cursed bones.
Let every thing that hath the use of breath,
Be instruments and workers of thy death.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter Humber alone, his hair hanging over his shoulders, his arms all bloudie, and a dart in one hand.Hum.
What Basilisk hath hatched in this place,
Where every thing consumed is to nought?
What fearfull Furie haunts these cursed groves,
Where not a root is left for Humber's meat?
Hath fell Alecto with envenomed blasts,
Breathed forth poison in these tender plains?
Hath triple Cerberus with contagious foam,
Sow'd Aconitum 'mongst these withered hearbs?
Hath dreadfull Fames with her charming rods
Brought barrennesse on every fruitfull tree?
What not a root, no fruit, no beast, no bird,
To nourish Humber in this wildernesse?
What would you more, you fiends of Erebus?
My very intrails burn for want of drink,
My bowels cry, Humber give us some meat,
But wretched Humber can give you no meat,
These foul accursed groves afford no meat:
This fruitless soil, this ground brings forth no meat.
The gods, hard hearted gods, yield me no meat.
Then how can Humber give you any meat?
Enter Strumbo with a pitch-fork, and a Scotch-cap.
St.
How do you, Masters, how do you? how have you
scaped hanging this long time? ifaith I have scapt many
a scouring this year, but I thank God I have past them
all with a good couragio, couragio, and my wife and I
are in great love and charity now, I thank my manhood
and my strength; for I will tell you, Masters, upon a
certain day at night I came home, to say the very truth,
with my stomack full of wine, and ran up into the chamber,
where my wife soberly sate rocking my little babie,
leaning her back against the bed, singing lullaby. Now
when she saw me come with my nose formost, thinking
that I had been drunk, as I was indeed, snatcht up a fagot-stick
in her hand, and came furiously marching towards
me with a big face, as though she would have eaten me
at a bit; thundering out these words unto me. Thou
drunken knave where hast thou been so long? I shall
teach thee how to benight me another time: and so she
began to play knaves trumps. Now although I trembled
fearing she would set her ten commandements in my
face, ran within her, and taking her lustily by the middle,
I carried her valiantly to the bed, and flinging her
upon it, flung my self upon her, and there I delighted
her so with the sport I made, that ever after she would
call me sweet husband, and so banisht brawling for ever:
and to see the good will of the wench, she bought with
her Portion a yard of land, and by that I am now become
one of the richest men in our parish. Well,
Masters, what's a clock? it is now break-fast time, you
shall see what meat I have here for my break-fast.
He sits down and pulls out his victuals.
Hum.
Was ever land so fruitless as this land?
Was ever grove so gracelesse as this grove?
Was ever soil so barren as this soil?
Oh no: the land where hungry Fames dwelt,
May no wise equalize this cursed land;
No, even the climate of the torrid zone
Brings forth more fruit then this accursed grove.
Ne'er came sweet Ceres, ne'er came Venus here;
Triptolemus the god of husbandmen,
Ne'er sow'd his seed in this foul wildernesse.
The hunger-bitten dogs of Acheron,
Chac't from the nine-fold Puriflegiton,
Have set their footsteps in this damned ground.
The iron-hearted Furies arm'd with snakes,
Scatered huge Hydra's over all the plains,
Which have consum'd the grass, the herbs, the trees,
Which have drunk up the flowing water springs.
Strumbo hearing his voice starts up, and puts his meat in his pocket, seeking to hide himself.
Hum.
Thou great commande of the starry sky,
That guid'st the life of every mortal wight,
From the inclosures of the fleeting clouds
Rain down some food, or else I faint and dye:
Pour down some drink, or else I faint and dye.
O Jupiter, hast thou sent Mercury
In clownish shape to minister some food?
Some meat, some meat, some meat.
Strum.
O alas sir, ye are deceived, I am not Mercury,
I am Strumbo.
Hum.
Give me some meat, villain, give me some meat,
Or 'gainst this rock, I'le dash thy cursed brains,
And rend thy bowels with my bloudie hands.
Give me some meat, villain, give me some meat.
Strum.
By the faith of my body, good fellow, I had
rather give an whole oxe, then that thou should'st serve
me in that sort. Dash out my brains? O horrible, terrible.
I think I have a quarry of stones in my pocket.
He makes as though he would give him some, and as he putteth out his hand, enter the Ghost of Albanact, and strikes him on the hand, and so Strumbo runs out, Humber following him.
Exeunt.
Alba. Ghost.
Loe here the gift of fell ambition,
Of usurpation and of treachery.
Loe here the harms that wait upon all those
That do intrude themselves in others lands,
Which are not under their dominion.
Exit.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Locrine alone.Loc.
Seven yeares hath aged Corineus liv'd
To Locrine's grief, and fair Estrilda's woe,
And seven yeares more he hopeth yet to live;
Oh supreme Jove, annihilate this thought.
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Should he enjoy the benefit of life?
Should he contemplate the radiant sun,
That makes my life equall to dreadfull death?
Venus convey this monster fro the earth,
That disobeyeth thus thy sacred hests.
Cupid convey this monster to dark hell,
That disannulls thy mothers sugred lawes.
Mars with thy target all beset with flames,
With murthering blade bereave him of his life,
That hindreth Locrine in his sweetest joyes.
And yet for all his diligent aspect,
His wrathfull eyes piercing like Linces eyes,
Well have I overmatcht his subtiltie.
Nigh Deucolitum by the pleasant Lee,
Where brackish Thamis slides with silver streams,
Making a breach into the grassie downes,
A curious arch of costly marble fraught,
Hath Locrine framed underneath the ground,
The walls whereof, garnisht with diamonds,
With ophirs, rubies, glistering emeralds,
And interlac't with sun-bright carbuncles,
Lightens the room with artificial day,
And from the Lee with water-flowing pipes
The moisture is deriv'd into this arch,
Where I have plac'd fair Estrild secretly;
Thither eftsoons accompanied with my page,
I covertly visit my hearts desire,
Without suspition of the meanest eye,
For love aboundeth still with policie:
And thither still means Locrine to repair,
Till Atropos cut off mine uncle's life.
Exit.
Scena Quinta.
Enter Humber alone, saying:Hum.
O vita misero longa, fœlici brevis!
Eheu malorum fames extremum malum.
Long have I lived in this desart cave,
With eating hawes and miserable roots,
Devouring leaves and beastly excrements.
Caves were my beds, and stones my pillow-beres,
Fear was my sleep, and horrour was my dream;
For still me thought at every boisterous blast,
Now Locrine comes, now Humber thou must dye;
So that for fear and hunger, Humber's mind
Can never rest, but alwayes trembling stands.
O what Danubius now may quench my thirst?
What Euphrates, what light-foot Euripus
May now allay the fury of that heat,
Which raging in my entrails eats me up?
You ghastly devils of the ninefold Styx,
You damned ghosts of joyless Acheron,
You mournfull soules, vext in Abyssus vaults,
You coal-black devils of Avernus pond,
Come with your flesh-hooks, rend my famisht armes,
These armes that have sustain'd their masters life;
Come with your razours rip my bowels up,
With your sharp fire-forks crack my starved bones.
Use me as you will, so Humber may not live.
Accursed gods that rule the starrie poles,
Accursed Jove king of the accursed gods,
Cast down your lightning on poor Humber's head,
That I may leave this deathfull like life of mine:
What hear you not, and shall not Humber dye?
Nay I will dye though all the gods say nay.
And gentle Aby take my troubled corps,
Take it and keep it from all mortal eyes,
That none may say when I have lost my breath,
The very flouds conspir'd 'gainst Humber's death.
Flings himself into the river.
Enter the Ghost of Albanact.
En cædem sequitur, cædes in cæde quiesco.
Humber is dead, joy heavens, leap earth, dance trees;
Now may'st thou reach thy apples Tantalus,
And withem feed thy hunger-bitten limmes:
Now Sysiphus leave the tumbling of thy rock,
And rest thy restless bones upon the same;
Unbind Ixion, cruel Rhadamanth,
And lay proud Humber on the whirling wheel.
Back will I post to hell mouth Tænarus,
And pass Cocytus, to the Elysian fields,
And tell my father Brutus of these newes.
Exeunt.
| The Tragedy of Locrine | |