THE Lamentable Tragedy of Locrine, the eldest son of King Brutus, discoursing the wars of the Britain's, and Hunnes, with their discomfiture: The Britain's victory with their Accidents, and the death of Albanact. No less pleasant than profitable.  
Newly set forth, overseen and corrected, By W. S.  
LONDON Printed by Thomas Creed. 1595.   

The lamentable Tragedy of Locrine, the eldest son of King Brutus, discoursing the wars of the Britain's and Hunnes, with their discomfiture, the Britain's victory with their accidents, and the death of Albanact.  
The first Act.  

Scene 1.  Enter Atey with thunder and lightning all in black, with a burning torch in one hand, and a bloody sword in the other hand, and presently let there come forth a Lion running after a Bear or any other beast, then come forth an Archer who must kill the Lion in a dumb show, and then depart. Remain Atey. Atey. In paenam sectatur & umbra. 
A Mighty Lion ruler of the woods,  
Of wondrous strength and great proportion,  
With hideous noise scarring the trembling trees,  
With yelling clamours shaking all the earth,  
Traversed the groves, and chaste the wandering beasts.  
Long did he range amid the shady trees,  
And drove the silly beasts before his face,  
When suddenly from out a thorny bush,  
A dreadful Archer with his bow ybent,  
Wounded the Lion with a dismal shaft,  
So he him stroke that it drew forth the blood,  
And filled his furious heart with fretting ire,  
But all in vain he threateneth teeth and paws,  
And sparkleth fire from forth his flaming eyes,  
For the sharp shaft gave him a mortal wound,  
So valiant Brute the terror of the world,  
Whose only looks did scar his enemies,  
The Archer death brought to his latest end.  
Oh what may long abide above this ground,  
In state of bliss and healthful happiness.  Exit.  

The first Act. Scene. 2.  Enter Brutus carried in a chair, Locrine, Camber, Albanact, Corineius, Guendelin, Assaracus, Debon, Thrasimachus. Brutus. 
Most loyal Lords and faithful followers  
That have with me unworthy General,  
Passed the greedy gulf of Ocean,  
Leaving the confines of fair italy,  
Behold your Brutus draweth nigh his end,  
And I must leave you though against my will,  
My sinews shrunk, my numbed senses fail,  
A chilling cold possesseth all my bones,  
Black ugly death with visage pale and wan,  
Presents himself before my dazzled eyes,  
And with his dart prepared is to strike,  
These arms my Lords, these never daunted arms,  
That oft have quelled the courage of my foes,  
And eke dismayed my neighbour's arrogancy,  
Now yield to death, o'erlaid with crooked age,  
Devoid of strength and of their proper force,  
Even as the lusty cedar worn with years,  
That far abroad her dainty odour throws,  
'mongst all the daughters of proud Lebanon,  
This heart my Lords, this near appalled heart,  
That was a terror to the bordering lands,  
A doleful scourge unto my neighbour Kings,  
Now by the weapons of unpartial death,  
Is clove asunder and bereft of life,  
As when the sacred oak with thunderbolts,  
Sent from the fiery circuit of the heavens,  
Sliding along the airs celestial vaults,  
Is rent and cloven to the very roots.  
In vain therefore I strangle with this foe,  
Then welcome death, since God will have it so.  Assar. 
Alas my Lord, we sorrow at your case,  
And grieve to see your person vexed thus,  
But whatsoe'er the fates determined have,  
It lieth not in us to disannul,  
And he that would annihilate his mind,  
Soaring with Icarus too near the Sun,  
May catch a fall with young Bellerophon,  
For when the fatal sisters have decreed  
To separate us from this earthly mould,  
No mortal force can countermand their minds:  
Then worthy Lord since there's no way but one,  
Cease your laments, and leave your grievous moan.  Corin. 
Your highness knows how many victories  
How many trophies I erected have,  
Triumphantly in every place we came  
The Grecian Monarch warlike Pandrassus,  
And all the crew of the Molossians,  
Goffarius the arm strong King of Gaules,  
And all the borders of great Aquitane,  
Have felt the force of our victorious arms,  
And to their cost beheld our chivalry,  
Where ere Ancora handmaid of the Sun,  
Where ere the Sun-bright guardian of the day,  
Where ere the joyful day with cheerful light,  
Where ere the light illuminates the word,  
The Trojans glory flies with golden wings,  
Wings that do soar beyond fell envious flight,  
The fame of Brutus and his followers  
Pierceth the skies, and with the skies the throne  
Of mighty jove Commander of the world,  
Then worthy Brutus, leave these sad laments,  
Comfort yourself with this your great renown,  
And fear not death though he seem terrible.  Brutus. 
Nay Corinus you mistake my mind  
In construing wrong the cause of my complaints,  
I feared to yield myself to fatal death,  
Cod knows it was the least of all my thought,  
A greater care torments my very bones,  
And makes me tremble at the thought of it,  
And in you Lordings doth the substance lie.  Thrasi. 
Most noble Lord, if aught your loyal peers  
Accomplish may, to ease your lingering grief,  
I in the name of all protest to you,  
That we will boldly enterprise the same,  
Were it to enter to black Tartarus,  
Where triple Cerberus with his venomous throat,  
Scarreth the ghosts with high resounding noise,  
We'll either rent the bowels of the earth,  
Searching the entrails of the brutish earth,  
Or with his Ixion's overdaring soon,  
Be bound in chains of ever during steel.  Bru. 
Then hearken to your sovereigns latest words,  
In which I will unto you all unfold,  
Our royal mind and resolute intent,  
When golden Hebe daughter to great jove,  
Covered my manly cheeks with youthful down,  
Th'unhappy slaughter of my luckless sire,  
Drove me and old Assaracus mine eme,  
As exiles from the bounds of Italy,  
So that perforce we were constrained to fly  
To Grecians Monarch noble Pandrassus,  
There I alone did undertake your cause,  
There I restored your antic liberty,  
Though Grecia frowned, and all Mollossia stormed,  
Though brave Antigonus with martial band,  
In pitched field encountered me and mine,  
Though Pandrassus and his contributories,  
With all the rout of their confederates,  
Sought to deface our glorious memory,  
And wipe the name of Trojans from the earth,  
Him did I captivate with this mine arm,  
And by compulsion forced him to agree  
To certain articles which there we did propound,  
From Graecia through the boisterous Hellespont,  
We came unto the fields of Lestrigon,  
Whereas our brother Corineius was,  
Which when we passed the Sicilian gulf,  
And so trasnfretting the Illician sea,  
Arrived on the coasts of Aquitane,  
Where with an army of his barbarous Gaules  
Goffarius and his brother Gathelus  
Encountering with our host, sustained the foil,  
And for your sakes my Turnus there I lost,  
Turnus that slew six hundredth men at arms  
All in an hour, with his sharp battle-axe,  
From thence upon the strons of Albion  
To Corus' haven happily we came,  
And quelled the giants, comen of Albion's race,  
With Gogmagog son to Samotheus,  
The cursed Captain of that damned crew,  
And in that I'll at length I placed you.  
Now let me see if my laborious toils,  
If all my care, if all my grievous wounds,  
If all my diligence were well employed.  Corin. 
When first I followed thee & thine (brave king)  
I hazarded my life and dearest blood,  
To purchase favour at your princely hands,  
And for the same in dangerous attempts  
In sundry conflicts and in divers broils,  
I showed the courage of my manly mind,  
For this I combated with Gathelus,  
The brother to Goffarius of Gaul,  
For this I fought with furious Gogmagog,  
A savage captain of a savage crew,  
And for these deeds brave Cornwall I received,  
A grateful gift given by a gracious King,  
And for this gift, this life and dearest blood,  
Will Corineus spend for Brutus' good.  Deb. 
And what my friend brave prince hath vowed to you,  
The same will Debon do unto his end.  Bru. 
Then loyal peers since you are all agreed,  
And resolute to follow Brutus' hosts,  
Favour my sons, favour these orphan's Lords,  
And shield them from the dangers of their foes,  
Locrine the column of my family,  
And only pillar of my weakened age.  
Locrine draw near, draw near unto thy sire,  
And take thy latest blessings at his hands,  
And for thou art the eldest of my sons,  
Be thou a captain to thy brethren,  
And imitate thy aged father's steps,  
Which will conduct thee to true honours gate,  
For if thou follow sacred virtues lore,  
Thou shalt be crowned with a laurel branch,  
And wear a wreath of sempiternal fame,  
Sorted amongst the glorious happy ones.  Locrin. 
If Locrine do not follow your advise,  
And bear himself in all things like a prince  
That seeks to amplify the great renown  
Left unto him for an inheritage  
By those that were his ancestors,  
Let me be flung into the Ocean,  
And swallowed in the bowels of the earth.  
Or let the ruddy lightning of great jove,  
Descend upon this my devolted head.  Brutus taking Guendoline by the hand. 
But for I see you all to be in doubt,  
who shall be matched with our royal son,  
Locrine receive this present at my hand,  
A gift more rich than are the wealthy mines  
Found in the bowels of America,  
Thou shalt be spoused to fair Guendoline,  
Love her, and take her, for she is thine own,  
If so thy uncle and herself do please.  Corin. 
And herein how your highness honours me  
It cannot be in my speech expressed,  
For careful parents glory not so much  
At their honour and promotion,  
As for to see the issue of their blood  
Seated in honour and prosperity.  Guend. 
And far be it from my maidens thoughts  
To contradict her aged father's will,  
Therefore since he to whom I must obey  
Hath given me now unto your royal self,  
I will not stand aloof from off the lure,  
Like crafty dames that most of all deny  
That, which they most desire to possess.  Brutus turning to Locrine. Locrine kneeling. 
Then now my soon thy part is on the stage,  
For thou must bear the person of a King.  Puts the Crown on his head. 
Locrine stand up, and wear the regal Crown,  
And think upon the state of Majesty,  
That thou with honour well mayst wear the crown,  
And if thou tenderest these my latest words,  
As thou requir'st my soul to be at rest,  
As thou desirest thine own security,  
Cherish and love thy new betrothed wife.  Locrin. 
No longer let me well enjoy the crown,  
Than I do peerless Guendoline.  Brut. 
Camber.  Cam. 
My Lord.  Brut. 
The glory of mine age.  
And darling of thy mother Junoger,  
Take thou the South for thy dominion,  
From thee there shall proceed a royal race,  
That shall maintain the honour of this land,  
That sway the regal sceptre with their hands.  Turning to Albanact. 
And Albanact thy father's only joy,  
youngst in years, but not the youngst in mind,  
A perfect pattern of all chivalry,  
Take thou the North for thy dominion,  
A country full of hills and ragged rocks,  
Replenished with fierce untamed beasts,  
As correspondent to thy martial thoughts,  
Live long my sons with endless happiness,  
And bear firm concordance amongst yourselves,  
Obey the counsels of these father's grave,  
That you may better bear out violence,  
But suddenly through weakness of my age,  
And the defect of youthful puissance,  
My malady increaseth more and more,  
And cruel death hasteneth his quickened pace,  
To dispossess me of my earthly shape,  
Mine eyes wax dim, overcast with clouds of age,  
The pangs of death compass my crazed bones,  
Thus to you all my blessings I bequeath,  
And with my blessings, this my fleeting soul.  
My glass is run, and all my miseries  
Do end with life: death closeth up mine eyes,  
My soul is haste flies to the Elysian fields.  He dieth. Loc. 
Accursed stars, dammed and accursed stars,  
To abbreviate my noble father's life,  
hard-hearted gods, and too envious fates,  
Thus to cut off my father's fatal thread,  
Brutus that was a glory to us all,  
Brutus that was a terror to his foes,  
Alas too soon by Demagorgon's knife,  
The martial Brutus is bereft of life.  
No sad complaints may move just Lacus.  Corin. 
No dreadful threats can fear judge Rhodomanth,  
Wert thou as strong as mighty Hercules,  
That tamed the hugy monsters of the world,  
play'dst thou as sweet, on the sweet sounding lute,  
As did the spouse of fair Euridies,  
That did enchant the waters with his noise,  
And made stones, birds, and beasts, to lead a dance,  
Constrained the hilly trees to follow him,  
Thou couldst not move the judge of Crebus,  
Nor move compassion in grim Pluto's heart,  
For fatal Mors expecteth all the world,  
And every man must tread the way of death,  
Brave Tantalus the valiant Pelops sire,  
Guest to the gods, suffered untimely death,  
And old fleithonus' husband to the morn,  
And eke grim Minos whom just jupiter  
Deigned to admit unto his sacrifice,  
The thundering trumpets of blood-thirsty Mars.  
The fearful rage of fell Tisiphone.  
The boisterous waves of humid Ocean,  
Are instruments and tools of dismal death.  
Then noble cousin cease to mourn his chance,  
Whose age & years were signs that he should die.  
It resteth now that we inter his bones,  
That was a terror to his enemies.  
Take up the corpse, and princes hold him dead,  
Who while he lived, upheld the Trojan state.  
Sound drums and trumpets, march to Troynovant,  
There to provide our chieftains funeral.   

The first Act. Scene 3.  Enter Strumbo above in a gown, with ink and paper in his hand, saying; Strum. 
Either the four elements, the seven planets and all the particular stars of the pole Antarctic, are adversative against me, or else I was begotten and borne in the wane of the Moon, when every thing is saith Lactantius in his fourth book of Consultations doth say, goeth assward. I masters I, you may laugh, but I must weep; you may joy, but I must sorrow; shedding salt tears from the watery fountains of my most dainty fair eyes, along my comely and smooth cheeks, in as great plenty as the water runneth from the bucking-tubs, or red wine out of the hog's heads: for trust me gentlemen and my very good friends, and so forth: the little god, nay the desperate god Cuprit, with one of his vengible birdbolts, hath shot me unto the heel: so not only, but also, oh fine phrase, I burn, I burn, and I burn a, in love, in love, and in love a, ah Strumbo what has thou seen, not Dina with the Ass Tom? Yea with these eyes thou hast seen her, and therefore pull them out: for they will work thy bale. Ah Strumbo hast thou heard, not the voice of the Nightingale, but a voice sweeter than hers, yea with these ears hast thou heard them, and therefore cut them off, for they have caused they sorrow. Nay Strumbo kill thyself, drown thyself, hang thyself, starve thyself. Oh but then I shall leave my sweet heart. Oh my heart, Now pate for thy master, I will dite an aliquant love-pistol to her, and then she hearing the grand verbosity of my scripture, will love me presently. Let him write a little and then read .My pen is nought, gentlemen lend me a knife, I think the more haste the worst speed.  Then write again, and after read. 
So it is mistress dorothy, and the sole essence of my soul, that the little sparkles of affection kindled in me towards your sweet self, hath now increased to a great flame, and will ere it be long consume my poor heart, except you with the pleasant water of your secret fountain, quench the furious heat of the same. Alas I am a gentleman of good fame, and name, majestical, in 'parel comely, in gate portly. Let not therefore your gentle heart be so hard as to despise a proper tall young man of a handsome life, and by despising him, not only, but also to kill him. Thus expecting time and tide, I bid you farewell Your servant, signor Strumbo.  
Oh wit, Oh pate, O memory, O hand, O ink, O paper. Well now I will send it away. Trompart, Trompart, what a villain is this? Why sirrah, come when your master calls you Trompart.  Trompart entering saith; 
Anon sir.  Strumbo. 
Thou knowest my pretty boy what a good master I have been to thee ever since I took thee into my service.  Trom. 
ay sir.  Strum. 
And how I have cherished thee always, as if you had been the fruit of my loins, flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone?  Trom. 
ay sir.  Strum. 
Then show thyself herein a trusty servant, and carry this letter to mistress dorothy, and tell her. Speaking in his ear.  Exit Trompart. Strum. 
Nay masters you shall see a marriage by and by. But here she comes. Now must I frame my amorous passions.  Enter dorothy and Trompart. Doro. 
signor Strumbo, well met, I received your letters by your man here, who told me a pitiful story of your anguish, and so understanding your passions were so great, I came hither speedily.  Strum. 
Oh my sweet and pigsney, the fecundity of my ingeny is not so great, that may declare unto you the sorrowful sobs and broken sleeps, that I suffered for your sake; and therefore I desire you to receive me into your familiarity.  

For your love doth lie,  
As near and as nigh:  
Unto my heart within,  
As mine eye to my nose,  
My leg unto my hose,  
And my flesh unto my skin.   Dor. 
Truly M. Strumbo, you speak too learnedly for me to understand the drift of your mind, and therefore tell your tale in plain terms, and leave off your dark riddles.  Strum. 
Alas mistress dorothy this is my luck, that when I most would, I cannot be understood: so that my great learning is an inconvenience unto me. But to speak in plain terms, I love you mistress dorothy, if you like to accept me into your familiarity.  Dor. 
If this be all I am content.  Turning to the people. Strum. 
sayst thou so sweet wench, let me lick thy toes. Farewell mistress. If any of you be in love, provide ye a capcase full of new coined words, and then shall you soon have the succado de labres, and something else. Exeunt.   

The first Act. Scene 4.  Enter Locrine, Guendoline, Camber, Albanact, Corineus, Assaracus, Debon, Thrasimachus. Locrine. 
Uncle and princes of brave Britany,  
Since that our noble father is entombed,  
As best beseemed so brave a prince as he,  
If so you please, this day my love and I,  
Within the temple of Concordia,  
Will solemnize our royal marriage.  Thra. 
Right noble Lord, your subjects every one,  
Must needs obey your highness at command,  
Especially in such a cause as this,  
That much concerns your highness great content.  Locr. 
Then frolic lordings to fair Concord's walls,  
Where we will pass the day in knightly sports,  
The night in dancing and in figured masks,  
And offer to God Risus all our sports.  Exeunt.   

The 2. Act.  

Scene 1.  Enter Atey as before, after a little lightning and thundering, let there come forth this show. Perseus and Andromeda, hand in hand, and Cepheus also with swords and targets. Then let there come out of another door, Phineus, all black in armour, with Aethiopians after him, driving in Perseus, and having taken away Andromeda, let them depart. Ate remaining, saying; Ate. 
Regit omnia numen.  
When Perseus married fair Andromeda,  
The only daughter of king Cepheus,  
He thought he had established well his Crown,  
And that his kingdom should for aye endure.  
But lo proud Phineus with a band of men,  
Contrived of sunburnt Aethiopians:  
By force of arms the bride he took from him,  
And turned their joy into a flood of tears.  
So fares it with young Locrine and his love,  
He thinks this marriage tendeth to his weal,  
But this foul day, this foul accursed day,  
Is the beginning of his miseries.  
Behold where Humber and his Scythians  
Approacheth nigh with all his warlike train,  
I need not I, the sequel shall declare,  
What tragic chances fall out in this war.   

The 2. Scene.  Enter Humber, Hubba, Estrild, Segar, and their soldiers. Hum. 
At length the snail doth climb the highest tops,  
Ascending up the stately castle walls,  
At length the water with continual drops,  
Doth penetrate the hardest marble stone,  
At length we are arrived in Albion,  
Nor could the barbarous Dacian sovereign,  
Nor yet the ruler of brave Belgia  
Stay us from cutting over to this isle,  
Whereas I hear a troup of Phrygians  
Under the conduct of Postumia's son,  
Have pitched up lordly pavilions,  
And hope to prosper in this lovely I'll:  
But I will frustrate all their foolish hope,  
And teach them that the Scythian Emperor  
Leads fortune tied in a chain of gold,  
Constraining her to yield unto his will,  
And grace him with their regal diadem:  
Which I will have maugre their treble hosts,  
And all the power their petty kings can make.  Hubba. 
If she that rules fair Rhamnis golden gate  
Grant us the honour of the victory,  
As hitherto she always favoured us,  
Right noble father, we will rule the land,  
Enthronized in seats of topaz stones,  
That Locrine and his brethren all may know,  
None must be king but Humber and his son.  Hum. 
Courage my son, fortune shall favour us,  
And yield to us the coronet of bay,  
That decketh none but noble conquerors:  
But what saith Estrild to these regions?  
How liketh she the temperature thereof,  
Are they not pleasant in her gracious eyes?  Astr. 
The plains my Lord garnished with Flora's wealth  
And overspread with party coloured flowers,  
Do yield sweet contentation to my mind,  
The airy hills enclosed with shady groves,  
The groves replenished with sweet chirping birds,  
The birds resounding heavenly melody,  
Are equal to the groves of Thessaly,  
Where Phoebus with the learned Ladies nine,  
Delight themselves with music harmony,  
And from the moisture of the mountain tops,  
The silent springs dance down with murmuring streams,  
And water all the ground with crystal waves,  
The gentle blasts of Eurus modest wind,  
Moving the pittering leaves of Siluanes woods,  
Do equal it with Tempe's paradise,  
And thus comforted all to one effect,  
Do make me think these are the happy Isles,  
Most fortunate, if Humber may them win.  Hubba. 
Madam, where resolution leads the way,  
And courage follows with emboldened pace,  
Fortune can never use her tyranny,  
For valiantness is like unto a rock  
That standeth in the waves of Ocean,  
Which though the billows beat on every side,  
And Borras fell with his tempestuous storms,  
Bloweth upon it with a hideous clamour,  
Yet it remaineth still unmovable.  Hum. 
Kingly resolved thou glory of thy sire,  
But worthy Segar what uncouth novelties  
Bringst thou unto our royal majesty?  Seg. 
My Lord, the youngest of all Brutus' sons,  
Stout Albanact, with millions of men,  
Approacheth nigh, and meaneth ere the morn,  
To try your force by dint of fatal sword.  Hum. 
Tut let him come with millions of hosts,  
He shall find entertainment good enough,  
Yea fit for those that are our enemies:  
For we'll receive them at the lances points,  
And massacre their bodies with our blades:  
Yea though they were in number infinite,  
More than the mighty Babylonian queen,  
Semiramis the ruler of the West,  
Brought 'gainst the Emperor of the Scythians,  
Yet would we not start back one foot from them:  
That they might know we are invincible.  Hub. 
Now by great jove the supreme king of heaven,  
And the immortal gods that live therein,  
whenas the morning shows his cheerful face,  
And Lucifer mounted upon his steed,  
Brings in the chariot of the golden sun,  
I'll meet young Albanact in the open field,  
And crack my lance upon his burganet,  
To try the valour of his boyish strength:  
There will I show such ruthful spectacles  
And cause so great effusion of blood,  
That all his boys shall wonder at my strength:  
As when the warlike queen of Amazon,  
Penthesilea armed with her lance,  
Girt with a corselet of bright shining steel,  
cooped up the faintheart Grecians in the camp.  Hum. 
Spoke like a warlike knight my noble son,  
Nay like a prince that seeks his father's joy,  
Therefore tomorrow ere fair Titan shine,  
And bashful Eos messenger of light:  
Expels the liquid sleep from out men's eyes,  
Thou shalt conduct the right wing of the host,  
The left wing shall be under Segar's charge,  
The rearward shall be under me myself,  
And lovely Estrild fair and gracious,  
If fortune favour me in mine attempts,  
Thou shalt be queen of lovely Albion,  
Fortune shall favour me in mine attempts,  
And make the Queen of lovely Albion.  
Come let us in and muster up our train,  
And furnish up our lusty soldiers,  
That they may be a bulwark to our state,  
And bring our wished joys to perfect end.   

The 2. Scene.  Enter Strumbo, dorothy, Trumpart cobbling shoes and singing. Trum. 
We Cobblers lead a merry life,  All. 
Dan, dan, dan, dan:  Strum. 
Void of all envy and of strife:  All. 
Dan diddle dan.  Dor. 
Our ease is great, our labour small:  All. 
Dan, dan, dan, dan.  Strum. 
And yet our gains be much withal:  All. 
Dan diddle dan.  Dor. 
With this art so fine and fair:  All. 
Dan, dan, dan, dan.  Trum. 
No occupation may compare  All. 
Dan diddle dan:  Strum. 
For merry pastime and joyful glee:  
Dan, dan, dan, dan.  Dor. 
Most happy men we Cobblers be:  
Dan diddle dan.  Trum. 
The can stands full of nappy ale,  
Dan: dan: dan: dan:  Strum. 
In our shop still withouten fail:  
Dan diddle dan.  Dor. 
This is our meat, this is our food:  
Dan: dan: dan: dan:  Trum. 
This brings us to a merry mood:  
Dan diddle dan.  Strum. 
This makes us work for company:  
Dan, dan, dan, dan:  Dor. 
To pull the tankards cheerfully:  
Dan diddle dan.  Trum. 
Drink to thy husband dorothy,  
Dan, dan, dan, dan:  Dor. 
Why then my Strumbo there's to thee:  
Dan diddle dan:  Strum. 
Drink thou the rest Trumpart amain:  
Dan, dan, dan, dan.  Dor. 
When that is gone we'll fillit again,  
Dan diddle dan.  Cap. 
The poorest state is farthest from annoy,  
How merrily he sitteth on his stool:  
But when he sees that needs he must be priest,  
he'll turn his note and sing another tune,  
Ho, by your leave master Cobbler:  Stru. 
You are welcome gentleman, what will you any old shoes or buskins, or will you have your shoes clouted, I will do them as well as any Cobbler in Cathues whatsoever?  Captain showing him press money. 
O master Cobbler you are far deceived in me, for done you see this? I come not to buy any shoes, but to buy yourself; come sir you must be a soldier in the king's cause.  Strum. 
Why but hear you sir, has your king any commission to take any man against his will. I promise you I can scant believe it, or did he give you commission?  Cap. 
O sir, ye need not care for that, I need no commission: hold here, I command you in the name of our king Albanact, to appear tomorrow in the townhouse of Cathnes.  Strum. 
King Nactabell, I cry God mercy, what have we to do with him, or he with us? but you sir master capoutaile, draw your pasteboard, or else I promise you, I'll give you a canvasado with a bastinado over your shoulders, and teach you to come hither with your implements.  Cap. 
I pray thee good fellow be content, I do the king's command.  Strum. 
Put me out of your book then.  Cap. 
I may not.  Strumbo snatching up a staff. 
No will, come sir will your stomach serve you, by gog's blue hood and halidom, I will have about with you.  Fight both. Enter Thrasimachus. 
How now, what noise, what sudden clamours this?  
How now, my captain and the cobbler so hard at it?  
Sirs what is your quarrel?  Cap. 
Nothing sir, but that he will not take press money.  Thra. 
Here good fellow take it at my command,  
Unless you mean to be stretched.  Strum. 
Truly master gentleman, I lack no money, if you please I will resign it to one of these poor fellows.  Thrasi. 
No such matter,  
Look you be at the common house tomorrow.  Exit Thrasimachus and the captain. Strum. 
O wife I have spun a fair thread, if I had been quiet, I had not been priest, and therefore well may I wayment; But come sirrah shut up, for we must to the wars.  Exeunt.  

The 4. Scene.  Enter Albanact, Debon, Thrasimachus, and the Lords. Alba. 
Brave cavaliers, princes of Albany,  
Whose trenchant blades with our deceased sire,  
Passing the frontiers of brave Graecia,  
Were bathed in our enemy's lukewarm blood,  
Now is the time to manifest your wills,  
Your haughty minds and resolutions,  
Now opportunity is offered  
To try your courage and your earnest zeal,  
Which you always protest to Albanact,  
For at this time, yea at this present time,  
Stout fugitives come from the Scythians bounds  
Have pestered every place with mutinies:  
But trust me Lordings I will never cease  
To persecute the rascal runagates,  
Till all the rivers stained with their blood,  
Shall fully show their fatal overthrow.  Deb. 
So shall your highness merit great renown,  
And imitate your aged father's steps.  Alba. 
But tell me cousin, camest thou through the plains?  
And sawst thou there the faint heart fugitives  
Mustering their weather-beaten soldiers,  
What order keep they in their marshalling?  Thra. 
After we passed the groves of Caledone,  
Where murmuring rivers slide with silent streams  
We did behold the straggling Scythians camp,  
replete with men, stored with munition;  
There might we see the valiant minded knight's  
Fetching carriers along the spacious plains,  
Humber and Hubba armed in azure blue,  
Mounted upon their coursers white as snow,  
Went to behold the pleasant flowering fields;  
Hector and Troialus, Priamus' lovely sons,  
Chasing the Grecians over Simoeis,  
Were not to be compared to these two knights.  Alba. 
Well hast thou painted out in eloquence  
The portraiture of Humber and his son;  
As fortunate as was Polycrates,  
Yet should they not escape our conquering swords,  
Or boast of ought but of our clemency.  Enter Strumbo and Trompart, crying often; 
Wild fire and pitch, wild fire and pitch, etc.  Thra. 
What sirs what mean you by these clamours made,  
Those outcries raised in our stately court?  Strum. 
Wild fire and pitch, wild fire and pitch.  Thra. 
villains I say, tell us the cause hereof?  Strum. 
Wild fire and pitch, etc.  Thra. 
Tell me you villains, why you make this noise,  
Or with my lance I will prick your bowels out.  Al. 
Where are your houses, where's your dwelling place?  Strum. 
Place, Ha, ha, ha, laugh, a month and a day at him; place, I cry God mercy, why do you think that such poor honest men as we be, hold our habitacles in kings palaces: Ha? ha, ha. But because you seem to be an abominable chieftain, I will tell you our state.  

From the top to the toe,  
From the head to the shoe;  
From the beginning to the ending,  
From the building to the burning.   
This honest fellow and I had our mansion cottage in the suburbs of this city, hard by the temple of Mercury. And by the common soldiers of the Shitens, the Scythians; what do you call them? with all the suburbs were burnt to the ground, and the ashes are left there, for the country wives to wash bucks withal. And that which grieves me most, my loving wife, O cruel strife; the wicked flames did roast.  

And therefore captain crust,  
We will continually cry,  
Except you seek a remedy  
Our houses to re-edify  
Which now are burnt to dust.   Both cry; Wild fire and pitch, wild fire and pitch. Alba. 
Well we must remedy these outrages,  
And throw revenge upon their hateful heads,  
And you good fellows for your houses burnt,  
We will remunerate you store of gold,  
And build your houses by our palace gate.  Strumbo. 
Gate, O petty treason to my person, nowhere else but by your backside; gate, oh how I am vexed in my collar; gate, I cry God mercy, do you hear master king? If you mean to gratify such poor men as we be, you must build our houses by the Tavern.  Alba. 
It shall be done sir.  Strum. 
Near the Tavern, I by lady sir it was spoken like a good fellow. Do you hear sir, when our house is builded, if you do chance to pass or repass that way, we will bestow a quart of the best wine upon you?  Exit. Alb. 
It grieves me lordings that my subjects goods  
Should thus be spoiled by the Scythians,  
Who as you see with lightfoot foragers  
Depopulate the places where they come,  
But cursed Humber thou shalt rue the day  
That ere thou camest unto Cathuesia.  Exeunt.  

The 2. Act. Scene 5.  Enter Humber, Hubba, Segar, Trussier, and their soldiers. Hum. 
Hubba, go take a coronet of our horse  
As many lancers, and light armed knights  
As may suffice for such an enterprise,  
And place them in the grove of Caledon,  
With these, whenas the skirmish doth increase  
Retire thou from the shelters of the wood,  
And set upon the weakened Trojans backs,  
For policy joined with chivalry  
Can never be put back from victory.  Exit. Albanact enter and say, clowns with him. 
Thou base born hun, how durst thou be so bold  
As once to menace warlike Albanact?  
The great commander of these regions,  
But thou shalt buy thy rashness with thy death,  
And rue too late thy over bold attempts,  
For with this sword this instrument of death,  
That hath been drenched in my foe-men's blood,  
I'll separate thy body from thy head,  
And set that coward blood of thine abroach.  Strum. 
Nay with this staff great Strumbo's instrument,  
I'll crack thy cocks come paltry Scythian.  Hum. 
Nor wreak I of thy threats thou princox boy,  
Nor do I fear thy foolish insolency,  
And but thou better use thy bragging blade,  
Than thou dost rule thy overflowing tongue,  
Superbious Britain, thou shalt know too soon  
The force of Humber and his Scythians.  Let them fight. Humber and his soldiers run in. Strum. 
O horrible, terrible.   

The sixth Act.  Sound the alarm. Enter Humber and his soldiers. Hum. 
How bravely this young Britain Albanact  
Darteth abroad the thunderbolts of war,  
Beating down millions with his furious mood;  
And in his glory triumphs over all,  
Moving the massy squadrants of the ground;  
Heap hills on hills, to scale the starry sky,  
When Briareus armed with an hundredth hands  
Flung forth an hundredth mountains at great jove,  
And when the monstrous giant Monichus  
Hurled mount olympus at great Mars his targe,  
And shot huge cedars at Minerva's shield;  
How doth he overlook with haughty front  
My fleeting hosts, and lifts his lofty face  
Against us all that now do fear his force,  
Like as we see the wrathful sea from far  
In a great mountain heaped with hideous noise  
With thousand billows beat against the ships,  
And toss them in the waves like tennis balls.  Sound the alarm. Humb. 
Ay me, I fear my Hubba is surprised.  Sound again; Enter Albanact. Alba. 
Follow me soldiers, follow Albanact;  
Pursue the Scythians flying through the field:  
Let none of them escape with victory:  
That they may know the Britain's force is more  
Than all the power of the trembling Hunnes.  Thra. 
Forward brave soldiers, forward keep the chase,  
He that takes captive Humber or his son,  
Shall be rewarded with a crown of gold.  Sound alarm, then let them fight, Humber give back, Hubba enter at their backs, and kill Debon, let Strumbo fall down, Albanact run in, and afterwards enter wounded. Alba. 
Injurious fortune hast thou crossed me thus?  
Thus in the morning of my victories,  
Thus in the prime of my felicity  
To cut me off by such hard overthrow;  
Hadst thou no time thy rancour to declare,  
But in the spring of all my dignities?  
Hadst thou no place to spit thy venom out  
But on the person of young Albanact?  
I that ere while did scare mine enemies,  
And drove them almost to a shameful flight,  
I that ere while full lion-like did fare  
Amongst the dangers of the thick thronged pikes,  
Must now depart most lamentably slain  
By humber's treacheries and fortune's spites:  
Cursed be their charms, damned be her cursed charms  
That doth delude the wayward hearts of men,  
Of men that trust unto her fickle wheel,  
Which never leaveth turning upside down.  
O gods, O heavens, allot me but the place  
Where I may find her hateful mansion,  
I'll pass the Alps to watery Merae,  
Where fiery Phoebus in his chariot  
The wheels whereof are decked with Emeralds,  
Cast such a heat, yea such a scorching heat,  
And spoileth Flora of her chequered grass,  
I'll overrun the mountain Caucasus,  
Where fell Chimaera in her triple shape  
Rolleth hot flames from out her monstrous paunch,  
Scaring the beasts with issue of her gorge,  
I'll pass the frozen Zone where icy flakes  
Stopping the passage of the fleeting ships  
Do lie, like mountains in the congealed sea,  
Where if I find that hateful house of hers,  
I'll pull the fickle wheel from out her hands,  
And tie herself in everlasting bands:  
But all in vain I breathe these threatenings,  
The day is lost, the Hunnes are conquerors,  
Deoon is slain, my men are done to death,  
The currents swift, swim violently with blood  
And last, O that this last night so long last,  
myself with wounds past all recovery,  
Must leave my crown for Humber to possess.  Strum. 
Lord have mercy upon us; masters I think this is a holy day, every man lies sleeping in the fields, but God knows full sore against their wills.  Thra. 
Fly noble Albanact and save thyself,  
The Scythians follow with great celerity,  
And there's no way but fight, or speedy death,  
Fly noble Albanact and save thyself.  Sound the alarm. Alba. 
Nay let them fly that fear to die the death  
That tremble at the name of fatal mors,  
never shall proud Humber boast or brag himself  
That he hath put young Albanact to flight,  
And lest he should triumph at my decay,  
This sword shall reave his master of his life,  
That oft hath saved his masters doubtful life:  
But oh my brethren if you care for me,  
Revenge my death upon his traitorous head.  

Et vos queis domus ect nigrantis regia ditis,  
Qui regitis rigido stigios mother a'mine lucos:  
Nox caeci regina poli furialis Erinys  
Diique de aeque omnes Albanum tollite regem  
Tollite fluminis undis rigidaque palude  
Nunc me fata vocant, hoc condam pectore ferrum.   Thrust himself through. Enter Trumpart. 
O what hath he done, his nose bleeds? but oh I smell a fox,  
Look where my master lies, master, master.  Strum. 
Let me alone I tell thee, for I am dead.  Trum. 
Yet one, good, good, master.  Strum. 
I will not speak, for I am dead I tell thee.  Trum. 
And is my master dead?  
O sticks and stones, brickbats and bones,  
and is my master dead?  
O you cockatrices and you bablatrices,  
that in the woods dwell:  
You briars and brambles, you cooks shops and shambles,  
come howl and yell.  
With howling & shrieking, with wailing and weeping.  
come you to lament.  
O Colliers of Croyden, and rustics of Royden,  
and fishers of Kent.  
For Strumbo the cobbler, the fine merry cobbler  
of Cathnes town:  
At this same stour, at this very hour  
lies dead on the ground.  
O master, thieves, thieves, thieves.  Strum. 
Where be they? cox me tunny, bobekin let me be rising, be gone, we shall be robbed by and by. Exeunt.   

The 8. Act.  Enter Humber, Hubba, Segar, Thrassier, Estrild, and the soldiers. Hum. 
Thus from the dreadful shocks of furious Mars  
Thundering alarms, and Rhamnusia's drum  
We are retired with joyful victory,  
The slaughtered Trojans squeltering in their blood,  
Infect the air with their carcases,  
And are a pray for every ravenous bird.  Estrild. 
So perish they that are our enemies.  
So perish they that love not humber's weal.  
And mighty jove commander of the world,  
Protect my love from all false treacheries.  Hum. 
Thanks lovely Estrild, solace to my soul.  
But valiant Hubba for thy chivalry  
Declared against the men of Albany,  
Lo here a flowering garland wreathed of bay,  
As a reward for thy forward mind.  Set it on his head. Hub. 
This unexpected honour noble sire,  
Will prick my courage unto braver deeds,  
And cause me to attempt such hard exploits,  
That all the world shall sound of Hubba's name.  Hum. 
And now brave soldiers for this good success,  
Carouse whole cups of Amazonian wine,  
Sweeter than Nectar or Ambrosia,  
And cast away the clods of cursed care,  
With goblets crowned with semeleius' gifts,  
Now let us march to abis' silver streams  
That clearly glide along the Champaign fields,  
And moist the grassy meads with humid drops.  
Sound drums & trumpets, sound up cheerfully,  
Sith we return with joy and victory.    

The 3. Act.  

Scene 1.  Enter Ate as before. The dumb show. A Crocodile sitting on a rivers bank, and a little Snake stinging it. Then let both of them fall into the water. Ate. 
Scelera in authorem cadunt.  
High on a bank by Nilus' boisterous streams,  
Fearfully sat the Egyptian Crocodile,  
Dreadfully grinding in her sharp long teeth,  
The broken bowels of a silly fish,  
His back was armed against the dint of spear,  
With shields of brass that shined like burnished gold  
And as he stretched forth his cruel paws,  
A subtle Adder creeping closely near  
Thrusting his forked sting into his claws,  
Privily shed his poison through his bones  
Which made him swell that there his bowels burst,  
That did so much in his own greatness 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.   

The 2. Scene.  Enter Locrine, Guendoline, Corineus, Assaracus, Thrasimachus, Camber. Locrine. 
And is this true, is Albanactus slain?  
Hath cursed Humber with his straggling host  
With that his army made of apparel curs,  
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 flinty joints of every stony rock,  
By which the Scythians might be punished,  
For by the lightning of almighty jove  
The hun shall die, had he ten thousand lives:  
And would to God he had ten thousand lives,  
That I might with the armstrong Hercules  
Crop off so vile an hidra's hissing heads,  
But say me x, for I long to hear  
How Albanact came by untimely death?  Thrasi. 
After the traitorous host of Scythians,  
Entered the field with martial equipage  
Young Albanact impatient of delay  
Led forth his army 'gainst the straggling mates,  
Whose multitude did daunt our soldiers minds,  
Yet nothing could dismay the forward prince,  
But with a courage most heroical  
Like to a lion 'mongst a flock of lambs  
Made havoc 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 soldiers  
Cowardly came upon our weakened backs,  
And murdered all with fatal massacre,  
Amongst the which old Debon martial knight,  
With many wounds was brought unto the death.  
And Albanact oppressed with multitude  
Whilst valiantly he field his enemies  
Yielded his life and honour to the dust,  
He being dead, the soldiers 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 Emperor of barbarous Asia,  
When he beheld his noble minded sons  
Slain traitorously by all the Myrmidons,  
Lamented more than I for Albanact.  Guen. 
Not Hecuba the queen of Ilium  
When she beheld the town of Pergamus,  
Her palace burned, with all devouring flames,  
Her fifty sons and daughters fresh of hue,  
Murdered by wicked Pyrrhus' bloody sword,  
Shed such sad tears as I for Albanact.  Cam. 
The grief of Niobe fair Athens queen,  
For her seven sons magnanimous in field,  
For her seven daughters fairer than the fairest,  
Is not to be compared with my laments.  Cor. 
In vain you sorrow for the slaughtered 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 arms  
Hath Corineus ready at command:  
All these and more, if need shall more require,  
Hath Corrineus ready at command.  Cam. 
And in the fields of martial Cambria,  
Close by the boisterous Iscan's silver streams,  
Where lightfoot fairs skip from bank to bank,  
Full twenty thousand brave courageous knights  
Well exercised in feats of chivalry,  
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 brother's death.  Loc. 
Thanks loving uncle and good brother too,  
For this revenge, for this sweet word revenge  
Must ease and cease thy wrongful injuries,  
And by the sword of bloody Mars I swear,  
near shall sweet quiet enter this my front,  
Till I be venged on his traitorous head  
That slew my noble brother Albanact.  
Sound drums and trumpets, muster up the camp,  
For we will straight march to Albania.  Exeunt.  

The 3. Scene.  Enter Humber, Estrild, Hubba, Trussier, and the soldiers. 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 blood,  
And change his bluish hue to rueful red,  
By reason of the fatal massacre  
Which shall be made upon the virent plains.  Enter the ghost of Almanact. 
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 wild, unstable, fickle, frail.  Hum. 
methinks 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 strawed with carcases,  
Behold the grass hath lost his pleasant green,  
The sweetest sight that ever might be seen.  Ghost. 
I traitorous Humber, thou shalt find it so,  
Yea to thy cost thou shalt the same behold,  
With anguish, sorrow, and with sad laments,  
The grassy plains that now do please thine eyes,  
Shall ere the night be coloured all with blood,  
The shady groves which now enclose thy camp  
And yield sweet savours to thy damned corpse,  
Shall ere the night figured all with blood,  
The profound stream that passeth by thy tents,  
And with his moisture serveth all thy camp,  
Shall ere the night converted be to blood,  
Yea with the blood of those thy straggling boys,  
For now revenge shall ease my lingering 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 victory,  
Or die with fame renowned for chivalry,  
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 enchanted in grim Pluto's court,  
And kept for treasure 'mongst his hellish crew,  
I would either quell the triple Cerberus  
And all the army of his hateful hags,  
Or roll the stone with wretched Sisiphon.  Hum. 
Right martial be thy thoughts my noble son,  
And all thy words savour of chivalry,  
But warlike Segar what strange accidents  
Makes you to leave the warding of the camp.  Segar. 
To arms my Lord, to honourable arms,  
Take helm and targe in hand the Britons come,  
With greater multitude than erst the Greeks  
Brought to the ports of Phrygian Tenidos.  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 blissful star will favour us,  
And comfort bring to our perplexed state:  
Come let us in and fortify our camp,  
So to withstand their strong invasion.  Exeunt.  

The 4. Scene.  Enter Strumbo, Trumpart, Oliver, and his son William following them. Strum. 
Nay neighbour Oliver, if you be so hot, come prepare yourself, you shall find two as stout fellows of us, as any in all the North.  Oliu. 
No by my dorth neighbour Strumbo, Ich zee dat you are a man of small zideration, dat will zeek to injure your old vreendes, one of your familiar guests, and derefore zeeing your pinion is to deal withouten reason, iche and my zonne William will take dat course, dat shall be farthest 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?  Wil. 
Marry sir, what reason had you when my sister was in the barn to rumble her upon the hay, and to fish her belly.  Strum. 
Mas thou sayst true, well, but would you have me marry her therefore? No I scorn her, and you, and you. ay, I scorn you all.  Oliu. 
You will not have her then?  Strum. 
No as I am a true gentleman.  Wil. 
Then will we school you, ere you and we part hence.  Enter margery and snatch the staff out of her brother's hand, as he is fighting. Strum. 
I you come in pudding time, or else I had dressed them.  Mar. 
You master saucebox, lobcock, coxcomb, you slopsauce, lickfingers, will you not hear?  Strum. 
Who speak you too, me?  Mar. 
ay sir to you, john lack honesty, little wit, is it you that will have none of me?  Strum. 
No by my troth, mistress nicebice, how fine you can nickname me, I think you were brought up in the university of bridewell, you have your rhetoric so ready at your tongues end, as if you were never well warned when your were young.  Mar. 
Why then goodman codshead, 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.  Oliu. 
How now master Strumbo, hath my daughter taught you a new lesson?  Strum. 
ay 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 zonne well, for you are my zonne 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 done thy master, this it is to be meddling with warm plackets.  Exeunt.  

The 5. Scene.  Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineus, Thrasimachus, Assarachus. Loc. 
Now am I guarded with an host of men,  
Whose haughty courage is invincible,  
Now am I hemmed with troops of soldiers,  
Such as might force Bellona to retire,  
And make her tremble at their puissance,  
Now sit I like the mighty god of war,  
When armed with his coat of adamant,  
Mounted his chariot drawn with mighty bulls,  
He drove the Argives over Xanthus' streams.  
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 crossed with argent streams,  
The ornaments of thy pavilions  
Shall all be captivated with this hand,  
And thou thyself at Albanactus tomb  
Shalt offered be in satisfaction  
Of all the wrongs thou didst him when he lived.  
But canst thou tell me brave Thrasimachus,  
How far we are distant from humber's camp?  Thra. 
My Lord, within your foul accursed grove  
That bears the tokens of our overthrow,  
This Humber hath entrenched his damned camp.  
March on my Lord, because I long to see  
The treacherous Scythians squeltering in their gore.  Locri. 
Sweet fortune favour Locrine with a smile,  
That I may venge my noble brother's death,  
And in the midst of stately Troynovant,  
I'll build a temple to thy deity  
Of perfect marble and of jacinthe stones,  
That it shall pass the high Pyramids  
Which with their top surmount the firmament.  Cam. 
The armestrong offspring of the doubted knight,  
Stout Hercules Alcmena's mighty son,  
That tamed the monsters of the threefold world,  
And rid the oppressed from the tyrant's yokes,  
Did never show such valiantness in fight,  
As I will now for noble Albanact.  Cori. 
Full four score years hath Corineus lived,  
Sometime in war, sometime in quiet peace,  
And yet I feel myself to be as strong  
As erst I was in summer of mine age,  
Able to toss this great unwieldy club  
Which hath been painted with my foemen's brains,  
And with this club i'll break the strong array  
Of Humber and his straggling soldiers,  
Or lose my life amongst the thickest press,  
And die with honour in my latest days,  
Yet ere I die they all shall understand  
What force lies in stout Corineus' hand.  Thra. 
And if Thrasimachus detract the fight,  
Either for weakness or for cowardice,  
Let him not boast that Brutus was his eme,  
Or that brave Corineus was his sire.  Loc. 
Then courage soldiers, first for your safety,  
Next for your peace, last for your victory. Exeunt.  Sound the alarm. Enter Hubba and Segar at one door, and Corineus at the other. Cori. 
Art thou that Humber prince of fugitives,  
That by thy treason slewst young Albanact?  Hub. 
I am his son that slew young Albanact,  
And if thou take not heed proud Phrygian,  
I'll send thy soul unto the Stygian lake,  
There to complain of humber's injuries.  Cori. 
You triumph sir before the victory,  
For Corineus is not so soon slain.  
But cursed Scythians you shall rue the day  
That ere you came into Albania.  
So perish that they envy Britain's wealth,  
So let them die with endless infamy,  
And he that seeks his sovereign's overthrow,  
Would this my club might aggravate his woe.  Strikes them both down with his club. Enter Humber. 
Where may I find some desert wilderness,  
Where I may breathe out curses as I would,  
And scare the earth with my condemning voice,  
Where every echoes repercussion  
May help me to bewail mine overthrow,  
And aid me in my sorrowful laments?  
Where may I find some hollow uncouth rock,  
Where I may damn, condemn and ban my fill,  
The heavens, the hell, the earth, the air, the fire,  
And utter curses to the concave sky,  
Which may infect the airy regions,  
And light upon the Britain Locrine's head?  
You ugly sprites that in Cocytus mourn,  
And gnash your teeth with dolorous laments,  
Yea fearful dogs that in black Lathe howl,  
And scare the ghosts with your wide open throats,  
You ugly ghosts that flying from these dogs,  
Do plunge yourselves in Pyriphlegeton,  
Come all of you, and with your shrieking notes  
accompany the Britons conquering host.  
Come fierce Erinys 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 stars, damned be the gods & stars  
That did not drown me in fair Thetis plains.  
Cursed be the sea that with outrageous waves  
With surging billows did not rive my ships  
Against the rocks of high Cerannia,  
Or swallowed me into her watery gulf,  
Would God we had arrived upon the shore  
Where Polyphemus and the Cyclops dwell,  
Or where the bloody anthropophagy  
With greedy jaws devours the wandering wights,  Enter the ghost of Albanact. 
But why comes albanact's bloody ghost,  
To bring a corsive to our miseries?  
be't not enough to suffer shameful flight,  
But we must be tormented now with ghosts,  
With apparitions fearful to behold.  Ghost. 
Revenge, revenge for blood.  Hum. 
So nought will satisfy your wandering ghost  
But dire revenge, nothing but humber's fall,  
Because he conquered you in Ulbany.  
Now by my soul Humber would be condemned  
To Tantal's hunger or Ixion's wheel,  
Or to the vulture of Prometheus,  
Rather than that this murder were undone.  
whenas I die i'll drag thy cursed ghost  
Through all the rivers of foul Erebus,  
Through burning sulphur of the Limbo-lake,  
To allay the burning fury of that heat  
That rageth in mine everlasting soul.  Exeunt. Alba. ghost. Vindicta, vindicta.   

The 4. Act.  

Scene 1.  Enter Ate as before. Then let their follow Omphale daughter to the king of Lydia, having a club in her hand, and a lion's skin on her back, Hercules following with a distaff. Then let Omphale turn about, and taking off her pantofle, strike Hercules on the head, then let them depart. Ate remaining, saying; 
Quem non Argolici mandata severa Tyranni,  
Non potuit Iuno vincere, vicit amor.  
Stout Hercules the mirror of the world,  
Son to Alcmena and great jupiter,  
After so many conquests won in field,  
After so many monsters quelled by force,  
Yielded his valiant heart to Omphale,  
A fearful woman void of manly strength,  
She took the club, and wore the lion's skin,  
He took the wheel, and maidenly 'gan spin.  
So martial Locrine cheered with victory,  
Falleth in love with humber's concubine,  
And so forgetteth peerless Guendoline.  
His uncle Corineus storms at this,  
And forceth Locrine for his grace to sue,  
Lo here the sum, the process doth ensue.  Exit.  

The 2. Scene.  Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineus, Assaracus, Thrasimachus, and the soldiers. Loc. 
Thus from the fury of Bellona's broils,  
With sound of drum and trumpets melody,  
The Britain king returns triumphantly,  
The Scythians slain with great occision,  
Do equalize the grass in multitude,  
And with their blood have stained 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 guises, and damned stratagems,  
With loss of life, and ever during shame.  
Where are thy horses trapped with burnished gold,  
Thy trampling coursers ruled with foaming bits?  
Where are thy soldiers strong and numberless,  
Thy valiant captains and thy noble peers?  
even as the country clowns with sharpest scythes  
Do mow the withered grass 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 peers,  
And drove thine host unto confusion,  
That thou mayst suffer penance for thy fault,  
And die for murdering valiant Albanact.  Cori. 
And thus, yea thus shall all the rest be served  
That seek to enter Albion 'gainst our wills.  
If the brave nation of the troglodytes,  
If all the coal-black Aethiopians,  
If all the forces of the Amazons,  
If all the hosts 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 brutish beasts they shall be served.  
For mighty love the supreme king of heaven,  
That guides the concourse of the meteors,  
And rules the motion of the azure sky,  
Fights always for the Britons' safety.  
But stay, methinks I hear some shrieking noise,  
That draweth near to our pavilion.  Enter the soldiers leading in Estrild. Estrild. 
What prince soe'er adorned with golden  
Doth sway the regal sceptre 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 manortial bands,  
Compassed with princes of the noble blood,  
Now am I fallen into my foemen's hands,  
And with my death must pacify their mood.  
O life the harbour of calamities,  
O death the haven of all miseries,  
I could compare my sorrows to thy woe,  
Thou wretched queen of wretched Pergamus,  
But that thou viewedst thy enemies overthrow.  
Nigh to the rock of high Caphareus,  
Thou sawst their death, and then departedst thence,  
I must abide the victor's insolence.  
The gods that pitied thy continual grief,  
Transformed thy corpse, and with thy corpse thy care,  
Poor Estrild lives despairing 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 havoc of them all.  
Thrice happy they whose fortune was so good,  
To end their lives, and with their lives their woes,  
Thrice hapless I, whom fortune so withstood,  
That cruelly she gave me to my foes.  
Oh soldiers is there any misery,  
To be compared to fortune's treachery.  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 floods of woes she seems o'erwhelmed to be  Cam. 
O Locrine hath she not a cause for to be sad?  Locrine at one side of the stage. 
If she have cause to weep for humber's death,  
And shed salt tears for her overthrow,  
Locrine may well bewail his proper grief,  
Locrine may move his own peculiar woe,  
He being conquered died a speedy death,  
And felt not long his lamentable smart,  
I being conqueror, live a lingering 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 die,  
Those roseal checks mixed with a snowy white,  
That decent neck surpassing ivory,  
Those comely breasts which Venus well might spite,  
Are like to snares which wily 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 entrapped poor Locrine's lovesick heart,  
That from the same no way it can be won.  
How true is that which oft I heard declared,  
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 wretchedness.  Loc. 
Hard is their thrall who by Cupid's frown  
Are wrapped in waves of endless carefulness.  Estr. 
Oh kingdom object to all miseries.  Loc. 
Oh love, the extrem'st of all extremities.  
Let him go into his chair.  A 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 deprivest me of my right.  1. Sol. 
Resign thy title (caitiff) unto me,  
Or with my sword i'll pierce thy cowards loins.  2. Sol. 
Soft words good sir, 'tis not enough to speak  
A barking dog doth seldom strangers bite.  Loc. 
Unreverent villains, strive you in our sight?  
Take them hence jailor to the dungeon,  
There let them lie and try their quarrel out.  
But thou fair princess be no whit dismayed,  
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  Est. 
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 linked to me in marriage bond,  
And would you have me love his slaughterer?  Loc. 
Better to live, than not to live at all.  Estrild. 
Better to die renowned for chastity,  
Then live with shame and endless infamy.  
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.  Lo. 
Upon mine honour thou shalt have no harm.  Est. 
Then lo brave Locrine, Estrild yields to thee,  
And by the gods whom thou dost invocate,  
By the dead ghost of thy deceased sire,  
By thy right hand and by thy burning love,  
Take pity on poor estrild's 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 been faithful to thy sire now dead,  
Have I protected thee from humber's hands,  
And dost thou quite me with ungratitude?  
Is this the guerdon for my grievous wounds,  
Is this the honour for my labours passed?  
Now by my sword, Locrine I swear to thee,  
This injury of thine shall be repaid.  Loc. 
Uncle, scorn you your royal sovereign,  
As if we stood for ciphers 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. 
avaunt proud princox, brav'st thou me withal,  
Assure thyself though thou be Emperor  
Thou near 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, lo I reconcile myself,  
But as thou lov'st thy life, so love thy wife:  
But if thou violate those promises,  
Blood and revenge shall light upon thy head.  
Come let us back to stately Troynovant,  
Where all these matters shall be settled.  Locrine to himself. 
Millions of devils wait upon thy soul.  
Legion of spirits vex thy impious ghost.  
Ten thousand torments rack thy cursed bones.  
Let every thing that hath the use of breath,  
Be instruments and workers of thy death.  Exeunt.  

The 3. Scene.  Enter Humber alone, his hair hanging over his shoulders, his arms all bloody, and a dart in one hand. Hum. 
What basilisk was hatched in this place,  
Where every thing consumed is to nought?  
What fearful Fury haunts these cursed groves,  
Where not a root is left for humber's meat?  
Hath fell Allecto with envenomed blasts,  
Breathed forth poison in these tender plains?  
Hath triple Cerberus with contagious foam,  
sowed Aconitum 'mongst these withered herbs?  
Hath dreadful Fames with her charming rods  
Brought barrenness on every fruitful tree?  
What not a root, no fruit, no beast, no bird,  
To nourish Humber in this wilderness?  
What would you more you fiends of Erebus,  
My very entrails 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 pitchfork, and a scotch-cap, saying: 
How do you masters, how do you? how have you scaped hanging this long time? i'faith I have scaped many a scouring this year, but I thank God I have passed them all with a good couragio, couragio, & my wife & I are in great love and charity now, I thank my manhood & my strength, for I will tell you masters, upon a certain day at night I came home, to say the very truth, with my stomach full of wine, and ran up into the chamber where my wife soberly sat rocking my little baby, leaning her back against the bed, singing lullaby. Now when she saw me come with my nose foremost, thinking that I been drunk, as I was indeed, snatched up a faggot 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 commandments 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 myself upon her, and there I delighted her so with the sport I made, that ever after she would call me sweet husband, and so banished 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 o'clock, it is now breakfast time, you shall see what meat I have here for my breakfast.  Let him sit down and pull out his victuals. Hum. 
Was ever land so fruitless as this land?  
Was ever grove so graceless as this grove?  
Was ever soil so barren as this soil?  
Oh no: the land where hungry Fames dwelled,  
May no wise equalize this cursed land,  
No even the climate of the torrid zone  
Brings forth more fruit than this accursed grove.  
near came sweet Ceres, near came Venus here,  
Triptolemus the god of husbandmen,  
near sowed his seed in this foul wilderness.  
The hunger-bitten dogs of Acheron,  
chaste from the ninefold Pyriphlegeton,  
Have set their footsteps in this damned ground.  
The iron hearted Furies armed with snakes,  
Scattered huge hydras 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 shall start up and put meat in his pocket, seeking to hide himself. Hum. 
Thou great commander of the starry sky,  
That guid'st the life of every mortal wight  
From the enclosures of the fleeting clouds,  
Rain down some food, or else I faint and die.  
power down some drink, or else I faint and die.  
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'll dash thy cursed brains,  
And rent thy bowels with my bloody 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 ox then that thou shouldst serve me in that sort. Dash out my brains? O horrible, terrible. I think I have a quarry of stones in my pocket.  Let him make as though he would give him some, and as he putteth out his hand, enter the ghost of Albanact, and strike him on the hand, and so Strumbo runs out, Humber following him. Exit. Alba. ghost. 
Lo here the gift of fell ambition,  
Of usurpation and of treachery.  
Lo here the harms that wait upon all those  
That do intrude themselves in others' lands,  
Which are not under their dominion.  Exit.  

The 4. Scene.  Enter Locrine alone. Loc. 
Seven years hath aged Corineus lived  
To Locrine's grief, and fair Estrilda's woe,  
And seven years more he hopeth yet to live,  
Oh supreme jove, annihilate this thought.  
Should he enjoy the airs fruition?  
Should he enjoy the benefit of life?  
Should he contemplate the radiant son,  
That makes my life equal to dreadful death?  
Venus convey this monster fro the earth,  
That disobeyeth thus thy sacred hests.  
Cupid convey this monster to dark hell,  
That disanulls thy mother's sugared laws.  
Mars with thy target all beset with flames,  
With murdering blade bereave him of his life,  
That hindereth Locrine in his sweetest joys.  
And yet for all his diligent aspect,  
His wrathful eyes piercing like lynx''s eyes,  
Well have I overmatched his subtlety.  
Nigh Deucolitum by the pleasant Lee,  
where brackish Thamis slides with silver streams,  
Making a breach into the grassy downs,  
A curious arch of costly marble fraught,  
Hath Locrine framed underneath the ground,  
The walls whereof, garnish with diamonds,  
With ophirs, rubies, glistering emeralds,  
And interlaced with sun-bright carbuncles,  
Lighten the room with artificial day,  
And from the Lee with water-flowing pipes  
The moisture is derived into this arch  
Where I have placed fair Estrild secretly,  
Thither eftsoons accompanied with my page,  
I covertly visit my heart's desire,  
Without suspicion of the meanest eye,  
For love aboundeth still with policy:  
And thither still means Locrine to repair,  
Till Atropos cut off mine uncles life.  Exit.  

The 5. Scene.  Enter Humber alone, saying; Hum. 
O vita miserolonga, faelici brevis,  
Eheu malorem fames extremum malum.  
Long have I lived in this desert cave,  
With eating haws and miserable roots,  
Devouring leaves and beastly excrements.  
caves were my beds, and stones my pillow bears,  
Fear was my sleep, and horror was my dream,  
For still methought at every boisterous blast  
Now Locrine comes, now Humber thou must die:  
So that for fear and hunger, humber's mind  
Can never rest, but always trembling stands.  
O what Danubius now may quench my thirst?  
What Euphrates, what lightfoot Euripus,  
May now allay the fury of that heat,  
Which raging in my entrails eats me up?  
You ghastly devils of the ninefold Sticks,  
You damned ghosts of joyless Acheron,  
You mournful souls, vexed in Abissus vaults,  
You coal-black devils of Auernas' pond,  
Come with your flesh-hooks, rent my famished arms,  
These arms that have sustained their masters life,  
Come with your razors, rip my bowels up,  
With your sharp fireforks crack my starved bones,  
Use me as you will, so Humber may not live.  
Accursed gods that rule the starry poles,  
Accursed jove king of the cursed gods,  
Cast down your lightning on poor humber's head,  
That I may leave this deathlike life of mine,  
What hear you not, and shall not Humber die?  
Nay I will die though all the gods say nay.  
And gentle abye take my troubled corpse,  
Take it and keep it from all mortal eyes,  
That none may say when I have lost my breath,  
The very floods conspire 'gainst humber's death.  Fling himself into the river Enter the ghost of Albanact 
Encaedem sequitur, caedes in caede quiesco.  
Humber is dead, joy heavens, leap earth, dance trees,  
Now mayst thou reach thy apples Tantalus,  
And with them feed thy hunger-bitten limbs.  
Now Sisyphus leave rumbling 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 Taenarus,  
And pass Cocytus, to the Elysian fields,  
And tell my father Brutus of these news.  Exit.   

The 5. Act.  

Scene 1.  Enter Ate as before. Jason leading Creon's daughter. Medea following, hath a garland in her hand, and putting it on Creon's daughter's head, setteth it on fire, and then killing jason and her, departeth. Ate. 
Non non Tincriis excestnat Aetna cavernis,  
Laesae furtino quam cour mulieris amore.  
Medea seeing jason leave her love,  
And choose the daughter of the Theban king,  
Went to her devilish charms to work revenge,  
And raising up the triple Hecate,  
With all the rout of the condemned fiends,  
Framed a garland by her magic skill,  
With which she wrought jason and Creon's ill.  
So Guendoline seeing herself misused,  
And Humber's paramour possess her place,  
Flies to the dukedom of Cornubia,  
And with her brother stout Thrasimachus,  
Gathering a power of Cornish soldiers,  
Gives battle to her husband and his host,  
Nigh to the river of great Mertia,  
The chances of this dismal massacre,  
That which ensueth shortly will unfold. Exit.   

The 2. Scene.  Enter Locrine, Camber, Assarachus, Thrasimachus. Assa. 
But tell me cousin, died by brother so?  
Now who is left to helpless Albion,  
That as a pillar might uphold our state,  
That might strike terror to our daring foes?  
Now who is left to hapless brittany,  
That might defend her from the barbarous hands  
Of those that still desire her ruinous fall,  
And seek to work her downfall and decay?  Cam. 
I uncle death is our common enemy,  
And none but death can match our matchless power  
Witness the fall of albioneus' crew,  
Witness the fall of Humber and his Hunnes,  
And this foul death hath now increased our woe,  
By taking Corineus from this life,  
And in his room leaving us worlds of care.  Thra. 
But none may more bewail his mournful hearse,  
Than I that am the issue of his loins,  
Now foul befall that cursed humber's throat,  
That was the causer of his lingering wound.  Lo. 
Tears cannot raise him from the dead again,  
But where's my Lady mistress Guendoline?  Thra. 
In Cornwall Locrine is my sister now,  
Providing for my father's funeral.  Lo. 
And let her there provide her mourning weeds  
And mourn for ever her own widowhood.  
ne'er shall she come within our palace gate,  
To countercheck brave Locrine in his love.  
Go boy to Deucolitum, down the Lee,  
Unto the arch where lovely Estrild lies,  
Bring her and Sabren straight unto the court,  
She shall be queen in Guendoline's room.  
Let others wail for Corineus death,  
I mean not so to macerate my mind,  
For him that barred me from my heart's desire.  Thra. 
Hath Locrine then forsook his Guendoline?  
Is Corineus death so soon forgot?  
If there be gods in heaven, as sure there be,  
If there be fiends in hell, as needs there must,  
They will revenge this thy notorious wrong,  
And power their plagues upon thy cursed head.  Loc. 
What prat'st thou peasant to thy sovereign?  
Or art thou strooken in some ecstasy?  
Dost thou not tremble at our royal looks?  
Dost thou not quake when mighty Locrine frowns?  
Thou beardless boy, wert not that Locrine scorns  
To vex his mind with such a heartless child,  
With the sharp point of this my battle-axe,  
I would send thy soul to Pyriphlegeton.  Thra. 
Though I be young and of a tender age,  
Yet will I cope with Locrine when he dares.  
My noble father with his conquering sword,  
Slew the two giants kings of Aquitaine.  
Thrasimachus is not so degenerate  
That he should fear and tremble at the looks  
Or taunting words of a venerean squire.  Loc. 
Menacest thou thy royal sovereign,  
uncivil, not beseeming such as you.  
Injurious traitor (for he is no less  
That at defiance standeth with his king)  
Leave these thy taunts, leave these thy bragging words,  
Unless thou mean to leave thy wretched life.  Thra. 
If princes stain their glorious dignity  
With ugly spots of monstrous infamy,  
They lose their former estimation,  
And throw themselves into a hell of hate.  Loc. 
Wilt thou abuse my gentle patience,  
As though thou didst our high displeasure scorn?  
Proud boy, that thou mayst know thy prince is moved,  
Yea greatly moved at this thy swelling pride,  
We banish thee for ever from our court.  Thra. 
Then lozel Locrine, look unto thyself,  
Thrasimachus will venge this injury. Exit.  Lo. 
Farewell proud boy, and learn to use thy tongue.  Assa. 
Alas my Lord, you should have called to mind  
The latest words that Brutus spoke to you,  
How he desired you by the obedience  
That children ought to bear unto their sire,  
To love and favour Lady Guendoline,  
Consider this, that if the injury  
Do move her mind, as certainly it will,  
War and dissension follows speedily.  
What though her power be not so great as yours,  
Have you not seen a mighty elephant  
Slain by the biting of a silly mouse?  
even so the chance of war inconstant is.  Loc. 
Peace uncle peace, and cease to talk hereof,  
For he that seeks by whispering this or that,  
To trouble Locrine in his sweetest life,  
Let him persuade himself to die the death.  Enter the Page, with Estrild and Sabren. Estr. 
O say me Page, tell me where is the king,  
Wherefore doth he send for me to the court,  
Is it to die, is it to end my life,  
Say me sweet boy, tell me and do not feign?  Page. 
No trust me madame, if you will credit the little honesty that is yet left me, there is no such danger as you fear, but prepare yourself, yonder's the king.  Estr. 
Then Estrild lift thy dazzled spirits up,  
And bless that blessed time, that day, that hour,  
That warlike Locrine first did favour thee.  
Peace to the king of Brittany my love,  
Peace to all those that love and favour him.  Locrine taking her up. 
Doth Estrild fall with such submission  
Before her servant king of Albion?  
Arise fair Lady, leave this lowly cheer,  
Lift up those looks that cherish Locrine's heart,  
That I may freely view that roseal face,  
Which so entangled hath my lovesick breast,  
Now to the court where we will court it out,  
And pass the night and day in Venus' sports.  
Frolic brave peers, be joyful with your king.  Exeunt.  

The 3. Scene.  Enter Guendoline, Thrasimachus, Madan, and the soldiers. Guen. 
You gentle winds that with your modest blasts,  
Pass through the circuit of the heavenly vault,  
Enter the clouds unto the throne of jove,  
And bear my prayers to his all hearing ears,  
For Locrine hath forsaken Guendoline,  
And learn to love proud humber's concubine.  
You happy sprites that in the concave sky  
With pleasant joy, enjoy your sweetest love,  
Shed forth those tears with me, which then you shed  
When first you wood your ladies to your wills,  
Those tears are fittest for my woeful case,  
Since Locrine shuns my nothing pleasant face.  
Blush heavens, blush sun, and hide thy shining beams,  
Shadow thy radiant locks in gloomy clouds,  
Deny thy cheerful light unto the world,  
Where nothing reigns but falsehood and deceit.  
What said I, falsehood? I that filthy crime,  
For Locrine hath forsaken Guendoline.  
Behold the heavens do wail for Guendoline.  
The shining sun doth blush for Guendoline.  
The liquid air doth weep for Guendoline.  
The very ground doth groan for Guendoline.  
I they are milder than the Britain king,  
For he rejecteth luckless Guendoline.  Thra. 
Sister, complaints are bootless in this cause,  
This open wrong must have an open plague:  
This plague must be repaid with grievous war,  
This war must finish with Locrinus death,  
His death will soon extinguish our complaints.  Guen. 
O no, his death will more augment my woes,  
He was my husband brave Thrasimachus,  
More dear to me then the apple of mine eye,  
Nor can I find in heart to work his scathe.  Thra. 
madam if not your proper injuries,  
Nor my exile, can move you to revenge,  
Think on our father Corineus words,  
His words to us stands always for a law,  
Should Locrine live that caused my father's death?  
Should Locrine live that now divorceth you?  
The heavens, the earth, the air, the fire reclaims,  
And then why should all we deny the same?  Guen. 
Then henceforth farewell womanish complaints,  
All childish pity henceforth then farewell:  
But cursed Locrine look unto thyself,  
For Nemesis the mistress of revenge,  
Sits armed at all points on our dismal blades,  
And cursed Estrild that inflamed his heart,  
Shall if I live, die a reproachful death.  Madan. 
Mother, though nature makes me to lament,  
My luckless father's froward lechery,  
Yet for he wrongs my Lady mother thus,  
I if I could, myself would work his death.  Thra. 
See madame see, the desire of revenge  
Is in the children of a tender age.  
Forward brave soldiers into Mertia,  
Where we shall brave the coward to his face.  Exeunt.  

The 4. Scene.  Enter Locrine, Estrild, Habren, Assarachus, and the soldiers. Loc. 
Tell me Assaracus, are the Cornish chuffs  
In such great number come to Mertia,  
And have they pitched there their petty host,  
So close unto our royal mansion.  Assa. 
They are my Lord, and mean incontinent  
To bid defiance to your majesty.  Loc. 
It makes me laugh, to think that Guendoline  
Should have the heart to come in arms 'gainst me.  Estr. 
Alas my Lord, the horse will run amain  
whenas the spur doth gall him to the bone,  
jealousy Locrine hath a wicked sting.  Lac. 
sayst thou so Estrild, beauty's paragon?  
Well we will try her choler to the proof,  
And make her know Locrine can brook no braves.  
March on Assaracus, thou must lead the way,  
And bring us to their proud pavilion. Exeunt.   

The 5. Scene.  Enter the ghost of Corineus, with thunder & lightning. Ghost. 
Behold the circuit of the azure sky,  
Throws forth sad throbs, and grievous suspires,  
Prejudicating Locrine's overthrow,  
The fire casteth forth sharp darts of flames,  
The great foundation of the triple world,  
Trembleth and quaketh with a mighty noise,  
Presaging bloody massacres at hand.  
The wandering birds that flutter in the dark,  
When hellish night in cloudy chariot seated,  
Casteth her mists on shady tellus' face,  
With sable mantles covering all the earth,  
Now flies abroad amid the cheerful day,  
Foretelling some unwonted misery.  
The snarling curs of darkened Tartarus,  
Sent from avernus ponds by Radamanth,  
With howling ditties pester every wood,  
The watery ladies and the light foot fawns,  
And all the rabble of the woody Nymphs,  
All trembling hide themselves in shady groves,  
And shroud themselves in hideous hollow pits.  
The boisterous Boreas thundereth forth revenge.  
The stony rocks cry out on sharp revenge.  
The thorny bush pronounceth dire revenge.  Sound the alarm. 
Now Corineus stay and see revenge,  
And feed thy soul with Locrine's overthrow.  
Behold they come, the trumpets call them forth.  
The roaring drums summon the soldiers.  
Lo where their army glistereth on the plains,  
Throw forth thy lightning mighty jupiter,  
And power thy plagues on cursed Locrine's head.  Stand aside. Enter Locrine, Estrild, Assaracus, Habren and their soldiers at one door, Thrasimachus, Guendolin, Madan and their followers at another. Loc. 
What is the tiger started from his cave?  
Is Guendoline come from Cornubia,  
That thus she braveth Locrine to the teeth?  
And hast thou found thine armour pretty boy,  
Accompanied with these thy straggling mates?  
Believe me but this enterprise was bold,  
And well deserveth commendation.  Guen. 
I Locrine, traitorous Locrine we are come,  
With full pretence to seek thine overthrow,  
What have I done that thou shouldst scorn me thus?  
What have I said that thou shouldst me reject?  
Have I been disobedient to thy words?  
Have I bewrayed thy Arcane secrecy?  
Have I dishonoured thy marriage bed  
With filthy crimes, or with lascivious lusts?  
Nay it is thou that hast dishonoured it,  
Thy filthy mind o'ercome with filthy lusts,  
yieldeth unto affections filthy darts.  
Unkind, thou wrong'st thy first and truest fear,  
Unkind, thou wrong'st thy best and dearest friend.  
Unkind, thou scorn'st all skilful Brutus' laws,  
Forgetting father, uncle, and thyself.  Estr. 
Believe me Locrine but the girl is wise,  
And well would seem to make a vestal Nun,  
How finely frames she her oration.  Thra. 
Locrine we came not here to fight with words  
Words that can never win the victory,  
But for you are so merry in your frumps,  
unsheath your swords, and try it out by force,  
That we may see who hath the better hand.  Loc. 
Thinkst thou to dare me bold Thrasimachus?  
Thinkst thou to fear me with thy taunting braves,  
Or do we seem too weak to cope with thee?  
Soon shall I show thee my fine cutting blade,  
And with my sword the messenger of death,  
Seal thee an acquittance for thy bold attempts. Exeunt.  Sound the alarm. Enter Locrine, Assaracus, and soldier at one door, Guendoline, Thrsimachus, at another, Locrine and his followers driven back. Then let Locrine & Estrild enter again in a maze. Loc. 
O fair Estrilda, we have lost the field,  
Thrasimachus hath won the victory,  
And we are left to be a laughing stock,  
Scoffed at by those that are our enemies,  
Ten thousand soldiers armed with sword & shield,  
Prevail against an hundredth thousand men,  
Thrasimachus incensed with fuming ire,  
Rageth amongst the faint heart soldiers  
Like to grim Mars, when covered with his targe  
He fought with Diomedes in the field,  
Close by the banks of silver Simois,  Sound the alarm. 
O lovely Estrild now the chase begins,  
ne'er shall we see the stately Troynovant  
Mounted on the coursers garnished all with pearls  
ne'er shall we view the fair Concordia,  
Unless as captives we be thither brought.  
Shall Locrine then be taken prisoner,  
By such a youngling as Thrasimachus?  
Shall Guendolina captivate my love?  
ne'er shall mine eyes behold that dismal hour,  
ne'er will I view that ruthful spectacle,  
For with my sword this sharp curtleaxe,  
I'll cut in sunder my accursed heart.  
But O you judges of the ninefold Styx,  
Which with incessant torments rack the ghosts  
Within the bottomless Abissus pits,  
You gods commanders of the heavenly spheres,  
Whose will and laws irrevocable stands,  
Forgive, forgive, this soul accursed sin,  
Forget O gods this foul condemned fault:  
And now my sword that in so many fights kiss his sword.  
Hast saved the life of Brutus and his son,  
End now his life that wisheth still for death,  
Work now his death that wisheth still for death,  
Work now his death that hateth still his life.  
Farewell fair Estrild, beauty's paragon,  
Framed in the front of forlorn miseries,  
ne'er shall mine eyes behold thy sunshine eyes,  
But when we meet in the Elysian fields,  
Thither I go before with hastened pace.  
Farewell vain world, and thy enticing snares.  
Forwell foul sin, and thy enticing pleasures.  
And welcome death the end of mortal smart,  
Welcome to Locrine's overburdened heart.  Thrust himself through with his sword. Estr. 
Break heart with sobs and grievous suspires,  
Stream forth you tears from forth my watery eyes,  
Help me to mourn for warlike Locrine's death,  
power down your tears you watery regions,  
For mighty Locrine is bereft of life.  
O fickle fortune, O unstable world,  
What else are all things that this globe contains,  
But a confused chaos of mishaps?  
Wherein as in a glass we plainly see,  
That all our life is but as a Tragedy.  
Since mighty kings are subject to mishap,  
I mighty kings are subject to mishap,  
Since martial Locrine is bereft of life,  
Shall Estrild live then after Locrine's death?  
Shall love of life bar her from Locrine's sword?  
O no, this sword that hath bereft his life,  
Shall now deprive me of my fleeting soul:  
Strengthen these hands O mighty jupiter,  
That I may end my woeful misery.  
Locrine I come, Locrine I follow thee.  Kill herself. Sound the alarm. Enter Sabren. Sab. 
What doleful sight, what ruthful spectacle  
Hath fortune offered to my hapless heart?  
My father slain with such a fatal sword,  
My mother murdered by a mortal wound?  
What Thracian dog, what barbarous Myrmidon,  
Would not relent at such a ruthful case?  
What fierce Achilles, what hard stony flint,  
Would not bemoan this mournful Tragedy?  
Locrine the map of magnanimity,  
Lies slaughtered in this foul accursed cave,  
Estrild the perfect pattern of renown,  
Nature's sole wonder, in whose bewteous breasts  
All heavenly grace and virtue was enshrined,  
Both massacred are dead within this cave,  
And with them dies fair Pallas and sweet love.  
Here lies a sword, and Sabren hath a heart,  
This blessed sword shall cut my cursed heart,  
And bring my soul unto my parents ghosts,  
That they that live and view our Tragedy,  
May mourn our case with mournful plaudities.  Let her offer to kill herself. 
Ay me, my virgin's hands are too too weak,  
To penetrate the bulwark of my breast,  
My fingers used to tune the amorous lute,  
Are not of force to hold this steely glaive,  
So I am liest to wail my parent's death,  
Not able for to work my proper death.  
Ah Locrine honoured for thy nobleness.  
Ah Estrild, famous for thy constancy.  
Il may they fare that wrought your mortal ends.  Enter Guendoline, Thrasimachus, Madan, and the soldiers. Guen. 
Search soldiers search, find Locrine and his love,  
Find the proud strumpet humber's concubine,  
That I may change those her so pleasing looks,  
To pale and ignominious aspect.  
Find me the issue of their cursed love,  
Find me young Sabren, Locrine's only joy,  
That I may glut my mind with lukewarm blood,  
Swiftly distilling from the Bastard's breast,  
My father's ghost still haunts me for revenge,  
Crying, revenge my overhastened death,  
My brother's exile, and mine own divorce,  
Banish remorse clean from my brazen heart,  
All mercy from mine adamantine breasts.  Thra. 
Nor doth thy husband lovely Guendoline,  
That wonted was to guide our stayless steps,  
Enjoy this light; see where he murdered lies:  
By luckless lot and froward frowning fate,  
And by him lies his lovely paramour  
Fair Estrild gored with a dismal sword,  
And as it seems, both murdered by themselves,  
Clasping each other in their feebled arms,  
With loving zeal, as if for company  
Their uncontented corpses were yet content  
To pass soul Styx in Charon's ferry-boat.  Guen. 
And hath proud Estrild then prevented me,  
Hath she escaped Guendoline's wrath,  
Violently by cutting off her life?  
Would God she had the monstrous hydra's lives,  
That every hour she might have died a death  
Worse than the swing of old Ixion's wheel,  
And every hour revive to die again,  
As Titius bound to houseless Caucason,  
Doth feed the substance of his own mishap,  
And every day for want of food doth die,  
And every night doth live again to die.  
But stay, methinks I hear some fainting voice,  
Mournfully weeping for their luckless death.  Sa. 
You mountain nymphs which in these deserts reign,  
Cease off your hasty chase of savage beasts,  
Prepare to see a heart oppressed with care,  
Address your ears to hear a mournful style,  
No human strength, no work can work my weal,  
Care in my heart so tyrant like doth deal.  
You dryads and lightfoot Satiri,  
You gracious Fairies which at evening tide,  
Your closets leave with heavenly beauty stored,  
And on your shoulders spread your golden locks,  
You savage bears in caves and darkened dens,  
Come wail with me, the martial Locrine's death.  
Come mourn with me, for beauteous estrild's death.  
Ah loving parents little do you know,  
what sorrow Sabren suffers for your thrall.  Guen. 
But may this be, and is it possible,  
Lives Sabren yet to expiate my wrath?  
Fortune I thank thee for this courtesy,  
And let me never see one prosperous hour,  
If Sabren die not a reproachful death.  Sab. 
Hard hearted death, that when the wretched call,  
Art furthest off, and seldom heerst at all.  
But in the midst of fortune's good success,  
Uncalled comes, and shears our life in twain:  
When will that hour, that blessed hour draw nigh,  
When poor distressed Sabren may be gone.  
Sweet Atropos cut off my fatal thread,  
What art thou death, shall not poor Sabren die?  Guendoline taking her by the chin shall say thus. Guen. 
Yes damsel yes, Sabren shall surely die,  
Though all the world should seek to save her life,  
And not a common death shall Sabren die,  
But after strange and grievous punishments  
Shortly inflicted upon thy Bastard's head,  
Thou shalt be cast into the cursed streams,  
And feed the fishes with thy tender flesh.  Sab. 
And thinkst thou then thou cruel homicide,  
That these thy deeds shall be unpunished?  
No traitor no, the gods will venge these wrongs,  
The fiends of hell will mark these injuries.  
Never shall these bloodsucking masty curs,  
Bring wretched Sabren to her latest home.  
For I myself inspire of thee and thine,  
Mean to abridge my former destinies,  
And that which Locrine's sword could not perform,  
This pleasant stream shall present bring to pass.  She drowneth herself. Guen. 
One mischief follows another's neck,  
Who would have thought so young a maid as she  
With such a courage would have sought her death.  
And for because this River was the place  
Where little Sabren resolutely died,  
Sabren for ever shall this same be called.  
And as for Locrine our deceased spouse,  
Because he was the son of mighty Brute.  
To whom we owe our country, lives and goods,  
He shall be buried in a stately tomb,  
Close by his aged father Brutus' bones,  
With such great pomp and great solemnity,  
As well beseems so brave a prince as he.  
Let Estrild lie without the shallow vauts,  
Without the honour due unto the dead,  
Because she was the author of this war.  
Retire brave followers unto Troynouant,  
Where we will celebrate these exequies  
And place young Locrine in his father's tomb.  Exeunt omnes. Ate. 
Lo here the end of lawless treachery,  
Of usurpation and ambitious pride,  
And they that for their private amours dare  
Turmoil our land, and see their broils abroach,  
Let them be warned by these premises,  
And as a woman was the only cause  
That civil discord was then stirred up,  
So let us pray for that renowned maid,  
That eight and thirty years the sceptre swayed,  
In quiet peace and sweet felicity,  
And every wight that seeks her grace's smart,  
would that this sword were pierced in his heart. Exit.   
FINIS.