For sure I hope before the golden sun Posteth his horses to fair Thetis' plains, To see the water 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 Albanact.]
GHOST.
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!
HUMBER.
Me thinks I see both armies in the field:
The broken lances climb the crystal skies;
Some headless lie, some breathless on the ground, And every place is strewed with carcasses.
Behold! the grass hath lost his pleasant green, The sweetest sight that ever might be see.
GHOST.
Aye, 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 inclose thy camp And yield sweet savours to thy damned corps, Shall ere the night be figured all with blood:
