Bring her and Sabren straight unto the court;She shall be queen in Gwendoline's room.
Let others wail for Corineius' death;
I mean not so to macerate my mind For him that barred me from my heart's desire.
THRASIMACHUS.
Hath Locrine, then, forsook his Gwendoline?
Is Corineius' 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.
LOCRINE.
What! prat'st thou, peasant, to thy sovereign?
Or art thou strooken in some extasy?
Doest thou not tremble at our royal looks?
Dost thou not quake, when mighty Locrine frowns?
Thou beardless boy, wer't 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 Puriflegiton.
THRASIMACHUS.
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 venerian squire.
LOCRINE.
