[Enter the ghost of Corineius, with thunder and lightening.]
CORINEIUS' 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 lightfoot 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 thundreth forth revenge; The stony rocks cry out on sharp revenge; The thorny bush pronounceth dire revenge.
[Sound the alarm.]
Now, Corineius, 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, Assarachus, Sabren and their soldiers at one door: Thrasimachus, Gwendoline, Madan and their followers at an other.]
LOCRINE. What, is the tiger started from his cave? Is Gwendoline 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.
GWENDOLINE. Aye, 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 Ibeen 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 minds, o'ercome with filthy lusts, Yieldeth unto affections filthy darts. Unkind, thou wrongst thy first and truest feer; Unkind, thou wrongst thy best and dearest friend; Unkind, thou scornst all skilfull Brutus' laws, Forgetting father, uncle, and thy self.
ESTRILD. Believe me, Locrine, but the girl is wise, And well would seem to make a vestal Nun. How finely frames she her oration!
THRASIMACHUS. 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.
LOCRINE. 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 shew thee my fine cutting blade, And with my sword, the messenger of death, Seal thee an acquitance for thy bold attempts.
[Exeunt.]
[Sound the alarm. Enter Locrine, Assarachus, and a soldier at one door; Gwendoline, Thrasimachus, at an other; Locrine and his followers driven back. Then let Locrine & Estrild enter again in a maze.]
LOCRINE. O fair Estrild, we have lost the field; Thrasimachus hath won the victory, And we are left to be a laughing stock, Scoft at by those that are our enemies. Ten thousand soldiers, armed with sword & shield, prevail against an hundreth thousand men; Thrasimachus, incensed with fuming ire, Rageth amongst the faintheart 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 Troynouant, Mounted on the coursers garnished all with pearls; Nor 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 Gwendoline captivate my love? Ne'er shall mine eyes behold thatdismal 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 foul 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 inticing snares! Farewell, foul sin, and thy inticing pleasures! And welcome, death, the end of mortal smart, Welcome to Locrine's overburthened heart!
[Thrust himself through with his sword.]
