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Author: Anonymous
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The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)


The Tragedy of Locrine.
93
Would God he had arriv'd upon the shore
Where Poliphemus and the Cyclops dwell,
1305Or where the bloody Anthropomphagie
With greedy jawes devoures the wandring wights,

Enter the Ghost of Albanact.

But why comes Albanact's bloody Ghost,
To bring a corsive to our miseries!
1310Is't not enough to suffer shamefull flight,
But we must be tormented now with Ghosts?
With apparitions fearfull to behold?
Ghost. Revenge, revenge for blood.
Hum. So nought will satisfie your wandring Ghost,
1315But dire revenge, nothing but Humber's fall,
Because he conquered you in Albany.
Now by my soule, Humber would be condemn'd
To Tantals hunger, or Ixions Wheele,
Or to the vulture of Promotheus,
1320Rather then that this murther were undone.
When as I I die I'le drag thy cursed Ghost
Through all the Rivers of foule Erebus,
Through burning sulphur of the Limbo-lake,
To allay the burning fury of that heat,
1325That rageth in mine everlasting soule.
Exeunt.

Alba. Ghost. Vindicta, vindicta.


Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.


Enter Atey as before. Then Omphale Daughter
1330to the King of Lydia, having a Club in her hand,
and a Lyous skin on her back, Hercules following
with a distaffe. Then let Omphale turn about, and
taking off her Pantofle, strike Hercules on the head,
then let them depart, Atey remaining, saying
;

1335
Quem non Argolici mandata severa Tyranni,
Non potuit Juno vincere, vicit amor.

Stout Hercules the mirrour of the world,
Son to Alcmena and great Jupiter,
After so many conquests won in field,
1340After so many Monsters quell'd by force,
Yielded his valiant heart to Omphale,
A fearfull woman void of manly strength,
She took the Club, and wore the Lyons skin.
He took the Wheele, and maidenly gan spin
1345So martiall Locrine cheer'd with victory,
Falleth in love with Humber's Concubine,
And so forgetteth peerlesse Guendoline.
His Unckle Corineius stormes at this,
And forceth Locrine for his grace to sue,
1350Loe here the summe, the processe doth ensue.


Exit.
Scena Secunda.

Enter Locrine, Camber, Corineius, Assarachus, Thra-
simachus, and the Souldiers
.

Loc. Thus from the fury of Bellona's broiles,
1355With sound of Drumme and Trumpets melody,
The Britain King returns triumphantly,
The Scythians slain with great occision,
Doe equallize the grasse in multitude,
And with their blood have stain'd the streaming brooks,
1360Offering their bodies and their dearest blood
As sacrifice to Albanactus Ghost,
Now cursed Humber hast thou paid thy due,
For thy deceits and crafty treacheries,
For all thy guiles, and damned stratagems,
1365With losse of life, and everduring shame.
Where are thy Horses trapt with burnisht gold,
Thy trampling Coursers rul'd with foaming bits?
Where are thy soldiers strong and numberlesse,?
Thy valiant Captains, and thy noble Peers?
1370Even as the Country Clownes with sharpest Scythes,
Doe mow the withered grasse from off the earth,
Or as the Ploughman with his piercing share
Renteth the bowels of the fertile fields,
And rippeth up the roots with Razors keen.
1375So Locrine with his mighty curtle-axe,
Hath cropped off the heads of all thy Hunnes,
So Locrine's Peers have daunted all thy Peeres,
And drove thine hoast unto confusion,
That thou maist suffer penance for thy fault,
1380And die for murdring valiant Albanact.
Cori. And thus, yea thus, shall all the rest be serv'd,
That seek to enter Albion 'gainst our wills.
If the brave Nation of the Troglodites,
If all the Cole-black Æthiopians,
1385If all the forces of the Amazons,
If all the hoasts of the Barbarian lands,
Should dare to enter this our little world,
Soon should they rue their overbold attempts,
That after us our progeny may say,
1390There lie the beasts that sought to usurp our Land.
Loc. I, they are beasts that seek to usurp our Land,
And like to bruitish beasts they shall be serv'd.
For mighty Jove, the supream King of heaven,
That guides the concourse of the Meteors,
1395And rules the motion of the azure skie,
Fights alwayes for the Britains safety.
But stay, me thinks I hear some shrieking noyse,
That draweth near to our pavillion.

Enter the Souldiers leading in Estrild.

1400Estrild. What Prince soe're adorn'd with golden
Doth sway the Regall Scepter in his hand:
And thinks no chance can ever throw him down,
Or that his state shall everlasting stand,
Let him behold poor Estrild in this plight,
1405The perfect platform of a troubled wight.
Once was I guarded with mavortiall bands,
Compact with Princes of the noble blood,
Now am I faln into my foemens hands,
G3[r]
And