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The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)

Author: Anonymous
Not Peer Reviewed
The Tragedy of Locrine.
99
Forgetting father, uncle, and thy self.
Estr. Believe me Locrine, but the girle is wise,
And well would seem to make a vestal Nun,
How finely frames she her oration.
2010Thra. 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 trie it out by force,
That we may see who hath the better hand.
2015Locr. Think'st thou to dare me, bold Thrasimacus?
Think'st 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,
2020Seal thee an acquittance for thy bold attempts.
Exeunt.

Sound the alarum. Enter Locrine, Assaracus, and a
souldier at one door, Guendoline, Thrasimacus,
at an other, Locrine and his follow-
ers driven back
.
2025Then let Locrine and Estrild enter again in a maze.
Locr. O fair Estrilda, 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,
2030Ten thousand souldiers arm'd with sword and shield,
Prevail against an hundred thousand men,
Thrasimachus incest with fuming ire,
Rageth among'{s
t} the faint-heart souldiers
Like to grim Mars, when covered with his targe
2035He fought with Diomedes in the field,
Close by the banks of silver Simois,
Sound the alarum.
O lovely Estrild now the chase begins,
Ne're shall we see the stately Troynovant
Mounted with coursers garnisht all with pearles
2040Ne're shall we view the fair Concordia,
Unlesse as captives we be thither brought.
Shall Locrine then be taken prisoner,
By such a youngling as Thrasimachus?
Shall Guendoline captivate my love?
2045Ne're shall mine eyes behold that dismal hour,
Ne're will I view that ruthfull spectacle,
For with my sword, this sharp curtle axe,
I'le cut in sunder my accursed heart.
But O you judges of the ninefold Stix,
2050Which with incessant torments rack the ghosts
Within the bottomlesse Abyssus pits,
You gods, commanders of the heavenly spheers,
Whose will and laws irrevocable stands,
Forgive, forgive, this foul accursed sin,
2055Forget O gods, this foul condemned fault:
And now my sword that in so many fights
kiss his sword.
Hast sav'd 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,
2060Work now his death that hateth still his life.
Farewell fair Estrild, beauties paragon,
Fram'd in the front of forlorn miseries,
Ne're shall mine eyes behold thy sun-shine eyes,
But when we meet in the Elysian fields,
2065Thither 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 over-burthened heart.
2070
Thrusts himself through with his sword.
Estr. Break heart with sobs and grievous suspirs,
Stream forth you tears from forth my watry eyes,
Help me to mourn for warlike Locrine's death,
Pour down your tears you watry regions,
2075For 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 glasse we plainly see,
2080That all our life is but a Tragedie.
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?
2085 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 wofull miserie,
2090Locrine I come, Locrine I follow thee.
Kills her self.
Sound the alarme. Enter Sabren.
Sab. What dolefull sight, what ruthfull spectacle
Hath fortune offred to my haplesse heart?
My father slain with such a fatal sword,
2095My mother murthred by a mortal wound?
What Thracian dog, what barbarous Mirmidon,
Would not relent at such a ruthfull case?
What fierce Achilles, what hard stony flint,
Would not bemone this mournfull Tragedie?
2100Locrine, the map of magnanimitie,
Lies slaughtered in his foul accursed cave,
Estrild, the perfect pattern of renown,
Natures sole wonder, in whose beauteous brests,
All heavenly grace and vertue was inshrind,
2105Both 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,
2110That they that live and view our Tragedy,
May mourn our case with mournfull plaudities.
Let her offer to kill her self.
Ay me, my virgins hands are too too weak,
To penetrate the bullwarke of my brest,
2115My fingers us'd to tune the amorous Lute,
Are not of force to hold this steely glain,
So I am left to waile my parents death,
Not able for to work my proper death.
Ah Locrine, honour'd for thy noblenesse.
2120Ah Estrild, famous for thy constancie.
Ill may they fare that wrought your mortal ends.

Enter Guendoline, Thrasimachus, Madan,
and the Souldiers
.
Guen. Search souldiers search, find Locrine & his Love,
2125Find 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,
2130That I may glut my mind with lukewarme bloud,
Swiftly distilling from the bastards brest,
My fathers ghost still hants me for revenge,
Crying, revenge my over-hastened death,
My brother's exile, and mine own divorce,
2135Banish remorse clean from my brazen heart,
[G5r]
Al