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The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)

Author: Anonymous
Not Peer Reviewed
Scena Tertia.
1055
Enter Humber, Estrild, Hubba, Trussier, & the souldiers.
Hum. Thus are we come victorious Conquerors
Unto the flowing currents silver streams,
Which, in memorial of our victory,
Shall be agnominated by our name,
1060And talked of by our posterity:
For sure I hope before the golden Sun
Posteth his horses to fair Thetis plains,
To see the waters turned into bloud,
And change his blewish hue to ruefull red,
1065By reason of the fatal massacre,
Which shall be made upon the virent plains.
Enter the Ghost of Albanact.
See how the Traitor doth presage his harm,
See how he glories at his own decay,
1070See how he triumphs at his proper loss.
O fortune vild, unstable, fickle, frail!
Hum. Me thinks I see both armies in the field,
The broken lances climb the crystal skies,
Some headless lie, some breathless on the ground,
1075And every place is strew'd with carcasses,
Behold the grass hath lost his pleasant green,
The sweetest sight that ever might be seen.
Ghost. I, traiterous Humber, thou shalt find it so,
Yea to thy cost thou shalt the same behold,
1080With anguish, sorrow, and with sad laments;
The grassie plains, that now do please thine eyes,
Shall e're the night be coloured all with bloud;
The shadie groves that now inclose thy camp,
And yield sweet savour to thy damned corps,
1085Shall ere the night be figured all with bloud;
The profound stream that passeth by thy tents,
And with his moisture serveth all thy camp,
Shall ere the night converted be to bloud,
Yea with the bloud of those thy stragling boyes:
1090For now revenge shall ease my lingring grief,
And now revenge shall glut my longing soul.
Hub. Let come what will, I mean to bear it out,
And either live with glorious victorie,
Or die with fame renown'd for chivalrie:
1095He is not worthy of the honey-comb,
That shuns the hives because the bees have stings;
That likes me best that is not got with ease,
Which thousand dangers do accompany;
For nothing can dismay our Regal mind;
1100Which aims at nothing but a golden Crown,
The only upshot of mine enterprises.
Were they inchanted in grim Pluto's Court,
And kept for treasure 'mongst his hellish crew,
I would either quell the triple Cerberus
1105And all the armie of his hatefull hags,
Or roll the stone with wretched Sysiphus.
Hum. Right martial be thy thoughts, my noble son,
And all thy words savour of Chivalrie,
But, warlike Segar, what strange accidents
1110Makes you to leave the warding of the Camp?
Segar. To armes, my Lord, to honourable armes;
Take helm and targe in hand, the Britains come
With greater multitude then erst the Greeks
Brought to the ports of Phrygian Tenedos.
1115Hum. But what saith Segar to these accidents?
What counsel gives he in extremities?
Seg. Why this, my Lord, experience teacheth us,
That Resolution is a sole help at need.
And this, my Lord, our honour teacheth us,
1120That we be bold in every enterprise;
Then since there is no way but fight or die,
Be resolute, my Lord, for victory.
Hum. And resolute, Segar, I mean to be,
Perhaps some blisfull star will favour us,
1125And comfort bring to our perplexed state:
Come let us in and fortifie our camp,
So to withstand their strong invasion.
Exeunt.