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  • Title: The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)

  • Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Authors: Anonymous, William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Tragedy of Locrine (Third Folio, 1664)

    Scena Quarta.
    Enter Albanact, Debon. Thrasimachus,
    and the Lords.
    Alb. Brave Cavaliers, Princes of Albany,
    660Whose trenchant blades with our deceased sire,
    Passing the frontiers of brave Grecia,
    Were bathed in our enemies lukewarme bloud,
    Now is the time to manifest your wills,
    Your haughty minds and resolutions,
    665Now opportunity is offred
    To try your courage and your earnest zeal,
    Which you alwayes protest to Albanact,
    For at this time, yea at this present time,
    Stout fugitives come from the Scithians bounds
    670Have pestred every place with mutinies:
    But trust me, Lordings, I will never cease
    To persecute the rascal runnagates,
    Till all the rivers stained with their bloud,
    Shall fully shew their fatal overthrow.
    675Deb. So shall your Highnesse merit great renown,
    And imitate your aged father's steps.
    Alb. But tell me cousin, cam'st thou through the plains?
    And saw'st thou there the faint-heart fugitives
    Mustring their weather-beaten souldiers,
    680What order keep they in their marshalling?
    Thra. After we past the groves of Caledone,
    We did behold the stragling Scithians Camp,
    Repleat with men, stor'd with munition;
    There might we see the valiant minded Knights
    685Fetching carriers along the spacious plains,
    Humber and Hubba arm'd in azure blew,
    Mounted upon their coursers white as snow,
    Went to behold the pleasant flowring fields;
    Hector and Troilus, Priamus lovely sons,
    690Chasing the Grecians over Simoeis,
    Were not to be compared to these two Knights.
    Alba. Well hast thou painted out in eloquence
    The portraiture of Humber and his son;
    As fortunate as was Policrates,
    695Yet should they not escape our conquering swords,
    Or boast of ought but of our clemencie.
    Enter Strumbo and Trompart crying often;
    Wild fire and pitch, wild fire and pitch, &c.
    Thra. What sirs, what mean you by these clamors made,
    700Those outcries raised in our stately Court?
    Strum. Wild-fire and pitch, wild-fire and pitch.
    Thra. Villains I say, tell us the cause hereof?
    Strum. Wild-fire and pitch, wild-fire and pitch.
    Thra. Tell me you villains, why you make this noise,
    705Or with my Lance, I will prick your bowels out.
    Al. Where are your houses, where's your dwelling place?
    Strum. Place, Ha, ha, ha, laugh a month and a day
    at him; place! I cry God mercy, why doe you think that
    such poor honest men as we be, hold our habitacles in
    710Kings Palaces: Ha, ha, ha. But because you seem to be
    an abominable Chieftain, I will tell you your state.
    From the top to the toe,
    From the head to the shoe;
    From the beginning to the ending.
    715From the building to the burning
    This honest fellow and I had our mansion Cottage in
    the suburbs of this City, hard by the Temple of Mercury.
    And by the common Souldiers of the Shittens, the Scythi-
    ans what doe you call them? with all the suburbs were burnt
    720to the ground, and the ashes are left there for the Coun-
    trey Wives to wash bucks withall. And that which
    grieves me most, my loving Wife, O cruell strife; the
    wicked flames did roast.
    And therefore Captain Crust,
    725We will continually cry,
    Except you seek a remedy,
    Our Houses to reedifie,
    Which now are burnt to dust
    Both cry. Wild-fire and Pitch, Wild-fire and Pitch.
    730Alba. Well, we must remedy these outrages,
    And throw revenge upon their hatefull heads,
    And you good fellows for your houses burnt,
    We will remunerate your store of Gold,
    And build your houses by our Pallace gate.
    735Strumbo. Gate! O petty treason to my person, no
    where else but by your backside; Gate! oh how I am
    vexed in my Coller: Gate! I cry God mercy, do you
    hear, Master King? If you mean to gratifie such poor
    men as we be, you must build our houses by the Ta-
    Alba. It shall be done, sir.
    Strum. Near the Tavern, I, by Lady, sir, it was spo-
    ken like a good fellow. Do you hear, sir? when our house
    is builded, if you do chance to passe or re-passe that way,
    745we will bestow a quart of the best Wine upon you?
    Alb. It grieves me, Lordings, that my Subjects goods
    Should thus be spoyled by the Scythians,
    Who as you see with lightfoot forragers,
    Depopulate the places where they come,
    750But cursed Humber thou shalt rue the day
    That ere thou cam'st unto Cathnesia.